Page 6

CHAPTER SIX

Jorak

Verna had made bread. ‘Twas one of my favorite treats, but I rarely made it more than once a sennight because of how much work it required. To have fresh bread made for no reason was a delight, and it paired well with the ever-present soup and honey butter.

She’d offered her body to me, and my Kteer still wasn’t at peace with turning her down…but Verna was turning out to be a valuable houseguest for other reasons. Which was quite the admission, considering how tightly I’d always defended my solitude and order.

But seeing her excitement at practicing her letters was a joy. Her breath would catch as she studied each stroke of my stylus, then woosh out as she proudly identified the letter.

The first time she was able to sound out a word— Orc —she looked at me with such wonder and exhilaration in those spring-green eyes that I had to look away lest I say something stupid. Like how proud I was of her.

We practiced until dark, using grain spread across the desk to draw with our fingers. I’d never had another being stay in my home this long, and certainly not squish up next to me at my desk. But having her tiny body on the stool beside mine felt…right, somehow.

I suppose the point is, I was minding Verna less and less.

I might even be…beginning to like having her around.

That night, she slept in her chemise, curled away from me. But I woke in the morning to her plastered against my back once more and my cock throbbing with need.

‘Twas enough to set any male in a bad mood, so when she sat up with an abrupt gasp, I barked.

“ What ?”

Those wide green eyes turned my way as she clutched the blankets to her chest, and I hated the uncertainty I saw there.

“The storm has stopped,” she offered by way of explanation.

I cocked my head to listen. Aye, I should have noticed the cessation of wind. But truthfully, when I was here in such a small space with her, all my senses were attuned to Verna Verna Verna .

Nodding, I turned away to reach for my kilt.

“I’ll go exercise the horses. Check the stones.” Aught to get away.

My ears told me she was holding her breath as I stomped out of the cottage, hoping the frigid air would calm my cockstand, but I didn’t know why.

I slogged my way through the drifts around the circle of standing stones—not expecting to find aught amiss, and not disappointed—and managed to set some traps along the burn and just inside the copse of pines.

When I returned to the byre-cottage, warm honied porridge was waiting for me, and Verna was gripping her hands together as she watched me with wary eyes. I was halfway through breaking my fast when I realized she was worried about me sending her away now that the snow had stopped.

If I told her I was considering it, would she offer her body again?

Yesterday she said she wasn’t Mated—wasn’t married either. Then what did the contract mean she’d had in her satchel? There wasn’t a male waiting for her in her world, so she was free to take a lover here.

But I couldn’t forget her look of distance, the way she’d removed herself, as I’d touched her.

I wouldn’t accept a pity fook from a female who found me abhorrent.

But I couldn’t force her out into the winter, either. Not if she wanted to stay.

So, when the meal was done, I scooped up my bowl to place it in the wash basin, and asked, “Do ye want to go to the village now?”

Verna opened her mouth, her response immediate…but then seemed to second-guess herself. She peered at me warily.

“Do you want me to go?”

I forced myself to shrug. “’Tis a half-day’s journey by horse. It might be better to wait a few days and allow the snow to blow out of the valley so ‘tis easier.”

I knew it wasn’t my imagination when relief flashed across her face.

“A few more days with you, aye,” she agreed too quickly. “Can we work on reading again today?”

How could I deny such a request?

For years, I’d spent my time with these scrolls, these letters, and my own painstaking manuscripts. While it had never occurred to me that someone else might find interest in them, I might have considered sharing them. But now? With Verna?

I enjoyed sharing the things I loved with her. I took pride in her accomplishments, and knowing they were thanks to me.

And my Kteer didn’t know what to make of this.

I could feel it, confused and anticipatory, in my chest. It wanted me to focus on her body and the primal urge to claim take taste pleasure …but I’d spent years controlling those primitive urges, and could now take joy in something as simple as the way Verna’s eyes lit when she read another word.

“So many scrolls,” she whispered in awe, her head tipped back to study my library of cubbyholes, the position highlighting the smooth skin of her throat. “Imagine the stories they contain.” She gave a self-deprecating little laugh and glanced at me. “I suppose you do not have to imagine . You have read them all?”

I hesitated, then dropped my chin once in acknowledgement. “Some are merely contracts.” Like the ones she arrived with. “Some are letters, some epic poems. A few research treatises, which are useful.”

