Page 54 of Lorran
As the sun set, Saavi lit the flames. In a flat, mechanical voice she said, “He died honorably, protecting his mate and son.”
Fire sparked against encroaching darkness. She stood stiffly, and her face remained an expressionless mask, giving no hint of distress or grief.
Ulrik’s spirit returned to the elders.
They stood on the sand until the fire burned down to embers. The air cooled. Saavi wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and moved toward the facility, her son following.
“We must speak,” Lorran said, his heels kicking up sand as he followed her.
“No. I have just burned my mate. It can wait.” She did not pause but continued on through the sand, yanking on her son’s hand. Mikah looked as if he had something to say but remained silent.
“Yes. Tomorrow,” Lorran said as the female walked away.
Mylomon had left; to do what, Lorran had no idea. Caldar stood near a rocky cluster, the waves gently beating against the stones.
“One moment.” The male motioned for Lorran to join him and stepped to the side, allowing room for both of them to stand on the stones.
Even in the darkness, Lorran could see tidepools. He made a mental note to check in the morning for edible creatures. He wanted to provide more than ration packets for his mate.
Caldar smirked, as if he could sense Lorran’s plans. “The female?”
“My mate,” Lorran said.
“Interesting, yet she is unclaimed.” Caldar stroked his chin, like he just had an ingenious thought.
“My. Mate,” Lorran repeated, menace dripping in every word. “Do not speak to my mate. Do not think of her. Do not look at her.”
“Young males. So much chest thumping and ‘my mate’ nonsense. Perhaps the female would like a more experienced mate.”
Lorran moved swiftly, drawing his blade and pressing it to the base of the male’s right horn. Caldar’s eyes went wide in what he had to assume was surprise.
Arrogant male.
“Do not speak to my mate. Do not touch my mate,” he warned.
“Or you will have my horn?” Caldar’s voice remained flat and toneless, almost as bored by Lorran’s display.
This close, their bodies in proximity, Lorran felt the unexpected strength in the older male’s form. Interesting. Calder had moved as if he suffered an injury. Clearly an act.
Lorran skimmed the sharp edge of the blade up the horn, removing a thin layer of keratin. He wondered if the male’s horns were truly gray or if he had rubbed a pigment in, to give the impression of an aging and helpless male.
“That is the general concept,” Lorran said. He stared hard at the male, lips curled back in a snarl. “Do not test me. Next time, I will not be so polite.”
Chapter 11
Lorran
“Are pants optional now? I mean, I’m not complaining. Please, continue.”
Skin bare, he worked this way through the warrior’s forms. The exercise brought a peaceful meditative state to his mind and prepared his body for the day. The lack of clothing was down to habit. He slept nude. He did his morning routine nude.
That his mate appreciated the view was a bonus.
Wyn stood in the patio doorway, a steaming mug cradled in her hand. She slouched against the frame, the excess fabric of his shirt slipping down her shoulders. Bathed in sunlight, her coppery skin glowed.
His hungry eyes followed the voluptuous lines of her legs from the ground until her thighs disappeared under the shirt.
He enjoyed the sight of her wearing his shirt and nothing else. Tattoos etched into his skin flared to life. Desire crawled up from his wrists, lighting the black to a silvery glow.
