Chapter 7

Chapter

Seven

Owen is long gone by the time I make it out of the pantry.

It’s also high time to get some work done, so I find Jasmine in the great hall and work with her and the kitchen staff on the meals for the following fortnight, focusing on the items in our larders that will go off the fastest. I try to stay as present as possible through discussions of cabbage fermentation and ideas about drying some of the meat our hunters have brought in, but I can tell Jasmine has noticed my distracted state.

As soon as we’re done for the day, I excuse myself, and even though dinner is less than an hour from now, I walk away from the mouthwatering scents of roasting meat. I don’t think I could eat a bite. This day has been too taxing for me, not that I did anything strenuous. But the effort required to stay away from Owen is weighing on me, and I simply want to rest, to crawl under the covers and disappear for the rest of the night.

My room is dark when I enter, and I don’t bother lighting the lanterns. I see well enough in the gloom, so I undress, leaving the pretty woolen dress draped over a chair. I unpin my braid from the top of my head, comb out my hair, and groan in relief as I dig my fingertips into my scalp for a slow massage. The cold water running into the trough in my privy niche has me shivering when I wash, so I hurry through the motions, then put on my most comfortable, well-worn nightgown and thick woolen socks.

With a sigh of relief, I climb into my bed and snuggle under the soft blankets, ones I asked Ozork to buy in Ultrup for me, beautiful silken things embroidered with flowers. They were expensive and probably unnecessary, but I’d saved up for them from my steward’s wages and decided to treat myself.

Now they prove to be worth every silver piece I paid for them. I draw one end over my head, tuck my feet in at the bottom, and close my eyes.

I must fall asleep because I jerk awake sometime later. There’d been a noise—or did I dream it?

Then it comes again, a knock at my door.

“Just a moment,” I croak.

I stumble from the bed, my legs tangling in all those blankets, and feel in the dark for the door latch, my eyes still bleary from sleep.

“What?” I throw the door open, squinting in the sudden lamplight. “What’s happened?”

“Er, hello.”

Owen materializes in front of me, and his scent hits me right in the chest, as powerful as always. He’s still dressed in his day clothes, his hair pulled back in a severe style, his short sword hanging from his belt.

My thoughts grind to a halt, and I just stare at him, wondering if I’m still dreaming.

He’s been haunting my thoughts and my dreams, so it’s a reasonable explanation.

But in my dreams, he never frowned at me like he is now—so it slowly registers that this is real , which means I’m standing in front of him in nothing but a nightgown and socks.

“Oh!” I jerk back, stumble over my feet, and barely catch myself on the doorjamb. “Owen!”

“Were you asleep?” he asks, blond eyebrows climbing up. “Is this a bad time?”

I turn and reach desperately for my dressing gown—at least he has already seen me in it. “No—I mean, yes, I was asleep. What time is it?”

He scrunches up his nose. “Hard to tell underground, but I think just after dinner. Are you unwell? Is that why you were resting?”

Pushing back my hair, I realize it’s unbound and messy, and I stifle a groan at the thought of how I must look. Is my face creased from the pillows, too?

“No, I’m all right.” I shove my arms into the sleeves of the dressing gown and draw it tight around my waist. “Why are you here?”

He straightens at my answer, his shoulders snapping back. “I was told you were searching for me.”

Oh gods. “Who told you that?”

“A human woman with curly blonde hair,” he says, frowning. “She had a tall orc with her, slightly older than us. Didn’t tell me her name, but she’s, ah, she’s with child, I believe.”

Damn you for meddling, Poppy . I’m certain she thought she was helping me somehow, but since this is the result of her thoughtful intervention, I’m not too pleased with her right now.

“Those were Poppy and her mate, Steagor,” I tell Owen. “I met with them earlier today.”

He’s looking at me expectantly, then prompts, “So, were they right? Were you searching for me?”

I’ve never been much of a liar, but today, I’ve been tempted to tell so many untruths. When I set out, outraged, to demand that Owen should let Carrow’s new mate stay at the Hill, I didn’t think about how I’d explain it to him. That would entail telling him about fated mates, and he might compare my patterns of behavior to Carrow’s.

