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CHAPTER FOUR

Myra

How I managed to make it back to Avaleen’s cottage without melting into a puddle of shame was beyond me. Her Mate did look at me strangely the next morning, and I wondered if he’d smelled what I’d done last night.

Was it possible Mkaalad knew who’s home I’d visited? I hoped to God not.

Before he could ask, I made excuses about working with Nan and slipped away.

Nan was human, like me. Many decades age, she’d been kidnapped by her Mate, an honorable orc male who had been unable to stop the Mating Heat.

She was happy to share stories of her years in Bloodfire Village, and I knew they were happy ones.

They must be, considering how many of the inhabitants were descended from her .

Mkaalad and his twin brother Torvolk were her grandsons, as were Vartok and his twin brother, our chief Kragorn. When a human woman birthed an orc’s son, the lad grew up with orcish features, so two generations later, there was no discerning Vartok from a full-blooded orc male.

In fact, Nan had confided in me her theory that orc blood required human women to keep it strong, and that if they ceased Mating with humans, the orcs would eventually die out.

An intriguing idea, but I hoped it never happened. In the last six months, I had come to care for the Bloodfire Clan far more than the humans who had shunned me.

All of this was to say: Nan wasn’t an orc and thus couldn’t make any guesses about my evening—or any new changes in me—based on how I smelled. Or didn’t smell. I don’t know how it worked exactly.

What I knew was I had changed, in some way. Not just being slightly inebriated, but being free .

Last night, by knocking on Vartok’s door, by giving him control, by following his commands and bringing myself to orgasm with my fingers while he watched …

I’d felt a freedom I hadn’t expected. ‘Twas as if…

as if, by allowing myself to follow his commands, by trusting him to teach me what I needed, I was… I was safe .

It had been a strange realization, and ‘twas the reason, as much as the whole finger fooking while he watched thing, which had sent me running into the night with hardly a thank ye on my tongue .

It had felt good to give up control, and that was a little scary.

I was used to being the older sister, the one who cared for Avaleen, the one who took on the responsibility. But coming to Bloodfire Village and seeing how these people all cared for and supported one another…I was a little lost.

Did I have to be strong all the time, if there were others nearby who could help me?

Did I have to be in control all the time, if there was someone I trusted to make the right decisions for me?

And… did I trust Vartok?

I did last night, although I hadn’t expected to.

He’d always treated me differently, but last night…

I swallowed and glanced down at the clean rag I was folding. Last night, Vartok had treated me differently, and I still wasn’t sure if I liked it…or if I was terrified by it.

He’d told me to come to him again tonight, and I’d been fighting with myself all day. I wanted more of what he could teach me, but…was it safe? Not for my body—apparently I trusted him with that. But safe for my heart ?

“Are you feeling aright?” Avaleen asked as she pushed herself to her feet with a slight groan. “You hardly spoke at all during supper.”

I offered her a quick smile. “I was just thinking about my day with Nan. And I should be asking you how you feel. Is the bairn giving you trouble?”

My sister was easily distracted by talk of her wee one these days. Her grimace turned into a soft smile as she rubbed her bulging stomach. “Mkaalad agreed to go on a short walk with me.”

“A verra short one,” her Mate grumbled from across the cottage, where he was fetching her cloak. “Ye should no’ be taxing yerself.”

I exchanged an amused glance with Avaleen. “Moving about is healthy . You still have a fortnight to go.”

“That is what I told him—” my sister began, but she was interrupted by a knock at the door.

I plopped my folded rag on the pile and picked up the next from the washing Avaleen had done, as Mkaalad pulled open the door to reveal?—

“Vartok!” he boomed. “Welcome, cousin! Ye’re smelling…” Mkaalad trailed into chuckles, his hairy eyebrows working overtime to match his smarmy grin.

Was it my imagination, or did Vartok’s cheeks flush as he met my eyes? I dropped my gaze in mortification, wondering if Mkaalad could guess.

I heard Vartok clear his throat as he was invited in.

“Nay, I’ll no’ stay. I—I came for Myra.”

Mkaalad chuckled again as my eyes snapped back up, suddenly terrified that Vartok was going to just announce our relationship to everyone.

Wait, relationship? What we did last night wasn’t a relationship , was it?

He was just my tutor, and I was his student.

Mayhap he saw my panic, because the muscles of his jaw loosened and he gave me the barest of nods .

