Page 2 of Resisting the Wicked Orc (Silvermist Mates #4)

CHAPTER TWO

ZRAL

I didn’t think anyone said ‘no’ to me anymore.

Not since Miranda turned Osen’s world on its head, and Carissa helped Torain with his ambitions. Not since Hannah domesticated that prick Galan. Competition for a casual bit of fun had been nonexistent since they’d mated, and I’d been more than happy to reap the rewards.

The red-skinned beauty glared up at me, amber eyes blazing with fury. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone looked at me with such raw irritation.

It was almost refreshing, and definitely interesting.

“Are you stalking me now?” she demanded in a whispered hiss.

Her tail lashed against my leg. Up close, I could see the fine barbs along its length, the way it moved with her emotions. Black horns emerged from her temples, curling upward against sleek dark hair. She was all lean muscle and dangerous curves, and the scent of cinnamon and smoke clung to her skin, stronger now with her anger.

“Me?” I kept my voice low. “I’m not the one following strangers in the dead of night.”

Which was rich coming from me, considering I’d followed her here after spotting her skulking through the empty market. I’d been on my way to meet a date at One Hop Stop when I realized I’d left my favorite carving knife at the booth. Should’ve been a simple errand. Get in, grab the knife, get out.

Then I’d seen her—the spitfire from Vintage Baby—creeping after her boss like a shadow.

“Let go of me.” Her eyes narrowed. “And mind your own business.”

I released her wrist but didn’t step back. We were wedged between stacked market crates and the back of a wooden stall. If I moved, she’d bolt, and that muscle by the shed would spot her in seconds.

“When I see someone acting suspiciously in my territory, it becomes my business.” I kept my voice low, though part of me wanted to throw her over my shoulder and get her far away from whatever dangerous game she was playing.

“I’m not ‘acting suspiciously.’“ She lifted her chin. “I’m investigating.”

“Investigating what?”

“None of your concern.” She pressed against my chest, trying to slip past. “I have this under control.”

I caught her hip, keeping her in place. I could feel the heat radiating from her skin—warmer than any human’s, almost feverish. Her pulse fluttered visibly at the base of her throat, and I found myself staring at that spot, wondering if it would taste as spicy as she smelled.

“Really, Red?” I traced my thumb along the curve of her hip. “Is that why your heart’s racing?”

“That’s called anger.” The lie dripped from her tongue as sweet as honey.

A sound from around the corner made us both freeze. Lydia’s voice carried through the darkness, dripping with false warmth. “Francis. What a pleasure. I’m sure you’ll find the craftsmanship worth slinking out of your little cave.”

I shifted enough to peer over the crates. Instead of the burly guard I’d spotted earlier, a tall, thin man stood with Lydia.

I scanned the shadows, searching for movement. Nothing. The guard had vanished like smoke, and that set every instinct screaming. No professional would abandon his post without reason. But when the muscle disappeared, things tended to turn ugly fast.

“I trust you brought what we discussed,” the man answered, each word measured and precise.

“Of course.” Lydia’s jewelry clinked softly as she adjusted the package under her arm. “Though I must say, your initial offer was… disappointing.”

“The market determines value.”

“The market knows nothing of items like these.”

Paper rustled as Lydia and Francis huddled over something small that glinted with a reddish light. I couldn’t make out the item, but whatever Lydia held made the air feel heavy and charged, like the moment before lightning struck.

Rava’s reaction was instant—a sharp intake of breath and a jerk forward. I pressed her back against the wall, one hand splayed across her stomach. The contact sent a jolt of heat through my palm.

“Are you here to steal from her?” I demanded. New girl in town, following her boss through the night… The job could be legitimate employment, or cover for an ulterior motive.

“You don’t understand.” Frustration edged her words. “They have something that belongs to me.”

I arched a brow. “So call the cops.”

“The police?” She let out a bitter snort. “You think a bunch of humans are capable of dealing with ifrit concerns?”

“Unless your kind has some hidden talent for glamor, the only concerning ifrit I see is you.” I leaned closer, inhaling that intoxicating scent of cinnamon and smoke. “Best start explaining.”

“I don’t have to tell you shit. Back. Off.” Her fingers curled into fists at her sides.

There were plenty of mercenary groups who specialized in supernatural justice, and plenty others who thought it best to police their own. But skulking around didn’t have a whiff of official channels to it, which meant she didn’t trust them or whatever she was after wasn’t exactly legal.

“Threatening me now?” I grinned down at her. The fire in those amber eyes sent a thrill through my blood. “Not very smart when you’re caught red-handed.”

“I’m not caught anything.” Her tail whipped against my thigh. “And you’re interfering with something you don’t understand.”

“Then enlighten me.” I kept my grip firm on her hip. “What’s so special about whatever trinket they’re trading?”

“You stubborn, arrogant—” Her voice dropped to a growl, and the temperature spiked between us. “You wouldn’t leave me alone at the booth. You won’t leave me alone now. Why won’t you take the hint and?—”

Orange flames erupted from her clenched hands, catching the edge of a discarded cardboard box. The fire spread quickly, consuming the dry material.

“Shit!” I released her hip and stomped on the flames. The cardboard crackled under my boots.

