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CHAPTER EIGHT

Jorak

‘Twas easier to keep my mind on mundane tasks such as ensuring the biscuits didn’t burn in the pan. If I didn’t, if I allowed my gaze to stray toward the female sleeping in my bed…

Growling softly to myself, I forced my attention to the coals and the roasting plarket .

Dinnae think of her. Dinnae think of the way she gasped yer name as she came on yer tongue. Dinnae think of the wonder in her eyes when she looked at ye after .

When I realized my cock was still rock-hard, I knew I’d done a shite job of not thinking .

The meal was soon ready and Verna was still asleep. Reluctant to wake her, I munched on one of the biscuits as I pulled on my heavy boots and cloak, checked on her once more, then headed to the byre. The animals didn’t need my constant attention, but with such a tempting female in my bed, I couldn’t afford to linger in the cottage.

My cock was still hard, and my Kteer was still raging, when I finished my chores.

Shaking my head at my foolishness, I pushed my way out into the cold afternoon to patrol the stones. Which also didn’t need me.

I’d built a place—a space—for myself here which I could navigate. I could control. But…how useful was I, really? I spent my days hunched over my books and scrolls, occasionally ensuring my clan’s travel remained opened. But except for two days of the month when I needed to patrol the pathway, I was virtually useless.

Wasn’t I?

They called me the Keeper, but I was realizing I kept little.

Ye have Verna .

Did I?

In the last few days, I’d had a fierce need to protect her, to care for her. To take care of her, which was something I’d never experienced. I’d never thought to have another person in my carefully ordered space, and while she could be chaotic, she was also…helpful. Nice . She was nice to have around.

Aye, that was why I’d wanted to make her feel good.

I reached the copse of trees where I’d set my snares. There was naught for me to do here, either. I planted my hand on my hip and tipped my head back to stare up at the tall pines, inhaling deeply of their scent.

I might not be useful, but I liked it here. I liked the solitude. I liked the order.

Verna wouldnae like it .

She was brightness and laughter and energy. She needed to be in the village.

I knew I would have to take her there—take her there and return to my quiet order…I wondered if I’d be lonely.

Aye, of course I’d be lonely! After having her in my home, ‘twould seem empty without her. I would miss hearing her humming under her breath, the scent of her in the air. The scent of her arousal .

Gods below, how could I forget that scent once I’d tasted it? Once I’d felt her spend on my tongue?

Despite the cold, my cock was still rigid.

Thinking of Verna and her body’s response to me, my hand crept toward the front of my kilt. Aye, I needed this. I needed a release.

The cold air was a shock as I lifted my kilt, but even that did naught to diminish my hardness. My Kteer howled for release, and so I stroked myself.

I stroked myself, my palm sliding over my ridges, each inch sensitized and desperate. ‘Twas not the touch I needed, but ‘twould have to do.

I stroked myself, my legs braced, my head thrown back, imagining ‘twas Verna’s hand on me, her mouth . Her sweet, warm cunny.

I stroked myself, my back to my cottage, thinking about the female curled up in my bed so trustingly. Thinking of her body, those tits , and how she tasted. Thinking of the soft way she’d gasped in pleasure at my touch. Thinking of all the things I wanted to do to her, the different ways I wanted to bring her ecstasy.

Aye ! My Kteer urged me on. Remember the way she tasted. Remember the way ye felt when ye made her climax! Remember the way yer Mate called for ye ? —

I gasped as I came, suddenly and explosively, my cock spurting out a thick rope of pale green spend across the snow. My nose wrinkled at the spicy-sweet scent, but I was too dazed to do more than just stroke my palm lazily along my cock.

Mate ?

Where had that thought come from?

Verna wasn’t my Mate. She was just…a female who’d needed my help. A female I could help.

After seven years of being useless, ‘twas nice to be needed.

She wasn’t my Mate. I wasn’t worthy of having a Mate.

I resisted the urge to scrub my hand over my face as I blew out a frustrated breath, then scooped up some clean snow to clean it instead.

“Gods below,” I murmured, hating this knot in my chest.

