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CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Jorak

Two days before Midwinter’s Eve, I woke to feel Verna pressed against my back. ‘Twas not sexual, but…comforting. This was the first time in a sennight I had not woken painfully aroused, and the way she held me now reminded me of our first few mornings together.

When she was busy burrowing into my heart.

I closed my eyes and sighed in contentment.

‘Twas only later that I thought to wonder why her hold had felt so desperate. Why her forehead was pressed against my skin as if she wanted to imprint herself on me…or vice versa.

She was gone when I woke the next time, but she’d left porridge for me. I smiled as I ate it, and realized I’d been doing more of that since she’d come into my life.

Smiling. Laughing, even.

But as the morning wore on, I felt less like smiling. That gnawing, itchy sensation was back in my chest, making me scowl at passersby. My Kteer was alerting me to danger, but I could see none.

I even checked my reflection in the water bucket, but my eyes were as dark as they were supposed to be. This wasn’t the Mating Heat.

So, what was it?

I was sparring with Garron when Avaleen and Myra strolled by, the midwife supporting her sister, who looked as big as a house. I frowned, briefly distracted. I’d thought Verna would be with her friends, but?—

Taking advantage of my distraction, Garron smashed the side of his blade into my shoulder. The resulting guffaws made me focus, although my Kteer howled for blood.

At noon I ate with the other men then followed Nan’s instructions as she bossed us all about to set up the bonfire. Two nights hence, ‘twould be lit by a spark from our chief—our acting chief—and we would all take a branch home to relight our hearths.

Home.

Aye, I knew now that the cottage in the village was home in a way my little house by the stones could never be.

Seeing the Bloodfire clan come together, working and teasing and shouting to prepare for a joyful occasion, should have made me proud. But instead, my chest ached more.

Where was Verna?

The clan females were bustling about, cooking, preparing the feast, herding the kitlings…but I didn’t see Verna. I didn’t see Isadora, for that matter. Were they together?

“Ho, Torvolk!” I flagged down the other male. “Have ye seen Verna?” I glanced at the sky. ‘Twould be dark in another few hours. “She must be hard at work?”

Frowning, the other male shook his head as he hurried toward his cottage.

“She’s no’ with Isadora,” he called over his shoulder.

That itchy, dreading sensation began to grow in my chest, and I dug my claws into my skin as I turned in a circle. Looking for Verna? Or looking for…

“Keeper!” ‘Twas Vartok’s shout, and as I turned, I saw the smith-turned-chief jogging toward us, a worried look on his face. “Have ye seen Verna today?”

Worried now, I shook my head. “Have ye?”

He was panting as he stopped before me. “Myra—she said…” He stopped to take a few deep breaths, and I resisted the urge to shake him. “She and Myra were together yesterday.”

“Aye, I ken it,” I growled. How did Vartok know this? “Are they together today?”

The other male shook his head. “I cannae be certain, because the female is the most stubborn being Malla put on this ground?—”

“Verna is perfect,” I snapped.

Vartok patted the air in front of him. “No’ Verna, Myra . She willnae give me a straight answer, but something she said made me wonder if Verna had plans to leave.”

“Leave?” I barked, stepping up to grab Vartok by his cloak and haul him closer. Panic colored my voice. “Leave the village? Why?”

“I dinnae ken.” The other male wasn’t offended by my handling, but kept his palms open to show he didn’t mean to retaliate. “But Myra seemed to think she was…” He winced. “Afraid? Like she had a reason to run?”

Afraid ?

My throat tightened and I stumbled back, dropping Vartok. The other male watched me in concern.

“Why—” I croaked. “Afraid?”

“No’ of ye,” Vartok assured me quietly. “Myra hinted she was running to save ye.”

Myra hinted?

“Myra!” I roared, turning about. “Myra! Where are ye!”

“Hold, Keeper!” Vartok shouted, throwing himself in front of me and blocking me from running after the midwife. “She’s no’ the one?—”

“Myra!” I bellowed again. “I need ye!”

The dark woman came at a run, rounding the corner from Nan’s house, her skirts held high, her boots slapping the snow. She took in the scene—Vartok barely holding me in check—and her eyes widened.

“What is it?” she asked, getting right to the point. “Who is hurt?”

Someone would be hurt if I didn’t get answers! I pushed against Vartok, trying to get closer to my Mate’s friend, but the bastard wouldn’t let me.

“Myra! Where is Verna? Where did she go?”

The midwife actually stepped back—from my frantic rage? Or in loyalty?

“Lass,” I growled in warning.