“May I touch one?”

It was the reverence in her tone which made me cock a brow. “Aye. They will no’ explode.”

Still, she was holding her breath as she reached up to pull out… ah . I’d forgotten to mention that one.

“This is…” She smoothed her fingers across the vellum, glanced at me, then back to the writing. “This looks like your letters, Jorak.”

I tapped my claw against the manuscript. “Because ‘ tis my handwriting. I weight down the vellum with rocks so I can do it with only one hand.”

Her eyes had gone wide. “You not only read, but you have written a book as well?” she breathed in admiration that made my Kteer crow.

I found myself shrugging, dismissing my accomplishment.

“I lead a simple life. The stones dinnae require much upkeep—they are ancient.” Truthfully, they rarely needed me, except at the full moon, when I acted as a gatekeeper. “The animals are my companions, as are these scrolls.” Of course I’d try my hand at writing.

Verna was peering down at the letters, clearly trying to make sense of the shorter words. “What is it? What are you writing?”

No reason not to tell her. “A history of my people. Ours is an oral tradition, and I thought by capturing some of it, we might share it farther than just the clan.”

“Your clan.” A flash of green under her auburn lashes told me she’d glanced my way. “The Bloodfire clan?”

Before she could ask why I’d isolated myself from them, I hurried to explain. “And our allies and enemies.”

“Who are your enemies?”

Mayhap she was thinking of her reasons for crossing through the stones.

“We’ve been feuding with the Bladesedge warriors in the south for generations. The Battleborn and the Breakshield are allies, our closest neighbors.”

Now her attention was entirely on me.

“You go to battle?” she asked, a moment before her eyes flickered to the stump of my arm and back again.

I sighed, knowing what she was asking. “Bladesedge are led by a fierce warrior, but our chief Kragorn is his equal.”

But Kragorn had been missing since late autumn’s battle, and the clan was desperate for word of his survival.

“Seven years ago in a skirmish, I allowed my control and focus to slip, and I paid the price.” I kept my tone even, my words fast, as I waved the remnant of my right arm. “I am lucky to be alive, lucky the Bloodfire healer could save me.”

Verna’s lips formed a little “oh,” but no sound emerged. Her gaze moved from the stump of my arm to my face, and back again twice.

Finally, she took a deep breath and pushed the scroll across the desk to me.

“I am glad you survived, Jorak. Will you read me your history?”

No one had ever asked that of me.

The realization, coming so quickly after baring my past to her, had me confused.

I moved the candle closer, cleared my throat, and began to read to cover how unordered my thoughts were.

We took breaks throughout the day, of course, but she was with me. And, to my surprise, I didn’t mind.

After years of being alone, ‘twas surprising how much amusement I got out of her nicknames for the brown hen who I’d always just called “the brown hen,” but now thought of as “Her Majesty,” thanks to Verna. And I appreciated being able to turn the hated chore of milking the cow over to her, although the animal’s production had slowed in recent months. And after…

She taught me to make biscuits.

‘Twas a little thing, but I watched listened, and when I wrote down her recipe, she gasped in delight and demanded I read it back to her to check.

They were delicious.

That night, I allowed myself to roll onto my other side to face her. ‘Twas more comfortable with my arm, anyhow…and sometime during the night I wrapped my arm around her and tucked her up against me.

It felt… right .

My Kteer howled at me to claim her, and ‘twas becoming more difficult to resist. She was not Mated or married to anyone in her world, and despite her distaste that first time I’d touched her, my nose occasionally caught the sweet scent of her arousal when I sat near her.

But I could not make an offer. Not if I wanted to maintain my rigid control. The last time I allowed my Kteer to break free, I nearly died.

On the third day after her arrival, Verna read an entire sentence. ‘Twas a simple sentence, but she squealed in joy and threw her arms around my neck, bouncing in excitement.

I froze, not daring to breathe.

And I felt the exact moment she realized what she’d done. But she didn’t pull away. Instead, spring-green eyes stared into mine, our noses close enough to touch, since I was seated and she stood.

“Jorak,” she whispered, and I’ll admit that my chest ached and my cock throbbed to hear my name on those lips.

Those lips I wanted to taste. Those lips I wanted to claim.

“Aye?” I managed to rasp.

