Page 124 of Halfling
“Always,” he promised.
He sat beside Sorcha at the table again, everyone finding the same place as the night before. Another steaming meal was laid before them, and everyone tucked in heartily. It was easier to get his fill this time, fewer questions lobbied as they ate.
They were being saved for later, though.
When the mother and aunt stood, drawing away the youngest girls to help with the dishes, the second-eldest brother, Niall, rested his elbows on the table and leaned forward, eyes glittering with mischief.
Sorcha tensed beside him, as if anticipating whatever was about to come.
“So, Orek, tell us. Is it true you’re bedding our sister?”
Niall smiled wide with the impertinent question, laughing at his own joke even when Connor elbowed him in the ribs. Maeve laughed too, and the father looked on with mild amusement.
Orek gritted his fangs, not liking this question or the laughing that came with it. This didn’t feel like the gentle teasing Sorcha did, and Orek had been made fun of plenty of times in the clan to know when it was at his expense. He could handle it, hardened by now to the nastiness of others, but seeing it aimed at his mate had the beast inside him stirring. He laid his hand on Sorcha’s thigh under the table, needing the connection.
“He must be,” laughed Maeve. “Why else would he put up with her nagging?”
Niall snorted a laugh again and received another elbow to his side, harder this time. Connor glared at both of them. “Don’t be a brat,” he chided Maeve.
Maeve sneered at her eldest brother.
Orek’s ears rang, and he clenched every muscle taut to keep the rage boiling inside him down. This was her family; how they interacted was an intricate dance he’d only just begun to learn. Didn’t stop his jaw from groaning with how hard he gritted his fangs to his gums.
They insult my mate.
Sorcha leaned forward slowly, putting her elbows on the table similarly to how Niall had. She stared down her sister until the younger woman blushed and dropped her gaze. “I’ve faced down orcs and slavers—your little claws don’t hurt me, Maeve Brádaigh.”
She turned her gaze slowly to Niall, who gulped. The viciousness in Orekloved it.
“To answer your question, yes, he’s bedding me. Has been for a while. We’re together, Niall. Grow up.”
And with that, she smacked her palms on the table and pushed to standing, glaring at her siblings and father. She offered Orek her hand, but before he could stand to join her, Ciaran interjected.
“Sorcha, hold on now. We need to discuss your capture and journey home.”
“Can’t it wait?” she said through stiff lips.
“No, it can’t. We need to do this while it’s still fresh.” He cleared his throat. “That’s enough teasing for one night. Don’t bother your sister anymore.”
Maeve’s cheeks went pink. “Papa, we were just—”
Ciaran cut a hand through the air, ending her protests. “Your sister is newly home and doesn’t need the sniping. Now, we have important things to discuss, so off with you. You too, Calum. Take your pie in the kitchen and off to bed.”
Tears glistened in Maeve’s eyes as she stormed from the room. Calum looked between everyone remaining, bobbed his head, and wished them good night.
“Oh,” he said, turning on his heel before he left, “Orek, would you want to go to the lake again tomorrow?”
“I would like that,” he said, making the boy smile.
“When we get back,” said Ciaran. “We ride for Dundúran in the morning to see Darrow.”
Sorcha settled back in her seat with a sigh as her father drew out the map she’d gotten in Birrin. Connor and Niall, as knights, remained as Sorcha explained again what she knew of the route the slavers had taken south.
“Nothing’s been seen of them since,” grumbled Ciaran. “No reports came in from surrounding towns. They showed up here, took you, and vanished.”
“And why take you?” asked Niall. He received another elbow to the ribs for that. “Ow! What I mean is—you’re a trained rider, on a horse, in daylight. You aren’t an easy mark. So why go for you at all?”
“You think she was targeted?” Ciaran asked.