Spilling my seed had eased some of my tension, but by the time I returned to the byre-cottage, I was feeling itchy and hot all over again. I needed something, and I wasn’t sure what.

The meat was cooling, and my stomach rumbled. Giving in to the inevitable, I crossed to the bed. I was just going to call her name, nudge the mattress a bit. But seeing her sleeping so peacefully, her brow smooth and her lips plump…

I found myself sitting beside her, my fingers hovering over her cheek.

“Verna,” I whispered. Then, a little louder, “Lass, wake up.”

Her eyes opened swiftly, and when she saw me above her, she sucked in a startled breath. I should move back, give her space. But between one heartbeat and the next, her expression turned to genuine joy . A soft sort of joy, a smile between two people who shared experiences.

“Hello,” she whispered.

The sun was low in the west, and ‘twould be full dark soon, these midwinter nights lasted ages. But she had only just woken and looked satiated and well-rested.

Unable to stop myself, I dropped my fingers to her cheek.

“Did ye sleep well?”

Her smile turned rueful. “I cannot remember the last time I napped, unless I was ill.”

“Then ‘tis time ye did. Yer body needed it.”

Just thinking about what else her body had needed had my blood heating. Mayhap she was thinking the same thing, because I felt her shift, smelled the faint perfume of her arousal.

“I…” Her gaze dropped to my chin. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Before… No one has ever…”

My fingers found her chin, and I tipped her head back on the pillow to meet my gaze.

“Nae male has ever tasted ye, dkaar ?” I murmured, the endearment slipping out again. “Nae male has ever licked ye until ye came?”

Just the memory had my cock stirring again. I was not some young buck, insatiable and indefatigable. The fact the fooking thing was hardening again, so soon after release, should be impossible.

Verna’s cheeks and throat were pink with her blush, and that sweet scent of her had strengthened. But she held my gaze when she licked her lips nervously and confessed, “No man has ever made me…come.”

Then, as if she’d exhausted her boldness, her gaze flicked to my ear. “No man has ever cared enough to give me pleasure,” she whispered.

And deep in my chest, my Kteer crowed. I’d done that for her! I’d been her first!

My fingers tightened on her chin, and I wanted to lower my mouth to hers. I wanted to kiss her, claim her, to give her pleasure . Because I did care.

But I didn’t. Because she wasn’t going to stay here with me, she was going to the village. And when she went, she would carry the memory of one male who had cared enough about her pleasure to ensure she received it.

And that pride? That would be enough to carry me through the rest of the long winter months, alone in my cottage.

So I sat back, pulling my hand away from her skin, although ‘twas the most difficult thing I’d done.

“The meal is ready.”

Verna’s lovely eyes widened, snapping back to mine as she struggled to push herself up on her elbows.

“The rabbits! I was roasting?—”

“Hush, woman.” I hid my frustration and dread by standing and turning away so she wouldn’t see my tented kilt. “I am taking care of ye today, remember? The meat is prepared. Come eat.”

Aye. She would be gone soon enough , but I would care for her while I was able.

Verna

The meal was truly delicious, and Jorak poured us both a measure of uisce beatha , so I was feeling all sorts of cozy. The sun had long since disappeared, but the byre-cottage was delightful; the warmth, the smell of baked spiced apples, the gentle lethargy in my limbs.

So I smiled across the table hopefully. “Would ye read to me again?”

His brow twitched. “The scrolls ye stole?” He didn’t appear to be nearly as relaxed as I was, judging by his barely controlled energy. “I read enough of them.”

Oh. My chin rose, unable to miss the challenge.

“But I have not.” When he glared mulishly at his mug, I sighed and put mine down. “Look, Jorak, I am sorry I surprised you earlier with the news that I am a whore.”

“ Were a whore,” he barked, not looking up.

Aye, I suppose, if I was safe here in the orcs’ world—safe with him—then I didn’t need to whore any longer. I was strong and capable and could find better work. Work that my brother didn’t force me to do.

I sighed, the lethargy gone, and leaned forward to plunk my mug on the table.

“ W as a whore,” I agreed. “And I do not regret telling you, just so you are aware. Your response was…” I was blushing, wasn’t I?

