Chapter 16

16

T he wedding was as beautiful as she'd hoped and sweet enough to cause a toothache. Aislinn arrived early in the day on her chaise to help with Sorcha's preparations, her father following with their small retinue a few hours later.

Sorcha was all nervous chatter, her fingers finding different ways to fidget as Aislinn braided her hair with flowers and her sisters twirled in their dresses and her mother shoved biscuits and tea down her throat.

"It won't do to faint from hunger," Aoife reminded her daughter sagely.

Men were barred from the house, although more than one of Sorcha's brothers attempted to sneak inside to see her. Aislinn intercepted each one and sent them away.

"Not a chance," she told Niall, wagging a finger under his nose, "we know you're doing reconnaissance."

"Have you seen the size of the groom? You try telling him no!"

"Try harder," Aislinn laughed as she shut the door in Niall's face.

In truth, it pleased her to know Orek was so anxious to behold his bride. It had her thinking of her own halfling.

Perhaps some of her joy and giddiness wasn't just for her friend's wedding.

She hadn't found a moment to speak to Hakon since the garden, duties and preparations consuming all her time and sending her to bed downright exhausted. Still, the chance, the promise of something more, of something coming, had her aflame with excitement and expectation.

Tonight was the night. Something would happen, she was sure of it.

Weddings were times of promise, of change, of celebration. Aislinn was determined to claim a little bit of it for herself.

For now, though, her focus was her dearest friend.

Sorcha was the most beautiful bride, and when the afternoon waned and she emerged from the house, she was the picture of a woodland goddess come to bless them. Prettier than a storybook princess, she seemed to glide across the grass to her groom, and all held their breath, in awe of her.

Aislinn's cheeks hurt from smiling so wide, and her eyes leaked happy tears as the couple exchanged vows and made their promises to each other, her father tying a red ribbon around their joined hands to seal it. The ceremony drew tears from nearly everyone, even some of the harpies and manticores.

When Orek bowed his head to take Sorcha in a passionate kiss, declaring them husband and wife, a loud cheer rang out from the large crowd gathered, then a laugh as the kiss went on a little longer than necessary.

Over Orek's broad shoulder, Aislinn spied Hakon, cheering and clapping with the other halflings. His grin went lopsided when their eyes met, and Aislinn flushed from her head to her toes.

Find me when you can, vinya , he'd said. And oh, she meant to.

Tonight.

Although a chilly evening soon crept across the Brádaigh estate, the crackling bonfires kept the celebration lit and warm well into the night. Aoife and Sofie presented the feast that'd taken days to prepare, and over one-hundred guests ate and drank their fill.

As mead and wine flowed, a group of musicians struck up, and revelers crowded around the central fire to dance.

With a belly full of mead and Aoife's fine cooking, Aislinn wove through the dancers until she found Sorcha and pulled her into the dancing.

Her friend glowed with happiness, and as they skipped and twirled barefoot around the fire to the music, they giggled like the little girls they'd once been. Tonight, they were both just as full of hopes and dreams as they'd been as girls, tomorrow brimming with promise. Nothing seemed forbidden or out of reach in the firelight, and the beat of the music and dancing filled Aislinn with an effervescent hope of things to come.

Aislinn laughed until her sides hurt, her mind wonderfully quiet.

The flowers in Sorcha's hair shed petals as they danced and filled the air with a sweet fragrance. The joy for her friend, the happiness Sorcha exuded, was unstoppable, uncontrollable. It was as if everyone there felt it too, the singing loud and joyous, hope and goodwill for the new couple overflowing faster than the wine.

When the song ended, Sorcha threw her arms around Aislinn and hugged her tight. She returned the embrace, pressing a kiss to her friend's cheek.

While she was still monstrously jealous of her friend's new life, seeing how Sorcha had made her own way gave Aislinn a little more courage. They weren't the same, and neither were their situations, but tonight, nothing felt impossible.

"You deserve every happiness," Aislinn whispered to her friend.

Sorcha squeezed her tight before releasing her. "So do you. You'll tell me if there's anything I can do to make it happen?"

"Of course." She pinched Sorcha's arm and turned her around back into the celebration. "But not tonight. Tonight is your night!"

Sorcha threw her arms up, more petals falling from her wild curls, and then she was pulled away into another dance by her sisters.

Aislinn watched on as she caught her breath. It was a good excuse to…

There he is.

Weaving through the throng of people, Aislinn smiled and nodded where she needed but didn't let herself be snared into conversation. Instead, she walked with purpose around the bonfire to where Hakon stood, watching the dancing.

Heart pounding, Aislinn came to stand alongside him. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

"Indeed. They are well suited." Hakon grinned fondly. "To be honest, I'm glad the ceremony at least is over. Orek was nervous all morning."

"He'd no reason to be. Although, I take it as a good sign."

"A groom should be nervous?"

"At least a little, I think."

"That his bride won't appear?"

"That he might faint when he sees that his bride is more beautiful than he ever dreamed."

Hakon rumbled in thought. "That's certainly a possibility." The lopsided grin he gave her had her stomach flipping with anxious delight.

Clearing her throat, Aislinn pulled in a breath and all her courage.

The music, the dancing, the mead—it all helped. Mead was her preferred drink; she enjoyed the taste and she'd experimented over the years to know exactly what specific amounts did to her. At two goblets, she wasn't drunk, merely brave—and a little tingly. The perfect state to open her mouth and ask—

"Do you dance?"

Hakon's heavy brows rose, and he glanced at the revelers dancing merrily around the bonfire.

