Page 8 of My Orc Contract Husband (Eastshore Isle #9)

But my attempts at distraction hadn’t worked. Tarkhan was still watching me, too intently, in the dim light. “I’m sorry, Sami. I shouldn’t have touched you without asking.”

Sweet, empathetic, and he understood consent? I was crushing hard.

But I shook my head dismissively. “Oh, it’s okay, you saved us both. I’m just not used to being picked up.” In my effort to distract myself, I continued to blather on with a laugh. “I guess I haven’t been picked up since I was a little girl. My father?— ”

My father used to throw me over his shoulder when my mother said it was time for bed. This was before he made enough money to hire a nanny. Before he shipped me off to boarding school. Before he lost his smile.

“Sami?”

The murmur came from beside me, and it wasn’t until I glanced wide-eyed at him that I realized I’d sunk into some sort of fog of memory, and Tarkhan had moved up beside me.

“Sami!” He sounded worried. “Breathe, honey.”

I wasn’t breathing? Shaking my head, I tried to suck in a breath, but only managed a little gasp.

“Okay, okay.” His arms were around me once more, and he swept me toward the bench. “It’s okay, Sami, I’m here.” He settled down, pulling me down with him, his arms around me.

Warm.

Safe.

I was sitting on Tarkhan’s lap, with the sound of the rain all around us. Safe .

My breathing slowly returned to normal.

“That’s it,” he murmured, one large hand on my back, tucking my head beneath his chin. “Just breathe, Sami.”

“I’m sorry,” I sobbed, and yes, it was a sob. When had I started crying?

More of the same tears from yesterday and the day before—fear, not sorrow. But now? Right now, I felt safe and protected, not afraid. What was happening to me ?

“It’s okay, honey. Just let it out. You don’t have to be strong anymore.”

Oh God, how did he know all the right things to say? The tears came harder, and I burrowed my face against his chest and focused on inhaling. Inhaling Tarkhan . Wood shavings and his detergent and a deodorant that smelled like sandalwood.

It was his hand on my back, his warmth, and his scent which eventually helped calm my panic and even out my breathing. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled against his chest.

“It really is okay, Sami. You don’t have to explain anything.”

Except I wanted to. I pulled back just enough to speak, but not enough that he’d think I wanted to be released. “My father died. That’s what was in that black leather folio the courier gave me on Monday.”

He’d frozen, and now his breath released on a long, controlled exhale. “I’m sorry, honey. It must have been devastating to lose someone unexpectedly.”

Honey . That’s what he’d called me before, and I admit I liked it. But I had to remember that everything I’d seen and heard about Tarkhan was that he’d had a lot of “honeys” over the last decade. He likely called anyone with two X chromosomes “honey,” right?

So I took a deep breath and forced myself a little more upright. “We were estranged,” I admitted, staring at his shoulder. “It’s been six years since I spoke to him, and it was my choice.”

“Oh.” His hand began to move again, a slow, comforting stroke up and down my back. “Then I’m still sorry. I know what it’s like to lose family, even if they’re still alive.”

He’d left his entire family behind when he’d come to our world, but it wasn’t the same. I twisted to look up at him, trying to make him understand. “He was a horrible father, and a bad man. He only wanted to use me to get more for himself. I don’t regret cutting myself out of his life.”

Tarkhan studied me as he continued to rub my back gently.

His dark eyes flickered across my face, lingering on my lips, then my right temple.

Finally, he nodded. “I can see why that courier said he’d been looking for you for a while.

And I can imagine his death would’ve been an even bigger shock if you were estranged.

What are you feeling right now? Regret or guilt? ”

I blinked, surprised at the question.

Regret or guilt ?

What made him guess those two responses? I shook my head and blurted the first thing on my mind. “Fear, mostly.”

He reared back, lips curling from his tusks as he repeated, “ Fear , Sami?”

And I hurried to explain. “That folio made me his heir. I don’t want to be his heir. I don’t want to have to go back to his world and be in charge of his empire.”

“Ah,” he murmured, his shoulders relaxing once more. “So these tears aren’t necessarily for your father.”

I winced and ducked my head again, not bearing to meet his eyes. “Does that make me horrible?” I whispered .

In the time it took him to respond, I shrank in on myself. He thought I was terrible—not just a terrible daughter, but a bad person too. He’d left his family behind, and here I was, not even mourning for my father, but for myself . He thought I was selfish.

“Any male who would force you to do something you don’t want to do in order to further his own goals is probably not worth mourning,” he finally said, and I felt a tiny spark of hope that he could see things my way.

