Page 139 of Halfling
I’ll do better,she promised.I can do better.
Orek watched his mate walk back to the house from one of the stall windows. The words she’d exchanged with her father still rang in his ears and knotted his guts with more worries.
At first, Orek had thought to reveal himself from where he worked three stalls down, to quietly encourage her father to move along from picking at her when she clearly had much to do and much on her mind.
But then…
He didn’t like that he agreed with Ciaran—at least on some counts. His mate needed out from under the burden of her responsibilities.
While it was clear how much she loved her home and her family, it was just as clear that she wouldn’t hand over those responsibilities. She believed them to define her role in the family, and he hated that she couldn’t see how much more she meant to everyone. Her family came to her for everything, yes, but for much more than simply work. They needed her.
But his mate wasn’t an ever-replenishing spring. Her spirits would inevitably run dry, likely before she ever knew it.
Orek loathed the idea of watching Sorcha let herself be used up, but that familiar helplessness clutched at his throat. He didn’t know how to tell her these things.
And even if he did, he wasn’t sure whether she’d listen.
He wasn’t surprised she reacted as she did to her father’s pushing. His mate was just as proud and stubborn as Sir Ciaran, her loyalty to her family fierce and unshakable. She would never take the initiative her father spoke of, not when, to her, it meant leaving,betrayingthe family. Even if just out of spite and stubbornness, she wouldn’t.
And that left Orek with the same question and still no answer on how to help his mate.
Every day it grew harder to hold his tongue. Every day he watched her exhaustion grow.
It was as if he watched her slowly drown but refused to reach out a hand for help. Her family loved her but didn’t see it. This was how Sorcha had always been, and if it made their lives easier, if Sorcha never complained or spoke up, how were they ever to know?
He told himself that several times a day, but it didn’t assuage the resentment festering inside.
He knew too that the time they took to be together was also a draw on Sorcha. He understood the hypocrisy of his greediness, that Sorcha standing up to her family would mean more time not just for herself but for him as well. Orek didn’t fool himself that his reasons weren’t somewhat selfish.
It mollified him a little that their time together was something Sorcha enjoyed. At least then he could care for her, pleasure her. If that was to be his only role here, he could be content. Yet he couldn’t help a nagging worry that it wouldn’t be enough. That she needed more. He just didn’t know what or how to give it.
Orek finished mucking the goat stalls and replaced everything in its spot before heading for the house. Perhaps he could persuade his mate upstairs and worship her a little. She nearly melted whenever he rubbed her shoulders—that tightening knot of hers had become his mortal enemy.
He’d hoped, with winter settling across the landscape and the family driven indoors, Sorcha might finally rest. But just yesterday she’d gone over her plans for her annual house cleaning as the family ate breakfast. The siblings groaned and fussed as Sorcha planned, her list of tasks growing ever longer.
It made him want to pin her down with his bigger body and make her stay somewhere long enough to at least nap.
Holding his mate down, letting her bear his weight, made his cock kick against his thigh.
Orek groaned and came to a stop in the yard. The last thing he needed was to walk into that overcrowded, loud house with his cock tenting his braies and—
A high scream rent the air.
Orek jerked toward the sound, then he was moving through the yard in long, quick strides.
He’d barely made it to the west meadow, where the forest encroached on the family lands, when he saw little Keeley come racing through the trees.
He quickened his steps, hurrying to meet her.
Wailing, Keeley threw herself into his arms and let him hoist her high on his chest. She squeezed her arms as far as they could go around his neck and pressed her tear-soaked, mottled face into his.
“What’s the matter, little one?” he soothed, eyes darting through the trees.
There—a shadow, like the one before, there but gone.
He clutched Keeley tighter.
Through sobs, Keeley told him, “B-big scary thing—out by the rocks. It was dark and tall and and and it wanted toeat me!” She dissolved into more tears, her words lost to hiccupping sobs as she clung to him.