Myra lifted her chin and met my eyes. Whatever she saw there must have convinced her, because after a moment’s hesitation, she blew out a breath and looked away.

“The stones,” she murmured. “Verna went back to the stones to stop him.”

“Him?” repeated Vartok, but his moment of distraction was all I needed to throw off his hold.

“A horse!” I roared, sprinting toward the clan’s stables. “I need a horse!”

I found her tracks two miles out of the village, heading—as her friend said—back to the stones.

But what made my chest tighten and my blood freeze was that there were only her prints. No horse.

The damn foolish female had set off across the Highlands on foot again!

Bellowing wordlessly in fear and anger, I spurred my own animal on.

How well I remembered the irritation and ire as I’d tracked her once before; but then, she’d only represented a distraction, an obligation, a disruption to my careful life. Now, though? Now, Verna was my life.

It took me longer than expected to catch up with her.

She’d set out early this morning, ‘twas clear, and had followed the sled marks the lads had made to and from the stones. Smart. Smarter still was evidence that she knew what she was doing. She took rests in protected areas, was clearly eating and drinking, and twice her steps sped when I found evidence of wolves in the trees. She’d seen it too, and hurried along.

Such reminders should have eased my fears, reminding me that she knew her woodlore and would be safe. But all I could imagine was my bold Mate being set upon by beasts, and I urged my mount ever faster.

We were only a few miles from the stones when I saw her, a distant figure in a red cloak struggling through the snow in the valley below. The spike of relief I felt did little to ease the tension in my chest, but it made me feel better.

Wordlessly, I galloped toward her.

Verna heard me coming and turned, her hands gripped before her, holding a…a dagger? Was that my dagger? I felt some relief that she hadn’t ventured out completely unprotected. Still, I was scowling as I pulled my horse to a stop before her.

“Female! What in the name of Torvor the Strong were ye thinking ?”

She’d lowered the dagger when she recognized me and now focused on sliding it back into its sheath. Although she tried to hide it, I could see her hands shaking, even covered in the mittens.

“I thought I would go for a stroll,” she said mildly.

‘Twas such a preposterous claim that I had to stifle my laughter. Instead, I tucked the reins beneath my thigh and thrust my hand out to her.

“Come. We’re going home.” Once I might have doubted my ability to ride with her in my lap…but not anymore.

Her chin rose and those spring-green eyes met mine.

“Nay. I am—” She swallowed. “I am going to the stones.”

My gaze flicked across the valley. Still miles away, my byre-cottage sat beside the pathway. She’d made the distance in a day, but still was not safe.

“Why would ye do something so stupid?” I murmured softly, shaking my head.

Not softly enough, apparently, because Verna slapped her hands on her hips and glared up at me.

“’Twas not stupid. I was prepared and supplied, and I had a plan.”

A ridiculous plan.

“Ye walked across the Highlands, lass!” The reminder had my anger tightening my chest again, and the horse sidestepped, reacting to my emotions. “That is stupid! Ye could have been—a thousand things could go wrong!”

Verna, still glaring at me, stepped up to the horse to grab its bridle and calm it.

“They did not go wrong. You might call it a stupid plan, but I am not stupid!”

“Of course ye’re no’ stupid,” I roared. “I love ye!”

When she huffed in irritation, the steam almost clouded her face.

“Then you must admit I did it correctly.”

I opened my mouth to yell again, but she quirked a brow in challenge and I clamped down on whatever I’d been about to say.

“Aye,” I reluctantly admitted. “Ye did well.”

“I am warm enough.” She waggled her mittens at me, and I saw she was also wearing a knitted hat and scarf beneath her two gowns—the gray one and the purple one. “And I have plenty of provisions.”

Sighing, I offered her my hand again. “’Twas a much better thought-out flight than the first time I had to save ye.”

Smirking, she took my hand, placed one of her booted feet atop mine, and allowed me to lift her into my lap. She was well-padded, and I was pleased to see she showed no signs of being too cold.

“You did not have to save me this time,” she announced primly, trying to twist to sit facing forward in the saddle. “I was almost to our wee cottage.”

Our .

The word melted away even more of my anger, and I clamped down on her to keep her right where she was. I could support her back with the remains of my right arm and guide the horse with my left. The worst part was being unable to hug her like I needed.

With a noncommittal grunt, I nudged the horse into a slow walk. The poor beastie needed his stall, but I wouldn’t push him tonight. The sun had already set over the mountains, painting the western sky pink, and the half-moon hung over the stones in the east.

As Verna got comfortable on my lap, I forced my heart to slow, my Kteer to cease calling for blood. She was safe. She was warm. She was in my hold. She was safe .

