Page 3

CHAPTER TWO

Vartok

The small drill twisted between my fingers as I bore into the round bead.

Tonight I was working with wood, boring the holes through the beads I’d carved last month and just finished sanding down.

These weren’t as easy to create as the clay ones, but they lasted longer.

Not as long as silver, but they didn’t require the forge, either.

When the drill popped through the other side, one corner of my lips twitched in satisfaction, and I lifted the small bead to my mouth to gently blow out the sawdust. Then I examined the tiny sphere.

Perfect.

Nodding in satisfaction, I placed it in the bowl with its twins. I wasn’t sure what I would use these for, not yet. Although I preferred silver for my own hair beads, I might widen the hole in these at a later time for braids. Or mayhap I’d paint and string them together to make a necklace for Nan.

I picked up another small sphere and settled the thin drill in place.

I’d been trained as a smith since a young age, and my wooden, silver, and clay beads were popular trade items. Since my people saw no need for wealth, these wooden beads were worth the same as my silver when it came to trade, but usually I kept them within my own clan because it made me happy to see my friends and family wearing them.

My fingers slowed their twisting as I stared down at the bead.

What would she look like wearing a strand of my beads? Something I’d made with my hands for her?

Would she wear it proudly, pleased by their simple beauty? Or would she not understand the significance?

Snorting quietly to myself, I shook my head and began the drill spinning again as I picked up another small wooden sphere.

Myra the Bloodfire Midwife had never shown any interest in my beads, or me .

It was a struggle to remind my Kteer of this.

Eight months ago, my cousin Mkaalad had followed his twin brother through the veil to help scout for the Bladesedge warriors, our enemies. Instead, he’d found Avaleen, the Mate bond making itself known immediately and strongly .

Avaleen came to live with us, while her sister stayed behind to care for their ailing—and by all accounts horribly cruel—uncle.

When the uncle finally died, and Avaleen was carrying her Mate’s bairn, Myra packed up their possessions and traveled through the stones to our world to care for her younger sister.

I’d taken one look at her and known .

What is it that Nan had taught us all when we were kitlings?

There is a kenning .

My Kteer , that primitive part of me focused on keeping me alive, had seen her, scented her, known her.

And she wanted naught to do with me.

It had been a bitter draught to swallow.

Me, who had spent my life as carefree and generous with my skills as the male stalkaanan . Me, who was known far and wide as a charmer, a rake. Me, who the village females used to say would never settle down.

In that instant, I’d known Myra was my Mate, and despite my smiles, my charm, she was cold and standoffish.

I lifted the bead to the candle to peer at it. The hole had not dug sufficiently deep, so I rolled it in my fingers and bent over it again, drilling from the opposite side, hoping I was lined up properly so it would hang evenly.

Mayhap I would have devoted more time to wooing her—or at least try to change her opinion of me—had I had the time .

Instead, within the moon’s cycle of her arrival, we receive word of my brother’s disappearance.

Kragorn and I had shared a womb, like so many pairs of orc brothers, but he’d been born before me, and thus destined to be the next Bloodfire chief, thank the gods. How often had I blessed Malla the Beginner for granting that responsibility to him rather than me?

But during the raid last summer against the Bladesedge warriors, Kragorn had gone missing. Not fallen , I had to remind myself often. There was no evidence Kragorn was dead . He was just…gone.

And without a chief, Clan Bloodfire had turned to me .

The tip of the drill hit the pocket I’d made earlier, and I tightened my hold on the bead as I joined the two channels, then blew out the center and placed the bead in the bowl with the others.

I lifted a few and allowed them to roll between my heat-callused fingers, satisfied by their smoothness and simplicity.

I never wanted the responsibility of running the clan. I understood the forge, understood heat, understood how to craft. I was happiest there, creating things with my hammer and tools.

Instead, I’d spent the last half a year struggling to lead my clan in the right direction. Thank the gods below that so many had agreed to join a council, to help me lead. It had been one of my better ideas, I thought, and allowed me to not have to worry about making all the decisions myself.

And it allowed me a little more time to forge or craft .

With a sigh, I let the last of the beads trail through my fingers then turned to the sawdust on the table. I needed to clean up then try to sleep. Tomorrow would be another long day, and I had plenty to accomplish.

Still, as I swept up the detritus of my project, I remembered the knife.