Then again, Carrow didn’t run from his soldier the way I did from mine. Ozork didn’t bolt away from Willow either, so I’m the only one acting this way.

“Mara?” He lowers his voice, stepping closer to me. “What is it?”

The scent of him is so strong, I close my eyes and draw in a deep inhale, unable to help myself. “Mm?”

He’s so close—he came to my door tonight. It’s been so difficult to hold back, to deny the instinct pushing me to claim him as mine.

I force my eyes open and find him staring at me, a flush across his cheeks. He’s so damn close …

Without thinking, I reach out and put my hand on his chest, feeling the warmth of him through his linen tunic. Then, I focus on the steady but rapid beat of his heart, on his quickened breaths.

“I touched you once without permission,” he rasps, his gaze on my lips. “I won’t do it again, my lady.”

He’s not shifting away, nor pushing my hand off. He’s waiting for my next move, and I don’t know if I’m brave enough to do it.

I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, staring into the abyss, my feet inches from the precipice, with no idea if he’ll catch me once I tip over.

But I want him too much.

I close the gap between us. I’m so tall, I barely need to lift my chin to meet him halfway—because he’s already moving, reaching for me, pulling me close.

He cups the back of my neck with one warm, rough palm and slides his other arm around my waist, and then he’s kissing me, his lips crushing down on mine.

At first, we’re clumsy, his nose bumping into mine, my tusks getting in the way. But then he has me tilt my head by pressing lightly on my neck, and I give in to his request instantly. His tongue touches mine, and he groans, a deep sound that seems wrenched from the very heart of him.

Gods, he feels good—his lips, his hands, his hard body against mine. His short beard scratches at my skin, sending shivers of pleasure down my spine. I clench my fingers in his tunic, holding on, and put my other hand on his hip, trying to anchor him to me. He tips my head to the side to deepen the kiss, his movements assured and confident, and I know he’s done this before. But so have I, so I return his kisses one by one, then suck lightly on his lower lip.

Owen lets out another groan, then leans into me more fully, until my back hits the wall. This gives me leverage to roll my hips up, and I gasp as his cock nudges my belly.

“Mara.” He rasps my name, shifting his lips from my mouth to my ear, then kissing his way down my neck. “Gods, you taste good. I couldn’t stay away from you.”

I want to tell him it’s because he’s my mate, and I’m his, but he takes my mouth again, and I forget all about our issues. What do I care why he’s here? All that matters is that he’s with me. He feels too good, too right , and I don’t ever want to let him go.

A noise down the corridor has my ears twitching, so I gasp, breaking the kiss.

“Someone’s coming,” I whisper, my lips inches from Owen’s.

He glances over his shoulder, frowning. Then he pushes me lightly so I step over the threshold, and closes the door, shutting us into the dark room.

“Is this all right?” he murmurs, his mouth at my ear.

I’m pressed against the door now, his body flush with mine.

“Aye.” I bury my fingers in his soft, long hair, and tug on the strands. “Can you see in the dark?”

He shakes his head. “Not much. I can scent you, though. Is it your perfume? It’s not soap, yours was scented with honey. I’ve never smelled anything like it.”He puts his nose to my neck and draws in a deep inhale. “Fuck. Strawberries and cream. My favorite dessert.”

I melt under his touch, my body softening for him. I’m growing wet, and if his potent scent is any indication, he might sense the change in me, too, even though he’s human.

This is finally happening, and my bed is right there . He’d only have to shuffle four or five steps to the right.

“Were you really searching for me?” Owen presses a scratchy kiss to a spot under my ear that has me shivering in his arms. “I’ve been trying to talk to you all day, but you were nowhere to be found.”

I try to pull my thoughts together, but his lips must be magic. Still, I have to make sure my friend remains happy and mated to his new human, so I gasp, “Are you sending your soldiers home?”

