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CHAPTER ELEVEN

Jorak

The first day back in Bloodfire Village, I was…surprised. Aye, surprised was the best word for it.

The people—my clan—all remembered me and greeted me almost deferentially. As if I was someone important . They hailed me with, “Welcome home, Keeper!” and offered me small gifts.

‘Twas strange.

My people should be ashamed of me, should they not? I’d failed in battle, I’d become half a male. My distraction, my lack of control, had resulted in disaster, and I’d spent seven years atoning for that lapse.

But apparently they saw this as service to the clan . At least, that’s what Vartok told me before he was called away to settle a dispute between Darnaal the shepherd and his brother. He asked to meet with me the next day, and although I’d planned on returning to the stones, I couldn’t deny the request from the acting chief.

Unfortunately, Mkaalad discovered I was no longer in a meeting and badgered me into sparring with him.

I still carried a blade because ‘twould be foolish to travel through the Highlands without it. But I didn’t practice with it nearly as much as I had when I was younger. My balance was different now, and my left arm was slower, more cumbersome.

Still, my cousin— second cousin —refused my excuses, and I ended up with a shield strapped to the remains of my right elbow, sweat streaming down my face, as Mkaalad cheerfully hacked at me.

‘Twas humiliating.

And difficult as the hells themselves to keep my Kteer in place. It wanted me to berserker rage, to attack, to hack away at my perpetually smiling cousin, and do real pain damage hurt kill , and I wasn’t going to allow that. But I was itchy and irritable and breathing heavily, trying to contain those urges while also working muscles I hadn’t in a long while.

But Mkaalad seemed oblivious to my struggle. And through it all, he called out encouragement.

“Good! Aye, a fine block. Nay, ye must see that coming!” He laughed as he swatted me in the thigh with the side of his blade, making my Kteer howl in fury. “Faster, Keeper— Good ,” he blurted in admiration when I finally went on the attack.

Dimly, I was aware of the other males who’d halted their sparring and were gathering around to watch our humiliating bout. I hated that they were seeing me like this—awkward, shamed, out of practice.

But to my surprise, I began to hear shouts of encouragement from them. Cheers when I landed a blow. Bellowed suggestions and advice. Wagers and heckling for both Mkaalad and myself.

The cadence was…familiar, somehow. Welcoming.

They weren’t there to mock my lack of practice or my missing arm or even the impetuousness which had led to it. They were there in support . They were there as my clan. As my friends?

The sun was rushing toward the west when Mkaalad lowered his sword and backed away, panting. With that big grin on his face, he called out.

“Well done, Keeper. Do ye need a bath as much as I do?”

And I felt my scowl easing.

“I doubt I stink half as bad as ye.”

He threw back his head and laughed then stepped up to my side—still chattering away about the match—and removed the shield from my arm without being asked.

‘Twas strange to have him touch me. To have him help me without waiting for me to ask. Would I have asked? I’d grown used to doing things alone over the last seven years, but I could not have managed the shield alone. My cousin had seen what I needed, and did it nonchalantly, without judgement.

Hmm.

I didn’t say much as a group of us—sweaty, jostling warriors—soaked in the hot springs, but I listened. I listened to how they spoke to one another…and how they spoke to me . And I felt…

Well, I suppose I felt as if, for an afternoon, I was one of them. As if I could have a place here in this chaotic, loud life, so very different from what I was used to.

But by the time I returned to my cottage, my Kteer was back to making its demands. Irritation bubbled inside me and I knew it had naught to do with the sparring or the realizations of the day, and everything to do with the tempting little female who waited for me.

As Verna spoke in excitement about the women she’d met and how she’d spent her day preparing this meal for us with her new friends, ‘twas even more obvious how much she deserved this. How much she needed to live in Bloodfire Village.

But I was the Keeper. My place was at the stones, was it not?

That night, I couldn’t not reach for her. But I knew my Kteer —and my cock, and my heart —wasn’t going to be satisfied with merely holding her. So I waited until she fell asleep, then rolled up in my plaid in front of the dwindling fire.

The hearth was uncomfortable, but I told myself no worse than what I deserved.

