Page 3 of Resisting the Wicked Orc (Silvermist Mates #4)

CHAPTER THREE

RAVA

T he fifth text in as many minutes vibrated against my hip like an angry hornet. I pulled my phone out just enough to see the preview.

Where the hell are you? Answer your damn phone.

Right on cue, my phone lit up with Kaz’s call. I silenced it and stuffed it back in my pocket. My brother could wait. Three weeks of playing the wide-eyed assistant to the fake-smiling human wouldn’t be wasted just to crawl back home empty-handed.

Not when freedom was so close I could taste it.

Thank the fires below for Malak and his years of hacking government databases. I’d called my brother’s tech specialist after my spectacular failure at the market, swallowing my pride to ask for help. He hadn’t questioned why I’d disappeared or who I attempted to trace. That was Malak’s gift—he understood secrets had their place.

“Only one Francis checked into Silvermist accommodations this week,” Malak had said, sounding amused. “Room 212 at the Silver River Inn. Registered as Francis Abbott.”

“You swear you won’t tell Kaz?”

“If you swear not to do anything stupid,” he’d answered. “Kaz is on the warpath.”

Too late for that particular advice.

I flexed my fingers, feeling the heat spark between them. The night’s earlier escapades still bothered me. My control never slipped. But twice in one day, my fire had ignited without permission. Twice around that damned orc.

That kiss…

I shoved the memory away. Fuck. I couldn’t— wouldn’t —go down that road. He wasn’t my anything. Not friend, not acquaintance. Just a cocky asshole I’d had the bad luck of encountering at an inconvenient moment.

The Silver River Inn stood at the edge of downtown, a Victorian building with fresh white paint and blue trim. Quaint. Respectable. The kind of place a man trafficking in stolen relics might stay to blend in with the tourist crowd.

The relic was close. I could feel it like an itch under my skin. Not the familiar sensation of being watched, though I wouldn’t put it past Kaz to have eyes in Silvermist Falls already. No, this was different. A phantom tickle, a magnetic pull toward—and drive to avoid—something that belonged to my kind.

I leaned against a lamppost across the street, pretending to check my phone while watching the entrance. This was why the clan always worked in groups. In a proper operation, I’d have access to detailed floor plans and camera blind spots to jump to my destination. Going blind risked materializing inside the surroundings.

Merger deaths, we called them. Kaz made sure the gruesome archive photos featured prominently in my training.

Malak would have stationed himself as surveillance and backup. Zane would create a diversion, clearing Kaz’s path to the target. My brother would slip in, grab the relic, and smoke out to safety.

Instead, I stood alone in the dark, with nothing but instinct and desperation.

Twenty minutes passed before the door swung open and Francis emerged. He adjusted his jacket, checking his watch with an impatient flick of his wrist. The itch at the base of my neck intensified.

Shit. He had the relic on him.

Francis turned at the corner, heading toward the livelier end of town. I kept my distance, weaving between late-night tourists and locals heading home from dinner. My tail stayed tucked tight, my horns concealed beneath my hood. Just another human enjoying the damp night.

He paused outside One Hop Stop, checking his watch again before pushing through the door. I cursed under my breath. Public places meant witnesses. Witnesses meant complications.

I hung back, peering through the large front windows. The place was packed with Saturday night crowds, laughter spilling out each time the heavy oak door opened. I scanned the tables, searching for Francis’s thin frame.

My breath caught as I spotted a familiar broad-shouldered figure at the bar. Zral threw his head back, laughing with a petite blonde woman. Her bob cut swung as she gestured animatedly, and Zral leaned in, all easy charm and attentive interest.

I shouldn’t care. I didn’t care. The way his lips twitched as he settled back to calm, the way his large hand dwarfed his beer glass… It didn’t matter. The heat spreading through my chest was purely biological. A reaction to a bond I’d never asked for and refused to accept.

I’d spent my whole life fighting one cage. I wouldn’t willingly walk into another.

If anything, this just confirmed what I suspected. He was exactly the type to chase any woman who crossed his path. All the more reason to avoid him. Javed would eat him alive.

I shifted position, trying to spot Francis without being seen. He’d taken a seat at a corner table, his back to the wall. Smart. Paranoid. Exactly what I’d expect from someone dealing in black market relics.

My phone buzzed again. Another text from Kaz.