“I have—I have an injury, Myra. I have need of…yer services.”

An excuse, thank God! I dropped the cloth.

“I will fetch my bag,” I blurted too loudly. Too eagerly? I suppose I was eager to get away before my sister or her Mate could guess where I’d been last night.

As I hurried to the door—to escape, Avaleen’s suspicious looks, I told myself, not to be nearer to Vartok—my sister moved to her Mate’s side.

“Myra can see to your injury here,” she offered.

I saw Vartok open his mouth, and I had the horrible thought that he was going to explain I need her to come to my home so I can command her to undress and touch herself and she will because she is completely under my control .

So I forced an easy tone and called back, “You two are going for a walk. Vartok likely wants me to help him in public somewhere. Where naught untoward can happen. Right?” I demanded.

His easy smile was as much for them as me, as he held open the door.

“There’s a large fire in the Council Hall. Would that be acceptable, Mistress Midwife?”

With my head up, I swept past him.

We didn’t speak as we walked, but I was surprised when he did lead me toward the open-sided hut we called the Council Hall, nodding his greetings to the few villagers who were still out and about on the cold night. I snuggled deeper into my cloak and dreaded being recognized .

So what if you are recognized? Everyone knows Vartok is a charmer but wants naught to do with you. So what if they think you have succumbed to his charms? So what if they think you actively hounded him into teaching you about pleasure ?

I tried to tamp down on the little moan of humiliation that thought brought about, but from the way he glanced at me, he’d heard it.

We reached the Hall, and there was indeed a cozy fire burning in the center beneath the large opening in the roof. This was the village’s meeting place, where celebrations and ceremonies took place, and the roof kept us all dry.

It also made it feel a bit private.

Vartok took my hand as we stepped around the half-wall, leading me toward the bench nearest the fire. Did he truly care about light for his injury, or did he want to stay warm? Either way, I was pleased that there was no one around…but we were still not completely private, either.

‘Twill keep you from wrapping yourself around him and demanding he make you climax again.

I snorted softly, and Vartok studied me as he settled me on the bench at his side. I turned slightly to face him.

“Why did ye no’ come to me?”

“Where is yer injury?”

We both spoke at the same time.

Before I could process his question, or begin to consider how to answer it, his lips curled ruefully and he held up his left hand. For the first time, I noticed a small bandage wrapped around his forearm .

“One of the first lessons a smith learns is no’ to become distracted around coals,” he admitted. “I was distracted today.”

I was already reaching for the satchel I’d grabbed from Avaleen’s home.

“I have some burn salve I could?—”

He captured my hand, stilling me. “It is aright, Myra. Nan keeps me well-supplied in burn salve, and I ken how to apply it. It truly wasnae so bad, but ‘twas all I could think of to get ye away from yer sister’s home.”

I found myself flushing in appreciation.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my hand caught in his so I couldn’t walk away. Before I could think better of it, I asked, “Why were you distracted?”

His lips curled into another rueful smile, and I noticed that spark of green in his dark eyes again.

“I should say I was distracted by memories of yer taste, aye? And ‘twould no’ be a lie. But at the moment it happened, I was listening to Klorbkal complain about the changes in the sheep pasture plots.” He shrugged, as if he hadn’t just embarrassed—and thrilled—me.

“I was frustrated by the pettiness and allowed myself to be distracted.”

There was something about the set of his jaw…I peered closer.

“You really were irritated?”

“Aye, of course!” He blew out his breath and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees without releasing my hand.

“This whole damnable position irritates me. Why should I care whose sheep needs penning? What do I ken about the proper times to plant, and how the seeds should be cared for? And precedents?” He clucked his tongue. “I hate it.”

“You hate precedent?” I hedged, trying to understand.

His breath huffed out of him in an approximation of a chuckle.

“I hate having to remember them. I was made to hammer metal. ‘Tis an art, a skill. I have patience at the forge, or when I am working on my crafts…” When he shook his head, the beads in his braids tinkled, telling me which craft he meant. “But nae patience for this sort of thing.” He turned his full attention to me. “I am no’ a leader, Myra.”

I didn’t know what to say.

Here he was, staring at the fire, sharing his feelings. His secrets. And all I could think of was how handsome he looked in his cloak, his booted knees spread. Knowing he would guess my body’s reaction, I refused to remember how his knees had looked, covered in his seed.