The knife that Myra had brought me. I’d examined it after she—and her icy heart—had run from me. It hadn’t been poorly made, not the way I’d expected…but it definitely needed a new handle. ‘Twould be easy enough to carve a new one, but…

I hadn’t started on that project yet, because I wasn’t certain how I wanted to do it. Wasn’t sure how to make it truly special.

Standing up, I stretched until my bones popped, not bothering to hold back the groan as my muscles released. I’d bathed earlier but still needed to visit the hot springs. I’d been avoiding it lately, mainly because ‘twas humiliating to be seen with a near-constant cockstand.

The half-year since Myra had come into my life had been frustratingly abstinent. My Kteer wouldn’t allow me to be with another female when my Mate was so close…but my Mate had made her feelings clear.

I’d called her icy earlier today, but she was caring and gentle and warm with everyone…everyone who wasn’t me . The fact that she had never smiled at me, never flirted back, and had only treated me with disdain? It told me everything I needed to know.

But by Torvar’s hammer !

If Myra ever gave me the least indication that she was interested in me?

Deep in my chest, my Kteer stirred at the thought, and I pressed my claws into my skin, trying to calm it.

If she did? I would show her such pleasure.

She willnae .

Aye. She didn’t know what she wanted from life. From me .

There were times I scented arousal on her, and while my Kteer —and my cock—had exalted in knowing she wasn’t immune to my charms, the fact she controlled it, sublimated it… Well, it told me how she felt about me. Or didn’t feel.

If she ever gave me an indication she did want me, I’d long known what I would do. I would lead her to the ending we both wanted. Needed . I was so much more experienced than her and could teach her so many things.

Just the thought of it—of her staring up at me with those dark eyes lidded with desire and her lips parted breathlessly—made me groan.

Unbidden, my hand dropped to my cock, cupping it through the wool of my kilt.

Myra was controlled and reserved, but in bed? I prayed she would allow herself to let go, to revel in the pleasure I could bring her. I stroked myself, imagining the way she would respond, the little mewls of pleasure I knew I could tease from her as I licked her.

With another groan, I yanked up my kilt, my breath hissing between my teeth as my hand closed around my cock .

How many times in the last months had I stroked myself like this, thinking of her? Thinking of my Mate who wasn’t mine? Thinking of Myra’s dark skin and lithe curves and rare smiles?

If I couldn’t have her in my bed, I’d have her in my dreams.

I wasn’t proud of the way I came into the cloth I’d used to clean earlier, grunting her name quietly. But it wasn’t the first time, either.

With a sigh, I tossed the cloth into my wash pile and went to heat some water.

I needed to go to bed.

And hope I would dream of something besides her.

Myra

Oh God .

Was I really doing this?

Of course. You deserve this. Your sister agrees. We all agree. Just knock on the damned door !

Instead, I stared at the wooden panel, lit by the half-moon glinting off the snow piled around the walkway. The forge was never completely cold, and thus Vartok’s cottage was never completely dark.

Mayhap tonight was the exception. Mayhap tonight he’d gone to bed at a reasonable hour instead of allowing the stress and pressure of running the clan in his brother’s absence keep him awake all night.

Are you hoping that is the case, or dreading it ?

Mayhap I should not have had that extra ale.

I swayed forward, and before my good sense could stop it, I’d knocked.

On Vartok’s door.

In the middle of the night.

I told myself I would give him ten seconds. If he didn’t answer by then, I would assume he was asleep and slink away to my bed—to try to satisfy this ache with my fingers yet again—and pretend it never happened.

But by the time I reached “four” I heard footsteps, and then the door was being yanked open.

“Myra,” Vartok blurted before he could even fully see me. “What is it? Is Avaleen well?”

How had he known ‘twas me? Wait, what had he asked? The ale had muddled my thought processes, surely.

“I…she is fine,” I managed, swallowing past a dry throat. “Sleeping soundly with your cousin snoring at her side.”

Sharing a cottage with my sister and her Mate had been…an education, if naught else.

At my announcement, Vartok’s large shoulders loosened, and I realized he’d been worried for Avaleen.

Logical. Why else would you be at his door this late at night ?

Now he was eyeing me speculatively .

“Come in.”

Telling myself I was only agreeing because it was freezing outside, and to do otherwise would be rude, I accepted his invitation. When the door shut behind me, my heart sped up.