I swear to all the fires, I’ll gut Malak if you don’t buy a ticket home on the next available flight.

I rolled my eyes. Empty threats. Kaz needed Malak’s skills too much to?—

The next message made my blood run cold.

Only it’ll be a piss-poor botch job because Prince Javed threatened to do me the same if I don’t drag your ass home. NOW.

My fingers tightened around the phone. Javed was there? At our compound?

I slipped the phone back into my pocket, a new urgency thrumming through my veins. If Javed was threatening my clan, I had even less time than I’d thought. The Prince’s temper was legendary, and his cruelty even more so. The stories his previous companions whispered when they thought no one was listening...

I shook my head. All the more reason to get that relic. With it, I could negotiate better terms. Maybe even buy my freedom entirely.

I circled the block, finding a vantage point where I could watch the brewery’s entrance without being obvious. My phone buzzed again. I ignored it.

An hour crawled by. I paced up and down the street, doubling back each time to check if Francis had left. On my third pass, I glanced inside again. Zral still sat at the bar, but the blonde now leaned against a larger orc, her hand on his chest as she laughed up at him. Her partner, clearly.

I refused to acknowledge the flash of satisfaction that warmed my blood. Irrelevant. Completely irrelevant to my mission.

Even if his lips had tasted like blackberries and whiskey.

Even if his touch had stirred the fire in my veins.

I forced my attention back to Francis. He checked his watch again, downed the last of his drink, and stood. Perfect. I slipped back into the flow of pedestrians, keeping him in sight as he exited the brewery.

I followed him back to the Silver River Inn, keeping to the shadows. He entered through the main doors, nodding to the concierge as he passed. I hesitated outside, weighing my options. The lobby was too exposed for a direct confrontation, and I couldn’t exactly knock on his door without raising suspicions.

I slipped around to the side of the building and scanned the windows. Most were dark or covered with heavy curtains, but light spilled from one on the ground floor. I edged closer, peering through a gap in the drapes.

Through the glass, I could make out Francis taking a seat at the hotel bar. Even from here, I could feel the relic pulsing at my center, calling to the fire in my blood.

My fingers tingled with heat. One quick teleport inside, grab the relic, and disappear before they could react. Risky, but possible. I’d need a distraction first, something to draw attention away from?—

A large hand clamped over my mouth as an arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me back against a solid chest. I reacted instantly, fire flaring in my palms as I prepared to burn whoever dared?—

“We have to stop meeting like this,” a deep voice purred in my ear.

Blackberries and woodsmoke filled my senses. My fire sputtered out as recognition washed through me.

Zral.

The heat of him pressed against my back sent a shock wave through my system. The mate bond surged between us, demanding acknowledgment. My body responded like a fucking traitor, melting against him even as my mind screamed in protest.

I bit his palm.

He hissed but didn’t let go. His breath tickled my ear as he whispered, “If you wanted to taste me again, Red, you just had to ask.”

ZRAL

Her teeth broke contact with my palm, but the sting lingered. Not unpleasant—more like the first bite of strong whiskey. I kept my hand over her mouth, feeling her rapid breath against my skin.

“We also need to have a conversation about your disappearing act,” I murmured against her ear. “Leaving me holding the bag alone wasn’t exactly sporting.”

I eased my hand from her mouth, ready to clamp it back if she screamed. Instead, she spun to face me, those amber eyes blazing like hellfire when they met mine. Up close, I could see flecks of gold in them, floating like embers. Her scent hit me again, cinnamon and woodsmoke and so addictive I could lose myself in it.

Mate.

“What are you doing here?” she snapped, keeping her voice low as she backed against the wall.

“I could ask you the same question.” I shrugged, tracking the way her chest rose and fell with each rapid breath. “Though I’m beginning to think stalking is your hobby.”

Truthfully, I’d been watching Francis all night. After that scene at the market, how could I not? I’d noticed him at the bar—thin, rigid posture, constantly checking his watch like he had somewhere better to be. He’d nursed the same drink for an hour, while his eyes cataloged every entrance and exit.

Not exactly tourist behavior.

I’d followed him when he left, telling myself I was just being cautious. Looking out for the community. But the truth was simpler—I hoped he’d lead me to her.

And he had.

“You weren’t supposed to be there in the first place.” Her tail lashed against my calf. “I had everything under control.”