Risking a peek at him, I admitted, “He wanted me to marry his business partner when I turned twenty-three. It was supposed to solidify their partnership and make their empire stronger.”

A muscle worked in Tarkhan’s jaw as he stared at my hairline. Why wasn’t he meeting my eyes?

“You didn’t marry him?” he finally ground out.

I hurried to assure him. “It was one of the reasons I left. Why I’ve been hiding all these years.”

The noise he made might have been of understanding, and I watched him visibly shake himself, then offer me a tight grin. “Then I’m glad. I’m glad you left, and you found your way here to Eastshore. To m?—”

He bit down on whatever he’d been about to say.

To my island.

To mollusks?

To…me?

When I inhaled, I smelled him, and swayed toward him. Was it my imagination, or did he pull me closer, leaning down…? I swallowed, my gaze focused on his lips.

“I must sound…” My tongue darted over my lips, and I realized I was burbling. “I must sound spoiled and foolish to you, who left your own world for far braver and nobler reasons.”

Something shuttered in his gaze, and he abruptly pulled back and glanced over my head. “My reasons weren’t brave or noble. I was running away, the same as you.”

He was?

My hand was resting on his chest. When had it landed there? Now that I was aware of it, I struggled to figure out what to do with it. Should I move it? Close my fingers around his shirt? Pat him?

“What were you running away from, Tarkhan?”

His gaze dropped to mine again and his lips curled—not kindly, but wryly, as if he were laughing at himself.

“My own shame. I was running from my shame, Sami, and if somehow I got word now that my mother was dead, I would mourn her as deeply as I would have back then.” His voice dropped to a whisper as he turned his head away.

“As deeply as I mourned her when I crossed through the veil to your world.”

Oh .

In that moment, I’d forgotten all about my father or his legacy. All I saw was Tarkhan’s pain at these memories. I didn’t have to think about what to do with my hand; the fingers curled around his shirt of their own volition, and my other hand rose to his shoulder, pulling him closer .

“I’m so sorry, Tarkhan. Here I am, blathering on about my complicated feelings, and you’re obviously still in pain for your own losses.”

His lips twisted again, in a rueful smile that looked all wrong on him, and he still didn’t meet my eyes. “I didn’t tell you that to pity me, honey.”

“I don’t pity you, well, okay, I think it’s heartbreaking you had to make that decision.”

“It wasn’t my decision.” This time, when his gaze swung back to mine, I saw anger flash in his eyes before it was chased away by an unnatural blankness.

“Despite everything, I would have stayed and faced my shame, if I’d been allowed to.

But the elders told me I’d be among the group crossing through the veil, and I knew I’d never see my mother again. ”

Oh my God .

My hold on him tightened, and my throat was thick when I whispered, “I’m sorry. That’s horrible. I can see how you must think even worse of me, who chose to leave her family…”

“My family cut me off because of my shame, Sami.” Tarkhan blew out a breath, and his hand, which had been holding the outside of my thigh, rose to brush a piece of hair from my forehead. “Your father’s shameful actions were the reasons you left, and I’m glad for it.”

Unable to help myself, I pressed my shoulder against his, trying to snuggle closer. “My pain seems insignificant compared to yours.”

“Don’t ever say that,” he ordered, his big hand cupping my cheek and the back of my neck in one hold. “You are strong and brave and capable, and you did what was necessary to protect yourself. It’s not a contest, honey, and I’m damned proud of you for what you did.”

His words made me smile. How could I not? My cheek pressed against his palm, but he didn’t move his hand, and I liked that. I liked that he was so unflappable and strong.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“Now…” He took a deep breath, then cocked his head to listen to the sound of the rain on the roof.

“I was going to give you this later when we were done, just because it’s not my business, and I didn’t want to distract you.

But since we’re having this conversation, and since we’re stuck here for a bit… ”

He shifted, his hand dropping from my cheek to reach for his ass.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, my breath suddenly catching in anticipation.

His hand emerged, a small black envelope caught between two fingers. My heart began to pound.

“I found this in the car this morning, passenger’s seat. Remember when you fumbled that folder, trying to climb out of my truck? I think this fell out then. Probably goes with whatever was in there.”

My gaze was glued to that unadorned black envelope.

I’d seen it—or ones like it—many times over the years. I just never expected to see one again.

When Tarkhan held it out to me, I couldn’t help the way I shrank away from it. But his hand was against my back, and as soon as I registered that pressure, I forced my spine upright. He’d called me brave.

I could do this.

With shaking hands, I reached for that envelope, wishing I could keep my hold on Tarkhan instead.

Taking a deep breath, I pulled out the white cardstock inside…saw the elegant script…and stopped breathing.