She swayed closer. “Thank you.” Her breath caressed my lower lip.

I wanted her. Torvor’s Hammer, I wanted her .

But I couldn’t have her.

I shut my eyes so I wouldn’t have to see her temptation, and realized how foolish it was in a heartbeat. Because now I could feel her, scent her, even more clearly.

“Lass,” I groaned, trying to find the strength to push her away.

“Jorak,” she breathed again, and I knew her lips were an inch from mine.

Unable to resist, my hand rose to settle on her hip. I felt her shudder, smelled the sudden rush of her arousal, and I knew I was going to kiss her.

But her lips pressed against mine, and she was the one to claim me. Her mouth was small and fit perfectly between my tusks. This human tradition was a delightful one, and I leaned into her, inhaling her sweetness.

She was perfect. And she was in my hold.

Abruptly, Verna pulled away, straightening. I opened my eyes to see her chewing on her lower lip, the way I wanted to be doing.

I tried to force my throat to work, my voice to ask what was wrong, but all I could manage was a quirked brow.

Her blush was adorable, and her gaze dropped to my chin.

“Thank you,” she whispered again.

And shame slammed into me.

She was thanking me for teaching her to read. That kiss had been, to her, merely a sign of appreciation. A service rendered in thanks for my teaching.

Fook .

Swallowing, I pulled away, knowing I needed to stay away from her, for my own pride.

My intentions might have been good, but unless I insisted she travel to the village, the two of us were stuck here in my home, and I couldn’t stay away from her. I couldn’t stay away from her excitement, her enthusiasm. I couldn’t stay away from her cooking, her teasing.

And I couldn’t stay away from the way I caught her looking at me, her scent revealing confusion and interest.

That night, I slept with my arm around her, although I told myself ‘twas a bad idea. I needed to maintain my distance.

My Kteer didn’t listen.

I didn’t listen.

On the fourth day, I found a pair of plarket in my traps and carried them back by their long ears.

“We willnae have to eat The Royal Bitch tonight after all.”

Laughing at me using one of her names for the brown hen, Verna practically skipped across the room to lift the meat from my hand.

“Rabbits! Would you like me to add them to the soup, or roast them?”

My brow twitched. She cared about my preferences?

“I have some carrots and turnips we could roast beside them.”

“Good.” Her grin was almost contagious. “I’ll get them started.”

As dinner cooked, she dragged me toward the desk.

“Last night I was thinking…”

I cocked a brow when she trailed off, and she ducked her chin.

“I mean, I know I gave the scrolls to you, but…would you read them to me?” Verna snuck a peek at me. “I stole them from Alred as I escaped because I thought one might be my contract, but I do not know if they are important.”

So I was about to learn of her past? With a grunt, I reached up to pull her scrolls from their cubby.

“Most of them are contracts, aye, but I dinnae understand them.”

“Did one have my name on it?” she asked eagerly.

One did. I shuffled them about until I found the correct one then handed it to her to unroll. Then I began to read, sharing the important passages with her.

“’Tis a contract made between two men. An Alred and a Jerome, dated five years ago.”

“Aye, Jer is my brother. He owed debts to Alred.”

I kept reading. “A significant sum. Jerome, unable to pay the debt, offers his sister in trade .”

Verna leaned into my line of sight now, her scent teasing my lips as she peered at the vellum.

“That is me.” Her finger jabbed at the words. “Verna, I recognize my name.”

I swallowed, sitting back, trying to decide how to ask what needed to be asked. “This Alred…he is yer Mate?”

Snorting, Verna straightened to cross her arms. “He wishes. Nay, I told you humans marry …but he is not my husband. He always made it clear he was too good for me.”

Too good for her? I frowned at the paper.

“This is no’ a marriage contract? Yer brother selling ye to Alred in exchange for his debt?” A barbaric custom, and one I’d been wrestling with since I read the contract the first time.

But Verna was shaking her head and now tapped the scroll with her finger.

“Alred owns a tavern in town, a popular one. Not just for the ale and the food, but for the…entertainment.”

Her cheeks pinked at that, her gaze locked on my shoulder, as if she didn’t want to meet my eyes. But I didn’t understand.

“Entertainment? What does this have to do with yer brother’s debt?”

Blowing out a breath, Verna looked away, wrapping her arms around her middle as if she could hunch in on herself.