“Fuck.” Rava’s eyes went wide. She shook her hands like she was trying to extinguish invisible flames.

“Who’s there?” Lydia’s voice cut through the darkness.

I heard rustling and footsteps. When I glanced back, Francis and his package had vanished. Lydia stood alone, peering into the shadows.

“Nice work.” I ground the words between my teeth, stamping out the last ember. “Real subtle.”

But Rava didn’t answer. When I turned, her expression had shifted. Those amber eyes studied me with predatory calculation, and her lips curved into a wicked smile that sent heat straight to my dick.

Her tail brushed my thigh in a deliberate caress. “Be a doll and run fast.”

Before I could process her words, crimson smoke exploded between us. The scent of brimstone filled my lungs. I stumbled back, blinking through the haze.

She was gone.

And I stood exposed, smoke curling around my feet and footsteps thundering toward me.

“Fucking hell,” I muttered, bolting in the opposite direction.

Heavy footsteps followed. I cut through an alley, vaulting over a stack of produce crates. The muscle was good—professional training in his movements. But I knew these grounds. Every weekend hauling carving supplies had taught me the layout.

I should be furious. I was furious. What kind of person disappears and leaves someone else to take the fall?

But beneath the anger churned something else. Grudging respect for her audacity. Burning curiosity about what made that gem worth such risk. And underneath it all, an insistent need to know more about the woman who’d turned my night upside down.

I peered around the edge of the stall. A flash of red disappeared through the flaps of Poppy’s bakery stall. Rava. The muscle was working his way systematically down the row, and though she’d wedged herself into a decent hiding spot, he’d find her soon enough.

Served her right. Let her deal with her own mess.

Then I spotted the knife in the man’s hand. The blade caught moonlight as he moved, and something twisted in my gut.

The muscle was three stalls away. Two. He’d round that corner in seconds, and that knife wasn’t for show.

“Dammit.” I slipped through the shadows, circling wide to approach from the opposite direction.

I reached her just as footsteps approached. Without thinking, I pulled her against me and crushed my mouth to hers.

Lightning struck my bloodstream.

Heat seared through me, a wildfire racing from my lips to every extremity. Her lips parted in surprise, and that spicy-sweet taste exploded across my tongue. I landed my hands on her waist, fingers digging into the soft curve of her hips.

Mate. The word thundered through my blood. My fated mate.

I’d watched it happen to my friends. The instant recognition. The undying certainty. But I’d never believed it would happen to me. Never wanted it to. I’d been content with my carving, my clan standing, my string of willing females who found my tusks and tattoos appealing. Until now, when everything in me recognized her as mine, as if every woman before had been practice for this moment.

She felt it too. I knew she did. Her body went rigid, then melted against mine, her hands fisting in my shirt. I braced myself on the counter, lost in her taste. Her heat burned through our clothes, making me ache to strip away layers between us.

For one perfect moment, everything else disappeared—the danger, the market, the world.

We broke apart as if burned. Her eyes were wide, pupils blown. I felt her pulse racing where my fingers pressed against her throat.

The guard whipped open the canvas flaps. I kept Rava anchored against me, trying to look like nothing more than a couple stealing a private moment. Her tail wrapped around my calf, whether from instinct or for show, I couldn’t tell.

I pulled back enough to glare over my shoulder. “Hey, man. Give us some privacy, will you?”

His eyes narrowed, taking in our flushed faces and tangled limbs. Suspicion flickered across his features, then dissolved into disgust.

“Get a room,” he grunted and continued past, knife disappearing into his jacket.

We stood frozen until his footsteps faded. Rava shoved away from me, her eyes wild, her breathing ragged.

“What the hell was that?” she demanded, voice unsteady.

“Saving your ass.” The words came out rougher than intended. My skin buzzed where she’d touched me, demanding more contact.

“This isn’t happening. This cannot be happening.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Do you have any idea what you just cost me?”

Watching her try to erase my taste from her lips felt like sandpaper against raw skin. I’d kissed plenty of women who didn’t want forever. But this was different. She was different. The mate bond blazed beneath my skin, loud and clear and hungry for more. While she stood there, scrubbing away everything I felt burning between us.

It fucking hurt.

“Right.” I stepped back, jaw tight. “Next time I’ll let the guy with the knife find you.”

“There won’t be a next time.” Her tail lashed violently. “Stay away from me.”

Crimson smoke swirled around her body. I reached for her, but my fingers passed through empty air as she vanished.

“Fuck.” I scrubbed a hand over my face, lips still burning, mind still reeling.

I should head home. Take the long walk back to Grimstone, let the mountain air clear my head. But the thought of spending the night alone with only my thoughts for company... with the mate bond still humming under my skin...

No. Not happening. Not when every instinct screamed to track her down, to figure out what kind of trouble she was really in. Because no one skulked around in shadows and risked discovery unless they were desperate.

And desperate people made stupid choices.

Instead, I headed toward One Hop Stop. With any luck, Torain would still be there. I needed a drink. Several drinks. And someone to talk me out of hunting down a woman who clearly wanted nothing to do with me.

Because this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

My mate was a thief. Or a spy. Or something else entirely.

And I had a feeling she’d make me work for every answer to every question.