Finally he met my eyes, his brow raised in challenge again. “Was what?”

Fine, I would tell him. “ Quite satisfactory. I have never…” I shook my head, knowing I’d told him that already. “It was very different from what I know. The thought of allowing me to use my body for two more years…”

“Yer contract was for four years.”

My gaze slammed into his. “ What ?”

“The contract with yer name on it. It stated the debt would be absolved after ye ‘worked’ for Alred for four years.”

I could hear the disgust in his voice, but could only shake my head, wide-eyed. That bastard . Alred had lied to me about adding an extra two years to my contract, but it had never occurred to me he’d already lied to me.

“He kept me there an extra year already,” I whispered, angry gaze locked on the hearth, “because I was too stupid to know better.”

“No’ stupid,” Jorak correctly quietly. “Just unlearned. Ye’re learning now, so nae one will be able to take advantage of ye again.”

He was right. I planted my palms on the table as the realization swept through me. He was right . By teaching me to read, Jorak was giving me the assurance that I would never again be at someone else’s mercy.

‘Twas a powerful bit of knowledge.

“I want to know everything,” I demanded. “Teach me.”

After a long moment of studying me, he finally nodded.

“Aye.”

‘Twas all he said. ‘Twas enough.

I took a deep breath. “And I want to start with the other contracts. The women I… The other whores who worked for Alred. Women like Isadora. I want to know if he’s been cheating them too.”

Heaving a sigh, Jorak pushed himself away from the table.

“Aye,” he growled again. ‘Twas enough.

The candle was burning low by the time we found the first discrepancy. Greta had been whoring for Alred for three years now, and her contract only stipulated eighteen months. My stomach clenched, thinking of what this would mean for her.

And poor Mabel, who died last year struggling to bring a bastard into the world? Her contract had ended six months before. The horror she’d endured because of one man’s greed…

I couldn’t comprehend.

“He is a monster,” I whispered, staring down at the letters through a veil of unshed tears.

“He is.” Jorak’s claw tapped at Mabel’s contract. “These females…they were betrayed by their men?”

I sniffed, trying to remember. “Greta’s husband sold her to Alred, saying she was barren and thus worthless. Being barren is a fine quality for a whore, though.” Only a careful schedule of teas and cleaning routines had kept me safe and disease-free all this time.

“Mabel…I cannot remember. I believe she was alone, but I remember her speaking of a long-ago suitor who had abandoned her because her family had no money.”

“Alone,” he spat. “Despicable. These males are meant to protect their Mates.”

Sadly, I covered his hand with mine. “In our world, the best a female can hope for is a husband who will commit to her and not abandon her and her children when someone better comes along.”

I could feel the anger roiling off him. “A male who would abandon his kitlings and Mate— wife is no male at all, but a coward. A weakling.”

In an effort to calm him, I twined my fingers through his.

“You are right,” I whispered, hating my world even more. “I am glad I am safe from that now.”

“I am glad too,” he grunted, squeezing my fingers, and although my heart hurt for Mabel and Greta and the others, I reveled in the knowledge I had escaped that pain.

I had a future here. Thanks to Jorak.

I smiled. “Thank you. For saving me from that. Keeping me safe.”

“Aye.” He wasn’t looking at me. “Ye are safe here. The village is…”

When he trailed off and shook his head, I wondered what he’d been planning on saying. Did he want me to go to the village?

Did he want me gone?

I didn’t want to leave.

For so long, I’d been focused on finding safety. I thought that was the village, once Jorak had told me of it, and the women who lived there. But then I’d realized how he cared for me, and how much I liked that. I didn’t want to leave him.

But if that’s what he wanted…

I squeezed his hand again and took a deep breath, trying to change the subject.

“Is that all the contracts? I do not ever want to return, but I will feel guilty if I do not find a way to send word to Greta and the others at Alred’s tavern.”

“The veil is only open for an hour each full moon.” Jorak still wasn’t looking at me. “In three weeks, a sennight after Midwinter’s Festival, ‘twill open again.”

Then I was safe for another three weeks. I stifled my sigh of relief, knowing I was glad I didn’t have to make the decision to be brave until then.

