Page 144 of Halfling
Because of him.
The beast inside shivered with rage and shame.
There’s a way. It can still be stopped.
He looked upon the mutilated tracker without seeing, mind gone muddy as it tried to stumble through an idea.
He hated it, hated what he knew he had to do.
But he hated himself more for what he’d done.
Still shaking, mouth slick with threatening sick, Orek approached what had once been Silas and began his bloody work.
It was late afternoon by the time he finished. What was left of the body was buried, if hastily, away from the home for predators to pick over.
He couldn’t return to his mate covered in gore. She would be horrified. She would be scared. She would ask questions. So as the afternoon waned, Orek sloshed into the lake Sorcha had told him many stories of, summers spent splashing and swimming. The water ran red with blood as he scrubbed the last of Silas from his body.
The lake was frigid, but Orek felt nothing under the layer of ice encasing him. The numbness left him mindless but resolved—everything he needed to be to leave his mate behind.
33
Sorcha pretended to read as Connor snored softly across the parlor from her. The hour was late, and the rest of the family had long ago made the trek upstairs to bed. Everyone had assured her everything was all right—he’s a trained tracker, he’ll be fineandhe can take care of himself.
She knew all that, of course—knew it better than anyone. That didn’t stop her worrying, though, nor the painful shard of anxiety lodged in her chest.
Orek had yet to return even though it was well past dinner. The house had gone quiet, the only noise now from the fire she’d stoked to keep warm. Hunkered under a blanket in the front parlor, Sorcha was determined to wait for her halfling—and she wasn’t sure if she’d throw herself at him when he returned or box his ears.
Connor had decided to wait with her, and she was secretly grateful for the company, even if he’d fallen asleep an hour ago. Watching her brother gave her something to do, as she was far too frantic to truly read.
That bottomless pit of worry kept her awake far beyond when she’d usually be abed and was why, when the doorknobsnickedopen, she was already up, hurrying to the front door.
Orek was just sliding into the house, silently shutting the door behind him, when she flung herself at him. He caught her with a softoomph,his arms going around her as he shuddered.
Sorcha leaned back just enough to hold his face in her hands, glaring, before pulling him down for a fierce kiss. “Where have you been?” she growled between frantic presses of her lips. “I was so worried! Orek—”
Rather than answer, he set her on her feet, took her hand, and led her toward the stairs.
She waved at a bleary-eyed Connor, who’d lifted his head at the sound of Orek’s return. He returned the wave and slumped back into the settee, content where he was.
She waited just long enough for the door to shut to her cold, dark room before her questions boiled over. “What happened? Did you find something? And why…why are you wet?” She watched him anxiously, fists clenching and releasing, as he quietly built a small fire in the hearth.
When it was crackling away, she could see better that he was no longer in his leathers, down to just shirt, braies, and boots. All of it felt slightly damp under her hands, and faint rings had been left around the collar, as if something had stained it and not fully washed away.
He reached for her, but she got in close, pulling his shirt over his head.
Sorcha sucked in a shocked breath. Two wicked tracks slashed messily across his upper chest, just below his throat.
“Orek…” Her fingers trembled tracing just beneath the lower cut. “What—”
He covered her hands with his, drawing them down to hold over his drumming heartbeat.
“I already cleaned it.”
Sorcha’s gaze snapped up to his, confusion swirling around her.
Why is he so calm? Why is he looking at me like that?
“You found something?” The bottom fell out of her stomach, a sucking dread making her breathing go quick and shallow.