Gods below, I needed her.

When I thought I might be able to speak without my voice betraying all my emotions, I asked, “Why did ye sneak away, lass?”

“Because I knew you would try to stop me,” she admitted quietly, her gaze locked over the horse’s ear.

That made even less sense. “Then ye must have kenned I’d come after ye, aye?”

She didn’t speak for a long moment, then she blew out a breath that might’ve been a sigh.

“Nay, I thought…”

“Ye thought what?” I snapped, getting angry again.

Her eyes fluttered closed, although her back remained straight.

“I thought you would be happy in the village. You had your friends, you had a place…”

It took a few moments to sputter through that reasoning, to try to find a response that didn’t insult her.

Finally, I settled on, “I cannae be happy without ye, Verna.”

She sighed again and finally allowed her head to tip to the side, to rest against my shoulder, and I did my best to hold her.

She whispered, “I cannot be happy without you either, Jorak.”

And the ache in my chest eased.

Verna

We were almost to the house when Jorak finally asked the question I’d been dreading.

“Why did ye leave me, dkaar? Why did ye run from the village? I thought ye were happy there?”

I felt tears pricking at my lids.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” I managed to rasp, straightening and turning to him. “This was to protect you.”

Likely the wrong thing to say, judging from his scowl.

“Protect me, how?”

“Alred will…” I winced in frustration at my inability to explain. “He will have to come after me, do you not see? Once I realized what that deed said, I knew ‘twould be the truth. He has to come after me to retrieve it—his entire livelihood is based on his ownership of that building and his control over his whores.”

I felt his arm tighten against my back and knew he didn’t like the reminder of my past. A muscle in his jaw ticked, although he kept his attention on the path ahead in the deepening twilight.

“Ye realized this as soon as I read the deed to ye? Ye kenned then what it meant?”

“I needed to take the deed to Nan. It belonged to her,” I hedged.

“That’s no’ what I asked.” When he turned his hard gaze to me, I saw anger flashing green in his dark eyes. “Ye accepted me as yer Mate, ye welcomed me into yer body, ye told me I was special …even kenning ye’d be leaving me?”

I gasped as my stomach clenched and my heart ached.

“Jorak…” I whispered. I lifted my hand to his jaw, and wished I wasn’t wearing the silly mitten so I could feel his warm skin. “Jorak, you are special. You are my Mate.”

“I must no’ be,” he muttered, pulling his cheek from my grasp. “Mates dinnae abandon one another.”

“I had to ,” I cried—and aye, there were tears in those words. “He is a horrible, evil man, Jorak! If he came after me and found me in the village—if he found you …” I shook my head frantically enough to knock my hood off, frantically enough to cause the horse to sidestep slightly.

“I could not live with myself if he hurt you.”

“Ye think me incapable of defending myself?” he growled, and I winced again.

“I did not mean that.” I knew my tone was defeated, because I was defeated. “I know you are strong and capable and the smartest male I know…” I closed my eyes again and finished in a whisper.

“But I had to protect you.”

“Foolish female,” he finally muttered. “’Tis yer Mate’s job to protect ye .”

I could admit that I liked that plan. I tipped my shoulder against him once more.

“I cannot stand the thought of you being hurt further, Jorak. Because of me.”

“If Alred comes?—”

“He has to come,” I corrected. “If not this full moon, then the next or the next. If he does not, I have to go back to my world to tell him?—”

Jorak squeezed me tightly enough to cut off my words.

“Yer hypothesis is sound, dkaar . But if he doesnae come through next week, we’ll go to him together next month. We’ll find him. Together . Because that’s what Mates do.”

Together.

The word made tears prick my lids again. Or mayhap I was just feeling weepy.

Together.

But…

It will not work .

It wasn’t until I felt him stiffen that I realized I’d said the words aloud.

“ Why will it not work?” he growled.

I opened my eyes to see that we were approaching the byre-cottage. But instead of turning the horse toward the byre doors, Jorak had stopped halfway to the stone circle and was now glaring down at me.

I knew he wasn’t angry at me; not with how gently he held me. He was angry at my words, at the defeat in my tone. How to explain?

Swallowing, I looked away.

“My people… Humans do not understand Mating.”

“I thought I’d explained it to ye. There is a?—”

“Aye,” I interrupted, placing my hand against his chest. “A knowing . Mating is more than a partnership, or even love. It is a connection at the deepest level.”

His gaze turned difficult to read, even by the light of the half-moon.

“Today…I kenned there was something wrong, even before I learned what ye’d done.”