“Sure. If your idea of control involves knife wounds.” I glanced towards the window she’d been peeping into. “What do you want so badly that you’d risk your neck twice in one night?”

She hesitated, amber eyes calculating. I could practically see her weighing how much to reveal, what story to spin. I’d seen that look before—in negotiators, traders. Warriors sizing up opponents.

“He has a relic,” she finally said, “It was stolen from my people long, long ago. Anyone who returns it gets...” She hesitated, then finished, “Anything they ask for.”

She was still holding back. The careful way she measured her words, the tension in her shoulders. She was giving me just enough to keep me from walking away. But behind those ember-flecked eyes lurked deeper secrets.

“And what are you asking for, Red?”

Her expression shuttered. “You’re nosy for someone who nearly got his ass handed to him earlier.”

“Just trying to figure out if I’m helping a thief or a hero.” I cocked my head. “Though I’m guessing the truth is somewhere in between.”

Her jaw worked, but she didn’t deny it.

I weighed my options. I could walk away, leave her to whatever trouble she was courting. Head back to Torain and Carissa’s place, where they’d politely keep their hands to themselves while I was around, but their scents would give away exactly what they wanted to be doing. The long looks and subtle touches would feel like splinters under my nails.

Or I could crash at Galan and Hannah’s cabin, where Galan wouldn’t bother hiding his annoyance at my presence cockblocking him from fucking his mate senseless. Hannah would be civil, but the tension would be unbearable.

Or I could hike back to Grimstone in the dark with only my thoughts for company. Thoughts of mates and bonds and the cruel joke of finding mine in a woman who clearly wanted nothing to do with me.

But then I’d never know what made this fiery woman tick. What drove her to skulk through shadows and risk capture for a trinket. Why the scent of her made my blood sing even as her words cut like knives.

Fuck it. If fate was handing me someone who looked like her and dropped me into a meeting with a side of heist, I was willing to listen.

“I’ll help you.”

She blinked. “What?”

“I said I’ll help you.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “But I have one condition.”

She rolled her eyes. “Let me guess. Another kiss?”

I grinned, enjoying the flush that crept up her neck. “Been thinking about it, have you?”

The snarl that tore from her throat was pure predator. Before I could react, she grabbed the front of my shirt and yanked me down to her level. Her mouth crashed against mine, all teeth and flame and savage heat.

I gripped her hips, dragging her body against mine. Fire roared beneath my skin, burning away self-control. She tasted like spice and danger, a combination I craved more deeply than any alcohol or drug. The heat of her tongue stroked against mine, setting off fireworks in my veins.

Everything about this woman made me ravenous, starving for a single drop more of her taste, her heat. Her tail brushed down my spine in a teasing caress, sending a jolt of desire straight to my already half-hard cock. I groaned against her lips, needing to get closer, needing to feel every inch of her skin on mine.

She tore free, chest rising and falling rapidly as she gasped for air. Her cheeks were flushed, pupils blown, lips swollen from my kiss. Those sharp fangs flashed in a feral grin.

“There,” she spat. “Condition met. Now help me or get lost.”

A low chuckle bubbled up my throat. “Condition met. Dinner should be easy after that display.”

She blinked. “What?”

“The kiss was your idea.” I brushed my thumb along her lower lip, feeling the heat of her breath against my skin. “Not that I’m complaining.”

Her mouth opened and closed, speechless for the first time since I’d met her. The look of outrage on her face was almost worth the ache of pulling away from her.

“Dinner,” I said. “That’s my condition. You, me, a table, and some honest conversation.”

“You— I—” She glared up at me, but there was a hint of something else in her eyes. Interest, maybe. Or at least less murderous intent than before. “Are you always this aggravating?”

I shrugged. “Depends. Are you agreeing, or should I start shouting for the authorities?”

Her tail lashed once, twice. Then she nodded, a sharp jerk of her chin. “Fine. Dinner. After I get what I came for.”

I studied her face, searching for deception. The bond between us pulsed, urging trust where caution was warranted. But beneath her bravado, I sensed genuine desperation. Whatever she wanted that relic for, it mattered. Deeply.

And hell if I wasn’t curious to see how this played out.

“Instead of dinner,” I said, letting my gaze drift deliberately down her body, “how about we get a room?”