“Midwinter Festival? How do you celebrate?”

Finally he glanced at me, although there was confusion in his eyes. “I dinnae celebrate. I am here.” Alone . The word was unsaid, but unnecessary.

“The clan then?” I prompted with a smile. “How do they celebrate?”

His gaze turned distant, as if he was remembering something from long ago.

“Everyone allows their fires to go out. Then a big bonfire is lit in the middle of the village and the light is brought into our—their homes. Food. Dancing.”

It sounded… “Wonderful,” I whispered. “Humans have a midwinter celebration, but ‘tis a solemn, religious ceremony. We do burn a Yule log, but yours sounds more fun.”

His lips twitched as he glanced back at me. “Aye, ‘tis. Ye’ll enjoy it.”

So he did want me to be in the village by then?

In an effort to distract myself, I reached for the remaining scroll.

“You have not read me this one.”

He gently pulled his hand from mine and flicked his fingers dismissively as he began to organize the rest. “Tis no’ a contract for work, like the rest.”

Frowning, I peered at the letters, trying to make sense of them. “What is it, then?” There were signatures, but I didn’t recognize them.

“A deed of property. Land and a building.” His claw tapped two places. “Dated long ago. It says that the owner is a Lars Weaver.”

Why would Alred have such a deed? I found what I thought was the name Lars , and traced the signature with my fingers.

“Lars Weaver. Do you know anyone by that name?” I couldn’t recall any weavers in the village, although there was a tailor.

“Nay, I…” He began, but when he trailed off, I glanced up to see him frowning into the distance. Suddenly, he lunged forward and pulled a book from one of the cubbies—the history of his clan he’d been working on.

Muttering to himself, he flipped it open, his finger dragging down the page. I watched in fascination, wondering at his arcane actions. Finally, he tapped the page and blew out a breath.

“Erlena Weaver, only child of Lars and Betta, stolen by and then Mated to Bartolk,” he read. “Begat…” He trailed off and shook his head. “She had three sons, and a daughter too, and is now the grandmother or great-grandmother to half of Bloodfire Village. We call her Nan.”

My brows had risen in surprise that he’d been able to find Lars Weaver’s daughter, and she lived here in the orcs’ world.

“She Mated an orc male?” I peeked over his shoulder, and although I recognized his precise handwriting, couldn’t see what he read. “Was she happy?”

“Was?” Jorak scoffed. “She’s a cheerful auld meddler, intent on getting her grandsons Mated and happy.”

Well that didn’t sound too horrible, and I was pleased she was still alive. But there was something dismissive about the way he’d said it… I gasped as I understood. “She is your grandmother?”

Without looking at me, Jorak scowled and slammed the book shut.

“Bartolk was my grandfather’s brother. She is merely my great-aunt.”

I nudged his shoulder with a playful scoff. “Nan does not sound like a mere anyone, Jorak. I take it she has spent some time meddling in your life, and you do not like it?”

He grunted noncommittedly, and I knew I was right.

“When I return to the village for supplies, I’ll bring her this deed.” He pulled it from under my hand. “’Tis no’ needed any longer, but she can decide what to do with the property.”

Oh, aye, the property. “What is the deed for?” I asked before he could roll it away.

He paused, then his eyes scanned the scroll. “A large building, two stories. On the southwest corner of the main intersection, it says here.”

My heart began to pound.

Jorak continued to read. “It has two sets of shuttered windows, a kitchen in the rear, and a double?—”

“A double counter,” I finished in a whisper, certain my voice betrayed my horror.

“Aye. Suitable for tavern use , it says.”

And that’s exactly what it had become. I swallowed, or tried to. My throat had closed off in terror, as I understood what this deed meant. Understood what Nan’s ownership of it meant.

“Hell,” I managed to rasp.

Jorak tipped his head to glance at me, but his mild curiosity changed to concern in a blink. “Verna?” He dropped the scroll to grab my shoulder. “What is it?”

But I couldn’t answer.

Could barely understand myself.

Because the admission was too painful. So soon after realizing how happy I was here with him, how lucky I was to be safe at last…

Now I knew the truth.

I wasn’t safe, and never would be.