Owen pauses, then lifts his head to look down at me. He’s less composed than before, his hair disheveled from my fingers, his eyes a little wild. “Yes. In a day or two. Just waiting for Lady Willow to get settled in.”

I cock my head to the side. “And if any of them want to stay?”

He frowns at me as if he can’t believe I’m talking about his soldiers when we could be kissing . I understand, because kissing him has become my favorite thing to do, but now that I’ve started this conversation, I need to finish it. For Carrow’s sake.

Owen heaves a sigh and puts an inch of space between us, as if he, too, is having difficulty thinking while plastered to me. “Well, I’ll certainly take their wishes into consideration, but they know their duty.”

His words are a splash of cold water to my face. “They do? And what is their duty?”

He must sense a change in me because he draws farther back, squinting in the poor light. “To obey their orders. That’s the basic rule all soldiers accept when they sign up.” He shrugs, as if that’s just the way of the world. “Your Army must be run similarly. Otherwise there’d be chaos.”

He’s right, of course he is—but my cousin would never…

“What’s this about?” Owen asks.

“I think you should let your men stay,” I blurt out. “Those who want that. Regardless of their orders. Not just for the winter either, but forever if they choose to.”

He sucks in a quick breath. “I-I can’t do that. The duke expects me to bring back all of his men. If they stayed here, they’d be deserting from the Army, and I wouldn’t let that happen under my watch.”

Deserting . Oh gods, what have I been thinking?

He came to visit me to talk, not kiss me senseless and tell me he’s staying at the Hill forever. And yet I’ve allowed myself to forget about it.

“You’re going to have to leave, too, aren’t you?”

I heave in a breath to calm myself, but his scent now permeates my room, it sticks to my clothes, my skin—I’ve made such a mistake.

How will I ever forget him?

“Eventually.” He shoves his fingers through his hair in frustration. “I’ve told you this before but I thought…”

I lift my chin, staring at him in defiance. “You thought what? That I’d go with you? I have duties, too, Owen. I have people who are counting on me.”

“No, of course not.” He frowns at me. “I wouldn’t ask that of you.”

I give him a bitter smile. “Then this is it. This is where it ends, where it must end, Owen.”

He stares at me for a long moment. “I don’t regret this. Kissing you.”

His gaze slips down to my mouth, and I want to touch him so badly, I have to squeeze my fists tight to keep myself from reaching for him.

“But I understand,” he adds. “Goodnight, Mara.”

With one last glance, he nods, then opens the door and strides away, his footsteps swallowed by the earthen walls of the Hill.

I let out a shuddering breath, then shove away from the wall. I dust myself off and straighten my dressing gown, which has somehow come undone at the waist. Peering through the door, I make sure no one was nearby to witness the captain’s sudden departure—at least, that’s what I tell myself.

I’m too proud to admit that I’m secretly hoping for his return.

But he’s nowhere to be seen—I guess a man can only get rejected so many times.

Finally, I retreat inside and shut the door, plunging the room into darkness once more. And I stand there for long moments, simply breathing, trying to get myself under control.

But it’s no use. Owen’s scent still clings to my clothes, and his touch lingers on my skin. My lips tingle from his kisses, and I know I’ll never find another man who is so completely, painfully right for me.

It takes me too long to figure out what I should do, but once my mind clears a little, it hits me all at once.

Clawing at my dressing gown, I rip the garment off my shoulders, then sniff at my nightgown. It smells like Owen, too, so I drag it over my head and pile both items in a hamper by the door. Then I run into my privy niche and scrub myself with soap and ice-cold water until my skin is raw and painful.

I don’t notice I’m crying until I dry my face—and my eyes keep leaking tears.

“Damn him,” I whisper.

Within moments, I regret washing him off, though, and by the time I’m dressed in a fresh nightgown, I miss his scent already. Like a complete madwoman, I take my nightgown from the hamper and bring it to bed with me.

Embarrassment floods through me as I scrunch it up and sniff at it, but there’s no one to see me, no one to judge. I might be pathetic, but at least there’s no one here to witness me falling apart.