I winced, then lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug.

“And although you made no noise, I knew when you were coming for me. I could feel you riding toward me.”

When he exhaled, his muscles relaxed. “Ye do understand Mating, lass.”

“I do…but my people do not. Alred will not. If we face him together, he will see you as naught more than…” I forced myself to say the words. “Than a protector I have traded my cunny for.”

That had been my plan all along.

When I’d woken in Jorak’s byre-cottage, I’d thought only to secure my protection, and I’d use the only thing I had to trade…my body. Alred would make that assumption, and in some ways he’d be right.

But Jorak was studying me now, his expression unreadable. Mayhap he was thinking the same thing.

Finally, he shifted, holding his forearm out for me to grasp. We didn’t speak, but seemed to understand one another. He swung me from the saddle, then climbed down silently beside me. I took the reins from his hand and twined the fingers of my other hand through his.

Was he considering my words? Did he feel the sting of helplessness as well?

He was frowning down at me now.

“Does my role matter, dkaar ? Whether I am yer Mate or yer protector?”

“Alred has a contract with my name on it. He will believe I belong to him, and that would trump a hired protector.”

“The contract is past its expiration,” Jorak growled. “He will ken that.”

“But he will not know that we know it.” I didn’t bother keeping the pleading from my tone. “He knows I cannot read and would not think you capable of it.”

My Mate turned to the side and spat out a curse then began to stride toward the circle of stones, dragging me with him. The reins of the horse slid from my fingers, but I couldn’t care, not now.

“I am sorry, Jorak,” I cried, my heart breaking for him. “But to Alred, you are not my father, my brother, my husband, nor the owner of my contract. To him, our relationship is irrelevant.”

Irrelevant .

“Ye are my Mate !” Jorak roared, reaching the center of the circle and spinning to pierce me with his green gaze. “ Mine !”

“Aye,” I agreed softly, pressing my palm to his chest once more, and stepping close. “I know it, and you know it…but Alred will still believe himself to have a greater claim on me than you.”

“ Ye. Are. Mine .”

Strangely, Jorak’s anger was making me feel better . More confident about the upcoming confrontation, at least.

“And you are mine,” I agreed, tipping my head back to offer him a small smile. “I love you, Jorak.”

We stood there in silence for a few minutes, his breathing slowing, his shoulders no longer as tight, until he wrapped his arm around me and crushed me against his chest in a growl.

“I am no’ yer father, nor yer brother, nor yer owner, Verna. I am yer Mate.”

“You are,” I agreed.

“This Alred…he would recognize my claim if I were yer husband. Yer people barter females for favors in this way?”

‘Twas a description of marriage I’d never considered, but…

“Aye. Alred understands marriage. Three years ago there was a woman who whored for him, and when her husband showed up to fetch her home, Alred was enraged, but deferred.”

A pause.

Then, under the moon’s light, Jorak announced, “I will be yer husband.”

The preposterous thought had me pulling back, had me staring hard up at him.

“What?”

“I will write a contract. Ye will sign it. We will declare commitment to our gods and our people.”

He meant it?

“Is there another aspect to human marriage I am missing?”

My mind raced. Was there?

“Ahhh…nay. I…the priests would bless the union.”

“Do ye want this?” he snapped. “A human priest?”

In a daze, I shook my head. “Nay, I—I have never needed?—”

My words snapped off when Jorak suddenly pulled away and sank to one knee in front of me, and I could only gape. The snow wasn’t as deep here in the center of the circle, and the moon suddenly seemed to shine brighter. Here, in this spot arranged by unknown hands hundreds of generations ago, I could feel the power of the world.

“I, Jorak, the Bloodfire Keeper,” he announced, his tone serious, “declare myself to be yer husband. By the grace of Malla the Beginner, by the strength of Torvor the Strong, by the wisdom of Markep the Merciful, by the bravery of Palton the Hunter…I am yers, and ye are mine.”

I stood, gripping his hand in both of mine, staring down at him through a veil of tears.

‘Twas not the wedding ceremony I had imagined as a young girl. That had been in a church, in the spring, surrounded by flowers.

Here I stood in the midwinter darkness on the Highland moor, surrounded by stones cut a millennia ago, lit by the harsh light of the half-moon.

‘Twas perfect .

Grinning through my tears, I repeated his vows.

“I, Verna, now of the Bloodfire Clan, declare myself to be your wife. By the grace of our gods, I am yours. And you are mine.”

In a sudden movement, Jorak surged to his feet and swept me up. He buried his face in my hair as he strode toward the cottage. Toward home.

Together .