Page 107 of Halfling
He bared his fangs in a vicious smile, and it was the last thing Sorcha saw before her vision went white with searing pleasure.
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It took a handful of days, but Orek was able to slowly put his hurts away, one by one. The shock and pain of seeing his mother again took time and consideration, but slowly, it ebbed into a bittersweetness easier to swallow.
Sorcha found all manner of ways to kiss and flirt with him. After that day, he appreciated being drawn out of his sullen mind. His chest ached every time she reminded him,“What happened to her was awful—but it wasn’t your fault.”And honestly, he relished that, when he said they never got her socks and apples, Sorcha had frowned and replied,“I’ll live. If we go back there, I can’t promise not to smack her myself.”
So Orek let his mate pull him out of his past and the dark memories that lingered. With a little time, he was able to look at everything as if browsing through wares and picking up a bauble to inspect. The memories and pain were all tangible in his mind, but he could set them down and leave them for a while at least, could be glad his mother found something good for herself while not becoming overwhelmed with that old grief of being left behind.
It certainly helped that every night since Briggán, Sorcha laid him down in the furs and had her way with him. The possessive, almost aggressive way she showered him with attention and care fed something ravenous inside him, and he was always hungry for more.
It felt as though he was finally getting his feet under him again when, a few hours into their morning trek, Orek noticed the beginnings of a pensive frown gathering along Sorcha’s brow.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, nostrils flaring to scent for danger as he pulled her into his side.
Sorcha took a moment to reply, her eyes tracing the landscape around them.
“I recognize this place. I’ve been here before.” She peered up at him with that troubled little frown. “We aren’t far from Granach. Another two days, maybe less if we hurried.”
The bottom fell away from Orek’s stomach, panic rising to take its place.
Sorcha said nothing more, and they carried on as if she hadn’t just announced that Orek’s time was almost up.
She was subdued that afternoon, her chatter gone. She didn’t dart off the trail to look at something interesting, instead keeping quietly to his side.
And the quieter she was, the deeper Orek fell into despair.
That night, a fist of terror gripped him by the throat. He could barely sleep, heart thumping and blood running fast, even though Sorcha was no less amorous than she’d been before. She fell easily to sleep beside him, nose nuzzling at his chest, sated and spent.
Orek held her all night, listening to her steady breathing and running circles in his mind.
Fates, he’d lostdaysbeing in his own head. He’d indulged in his mate’s care, thinking that she wouldn’t do this for a male she didn’t care for, that there was hope, that he hadtime.
When they rose the next morning, Sorcha was all easy smiles and warm kisses, but Orek saw the distance in her eyes. As the day wore on, those smiles seemed evermore forced. Though she held his hand and kissed him often, he could tell her mind wasn’t there with him. Already she thought of her home, her family.
The end had come and Orek wasn’t ready.
He didn’t know what to say or do, his desperation clogging his throat and making words impossible.
Don’t leave me, too.
But she said nothing, and he didn’t know what to say to that.
It was late afternoon, clouds gathering along the horizon to make the sky even darker, when they came across a tall outcropping of rocks. Overgrown with moss, the dark stone stood like a gateway, a harbinger of the end.
Sorcha stopped when she saw it. “I used to play here sometimes, with Connor and Niall,” she spoke of her two oldest brothers. Her distant gaze swung northward, peering into the gathering gloam as if she could already see her home. “It’s only another few hours.”
She stood beside him in silence, a breeze catching and teasing at her curls.
Orek held perfectly still, every muscle tensed for whatever she said next.
Take her. Grab her and run. Far away. Find a den and keep her.
The mate-bond thrashed inside him, howling at the idea of giving up his mate. He could throw her over his shoulder and run, find them somewhere warm and dry to buy himself a little time, to show her, to convince her, toclaimher.
Nobody will care for her, protect her, love her like I can.
His shoulders bunched, and it wasn’t until she looked up at him that he realized his arm had gone around her, intending to toss her over his shoulder.