“Whoring,” she announced dully, speaking to my desk. “He keeps whores upstairs, women who have contracts with him to pay off their brother’s or father’s debts.”

Whoring. Brother’s debts .

I couldn’t help the way I inhaled sharply as I finally understood her meaning.

Her wince told me she’d heard it.

“Ye were…” I could barely choke it out. “A whore ?” I only knew the word from the stories I’d heard of the human world; our people didn’t view sex as a sin. “Ye… slept with males in exchange for gold?”

Another wince, and she hunched lower. “There was no sleeping. And I did not get to keep any of the gold.”

“Malla the Beginner ,” I breathed, as things began to make sense.

The way she’d offered her body to me, thinking that’s what I would want. The way she refused to look at me when I touched her, going someplace in her own mind to keep herself sane. The way she watched me, as if she wasn’t certain what I was thinking.

“Men used yer body,” I murmured, “and ye thought I was like that too.”

A flash of green from beneath her lashes told me she was peeking at me.

“It has been my experience that all males want a willing female. I have…” I watched her swallow, then look down once more. “Experience being willing.”

“Malla the Beginner,” I cursed again, or mayhap ‘twas a prayer. “Yer brother forced ye to…” I couldn’t even voice the words. “He…” I shook my head, unable to form a sentence in my shock.

Mayhap ‘twas all Verna needed, that pity. She reacted the same way I would; by straightening, lifting her chin, by pressing on .

“’Twas not so bad. I only had to do it for five years, and then Jerome’s debt was paid.”

“He should have protected ye,” I growled.

Her twisted smile was rueful, and didn’t reach her eyes as she shrugged.

“They signed the contract at midwinter, which is approaching. I had no plans for the future, other than getting away. And then, the night afore the full moon, Alred told me my contract had been extended by two years.”

I slammed my palm onto the desk and pushed myself to my feet, unable to remain sitting there any longer.

“That bastard !”

“But I knew ‘twas a lie,” she hurried to explain. “Jerome died last year, the farm passing to our other brother. He had no opportunity to grow his debt to Alred.”

I could barely focus on her words. Instead, I paced, outraged on her behalf. My Kteer howled in my chest, urging me to slash punish kill feast , and I wasn’t so certain I should keep tamping it down. Her brother might be dead, but Alred needed to be punished.

“So when Torvolk showed up and bought Isadora at that horrible auction, I knew I could take advantage of Alred’s distraction. Twenty pieces of gold would be enough to distract anyone.”

Verna was watching me pace now, her eyes worried. “I meant to only snatch my contract afore I ran, but when I found Alred had so many scrolls, I could not tell which one was mine.”

I spun on her. “ Yers . Ye mean…” I pointed a claw at the pile of scrolls. “The rest of those are contracts of other females? Who Alred believes he owns, and can force to whore for him?”

Verna’s nod was hesitant, her gaze wary. “Most of them are dead—disease or hunger. Right now, there are three other whores, besides me?—”

Her words cut off in a squeak as I lunged forward, pinning her against the desk with my bulk. I took her small chin in my hand and forced her head back as gently as I could, until she was staring up into my eyes, her own bright with fear.

“Ye are nae whore, Verna,” I stated, as clearly as I could, trying not to squeeze her delicate cheeks. “Ye are no’ his. Ye are no’ yer brother’s to barter away. Ye are yer own person.”

Her gaze skittered across my face, as if searching for truth, and I held her. I wanted to do more. I wanted to wipe away her past, her horror. I wanted to give her good memories.

“Verna, ye have worth .”

Slowly, her eyes widened. Her inhalation told me she was finally understanding what I meant, even if I didn’t.

“Jorak,” she whispered, although ‘twas muffled by my hand on her chin.

I should step back. Should give her space. Should pity the disgust she’d been through and survived by not forcing my touch on her.

I didn’t.

‘Twas no’ ye she shied away from when ye touched her. ‘Twas her past .

And I could change that.

“In the last five years, have ye enjoyed yerself, Verna?” I growled. “Have ye learned to find pleasure in a male’s touch?”

Slowly, despite my hold on her, she held my gaze and shook her head.

I knew what I needed to do. What my Kteer needed me to do. For her.

I released her and stepped back.

“I want to touch ye. Now.”