I snuck from the cottage before the sun was up, like a dog with its tail between its legs, unwilling to face Verna’s cheer. Wandering the village that early was cold, lonely, and frankly stupid, but Nan opened her door as if there was never a doubt I’d be standing there.

“Come in, laddie, and have another sausage roll afore ye meet with Vartok.”

Did the old female know everything? I couldn’t pass up one of her sausage rolls though, so I followed her inside. Determined not to linger, I stood beside the door, but when I bit into the warm bread, I couldn’t contain my rumble of approval.

“Good, eh?” She nudged me with her elbow, then crossed her arms and stood there, watching me eat. “I like a lad who can appreciate good cooking.”

I’d missed good cooking, all these years. ‘Twas no more than I deserved, learning to make my own pottage and bread, but?—

Why ?

I frowned thoughtfully while I chewed. Why, what?

Why did ye deserve that? To struggle? To be lonely?

I preferred to be alone. No distractions.

Ye isolated yerself as punishment. Ye denied yerself the things ye loved for seven years. Why?

Because I deserved it.

For momentarily losing focus? For suffering a horrible injury?

Scowling, I stopped eating, glaring down at the treat in my hand. Where in the shite had all these thoughts come from?

“I’ll wrap it up for ye, Jorak,” came Nan’s quiet offer. “Ye have much on yer mind.”

I did.

When she shooed me out the door, I grunted my thanks, but said naught else to her, afraid if I opened my mouth, the words would spill out. Words I didn’t yet know or understand.

Not sure if I wanted them to spill out. If I wanted to hear them myself.

I was still scowling when I arrived at Vartok’s home, the small one attached to the smithy. ‘Twas always warm in here, which was nice in the winter.

“Good morning,” Vartok yawned, inviting me in. “Ale?”

I raised a brow, and he shrugged sheepishly in response to my question. “I havenae gone to sleep yet. ‘Tis still verra late at night for me.”

“Fook, Vartok, the shepherd thing must have ye worried.”

He plopped down at his table and dropped his head into his hands. “ Everything has me worried. What if we cannae find Kragorn? What if he’s…”

Dead . He didn’t have to say it.

Each full moon since the autumn raiding season, I’d seen the messages flying back and forth, the comings and goings, as the clan become more frantic to find their missing chief.

“We would’ve had word if he was dead, Vartok.”

“No’ if he fell after the battle.” His voice was muffled. “There was chaos in the retreat. If he was wounded and separated…”

The blacksmith, normally so charming and affable, sounded bleak now.

“Or captured by Tarbert. They could have killed him and tossed his body into a pit, and the gods wouldnae even have a chance to honor him.”

Oh hells, mayhap the male did need some ale. I crossed to the mantel, where a pitcher waited.

“Ye’ve always been his heir. Ye had to have kenned this was a possibility.”

Vartok lifted his head to glare at me, and I acknowledge ‘twas not the most sensitive thing to say. I thrust a mug of ale at him in apology.

“Ye’re good at talking to people,” I offered. “Ye’re diplomatic.”

“But I hate being in charge.” He stared into the depths of the ale. “I need a council. Torvolk. Ye.”

“Me?” I couldn’t help the way I blurted it. “I’m no’…”

“Ye’ve studied the most of any of us.” Taking a deep breath, he placed the mug on the table and met my eyes. “I need yer advice. I need ye to guide me. If I’m to tackle this—gods forbid, for the rest of my life—then I need to understand the past.”

I was impressed. “Aye, ye do.” ‘Twould be how I’d tackle the problem, for certes. “But it doesnae have to be me . I’m the Keeper.”

“Aye, and…” He scrubbed a hand down his face, his claw catching on the ring through his lip, and scowled at himself. “I would ask that ye consider moving back to the village for three weeks out of the month. I’ve already sent young Farord and Garn to yer byre-cottage—they’ll leave this morning and care for the animals while ye’re here. Please?”

He met my eyes. “I need ye, Keeper.”

Well, fook .

He was sending someone to care for the cows and chickens? Sighing, I rubbed the back of my neck.

“I’ll stay another day.”

“A fortnight,” Vartok countered, his gaze determined. “I’m no’ the only one who needs ye here. The clan needs ye to teach us. Myra tells me ye’ve taught Verna to read ?”

“I’ve taught her the basics,” I confessed.

“Yer clan needs that. We need ye , Keeper.”

“I…” I shook my head. “The stones…”

Vartok leaned back in his chair and folded his arms.

“The stones only need ye a few days out of the month. Ye can be both the Keeper of the Bloodfire legacy and the Bloodfire veil, aye?”

Could I? Could I live in the village for three weeks out of the month, and tend to the stones when the veil was open?

I thought of Verna, and how happy she was here. I thought of being able to see her for part of the month, when I visited…

“At least a sennight, Keeper,” he wheedled. “Or stay until after the Festival. I have a thousand questions already. For certes, ye can help me.”

Another sennight of sleeping on the hearth to avoid having to touch Verna. Another sennight of my Kteer urging me to touch claim lick taste love .

“I cannae,” I whispered in a raspy voice, my eyes closing, accepting the truth. “I have to leave. I cannae stay around her.”

It wasn’t until I heard Vartok’s hiss that I realized what I’d confessed. I winced.

“Ye havenae claimed her yet?” he asked.

My shoulders dropped back against the mantel and I opened my eyes, only to stare over his shoulder at the door to the smithy.

“Nay,” I croaked, hating the confession. “No’ completely.”

Just the memory of the way she’d shuddered and spent on my tongue, the way she’d gasped my name…Malla the Beginner forgive me, I couldn’t be strong for very much longer.

“Keeper…” Vartok’s voice had gone soft, almost pitying. “Ye ken she’s yer Mate. Ye cannae argue with that. Yer eyes?—”

“Aye, I ken it,” I growled. An orc’s eyes glowed when he was in the midst of some passion—anger, fear, love…or the Mating Heat. “She doesnae.”

Vartok tilted his head to the side, sending his beaded tail of hair swaying. “And when ye return to the stones, ye’ll take her with ye?”

“Nay.” I took a deep breath. “She belongs here. With ye. With the women. Safe .”

“Ye could keep her safe. I heard ye held yer own against Mkaalad yesterday.”

The male really did know everything that went on, did he not? Scowling, I spat the words, “I’m missing an arm, Vartok.”

“And it didnae seem to matter.” The other male shrugged. “Ye cannae expect to return to yer stones and leave yer Mate here, Keeper. It willnae work, no’ with the Heat, or yer Kteer . If ye return without her, if ye deny yerself…”

I saw him swallow as he shook his head, dropping his gaze to the mug on the table in front of him as he continued in a whisper.

“That horrible feeling in yer chest and limbs will continue. ‘Twill get worse . Ye willnae be able to concentrate, naught will make sense.”

I studied the ornaments wove through his dark hair with a frown.

How did he know? He was speaking from experience, I was certain of that. What had been happening in the village? What had Vartok been struggling with?

I straightened with a deep breath.

“I can control it.”

I could . The last seven years of my life had been all about control. I could do this.

But the acting chief just shook his head sadly and finally met my eyes.

“Ye would be lonely.”

“I like being alone.”

He grunted softly. “Do ye?” Without giving me a chance to lie, he shook his head again. “Ye cannae leave with it unresolved between ye and Verna. Ye have to explain to her. Ye have to go claim yer Mate.”

Long after I’d sent him to bed and promised to return in the afternoon, long after I stalked through the village on the way to the loch, long after I’d found my old favorite overlook and stood there, glaring at the frigid waters, I remembered his words.

Go claim yer Mate.

Go claim yer Mate.

Go claim yer Mate.

My Kteer approved, of course, judging from the jostling in my chest. But was it the logical thing to do? Giving into instinct, giving into my heart ?

My gaze shifted to the stump of my right arm. Look what had happened the last time I loosened my hold on my control. Disaster. I’d lost my…my everything .

But…

I swallowed.

Mayhap disaster would be worth it, to claim Verna as my Mate. Even just for a night.