"I don't know your human dances," he admitted, his grin falling.

Aislinn smiled through her sudden anxiety. "It's all right! We can stand and talk."

Hakon grimaced, looking around for a moment before raising a finger. "Stay right here," he told her, before disappearing into the crowd.

She blinked after him, not sure how to interpret that. Not dancing with him and now not in his company, either. Not how she'd envisioned this.

Her brows sank into a confused frown, and the pleasant tingling in her lips and fingers began to fade.

Fates, now what do I do?

Certainly not chase after him through the crowd. Too conspicuous. Dancing together might be too, but it was a night of revelry and possibilities. There was a good chance some might not even remember after a night of celebration and drinking. The perfect opportunity to feel her halfling move and have him all to herself.

"My lady."

Aislinn startled, looking up into the fathomless gaze of Allarion.

"Forgive me," he was quick to say as Aislinn rubbed at where her heart pounded.

She dismissed his concerns with a wave, and then stood in shock at the sight of the mysterious fae. Gone was his long cloak. He was still covered from neck to toe in a fine black doublet that fit tightly to his muscular chest and dark trou tucked at the knee into black leather boots—but all his limbs were visible, and his long fall of hair had been tied back. Those pointed ears jutted back from his head, the many hoops and studs glittering in the firelight.

He almost looked…casual without the cloak.

A small smile touched his lips, sending Aislinn reeling in shock.

"It is a fine night. They give me much hope."

Aislinn watched Allarion look out into the crowd, his gaze finding Orek and Sorcha across the courtyard, speaking to each other in low tones with warm, loving smiles on their faces.

"It's wonderful," Aislinn agreed. "Oh!"

Snapping her fingers, she dug through her pocket to produce the folded but signed and official deed.

"I believe this is yours," she said, presenting him with the papers. "As is Scarborough estate."

Eyes crinkling at the edges, Allarion gently took the deed, running his fingers over the parchment. "I thank you, Lady Aislinn. You cannot understand how much this means to a fae like me."

There was a wealth of questions Aislinn wanted to ask him then—but the fae and his inscrutable smile were saved by the heavy beat of a drum.

Aislinn turned back to the bonfire to behold dancers clearing the way for all the orcs to converge in a great circle around the fire. About a half-dozen halflings, including Hakon and Orek, joined the ten or so orcs from Orek's old clan who'd come for the wedding. They stood tall and silent around the crackling fire as the drumbeat grew louder and faster, and the crowd held its breath, waiting.

One of the older orcs let out a long shout, and then the others joined in, declaring something in orcish. The drum picked up pace, and as one, the orcs began to move. They whooped and yelled, their tusks flashing and the golden loops that decorated their green ears sparkling in the light.

Muscles bulged as their great bodies danced, their feet stomping the ground to create a rhythm that harmonized with the drumbeat. They clapped and hummed, dropping down before bouncing up, legs kicking. They jumped through the air, far more graceful than their size implied, spinning and pounding the ground again with feet and fists.

They circled the fire as a unit, undulating like an encroaching wave about to crash against the shore. Aislinn's pulse beat hard at her throat and between her legs, the powerful sight of their big bodies lurching and spinning inciting a deep, hot lust. She put a hand to her cheek to feel how it burned.

She couldn't tear her gaze away from Hakon, how he moved his body through the maneuvers. It was something like a dance and the exercises she saw the knights doing, everything demanding strength and discipline and poise. It was somehow both brutal and elegant, and her lips parted to watch how his arms bulged and his chest expanded with every heaving breath as he moved with his fellow orcs.

"It's one of their mating dances," said Allarion.

"O-oh?" she stuttered, having entirely forgotten the fae was there.

"Often done during celebrations, I believe. To impress potential partners."

"It's certainly impressive." She hoped she didn't sound as breathless with lust to Allarion as she did to her own ears.

She wasn't the only one watching on with awe and longing, the crowd nearly silent as they beheld the show of strength. From somewhere near the house, someone began to clap along with the drumbeat, and then everyone was, whooping and cheering with every impressive move.

Their dance gained momentum, the drumbeat like a heart, pounding and pumping as the bonfire cast shadows across the orcs' powerful forms. More than once, Aislinn found herself holding her breath, hungry to see what happened next as well as desperate for it to end and Hakon to return to her.

When it finally did end, with a roar of triumph from the orcs and matching applause from the crowd, Aislinn's body burned.

The orcs were soon subsumed back into the crowd, many hurrying to speak with and admire them. Aislinn watched as Hakon wove his way back toward her, not stopping for anyone.

"I will leave you," Allarion said, perhaps a note of amusement in his voice. "Good evening, my lady."

She thought she bid him goodnight, but all she really knew was that her lips were parted when Hakon finally did come to stand before her.

His big chest rose and fell, a few trickles of sweat along his temples catching the firelight. Those deep brown eyes seemed to burn brighter than the bonfire—a match to Aislinn's own desire.

She couldn't bring herself to say anything, longing holding her throat tight.

Hakon said nothing, either. Just moved to stand alongside her again.

The celebration resumed around them, full of familiar noises and sights. She could have resumed their friendship in that moment, too. Let things slip back to the way they were.

It may have been the safer, wiser thing to do, but it wasn't what she wanted.

And so…

She slid her hand into his, pulse fluttering at her throat to feel how large his palm was against hers. With a little tug on his hand, she said softly, "Come with me?"

He turned his face to hers, his expression full of hunger.

"Anywhere."

H akon's body burned even as they passed from the light of the bonfire into the cool, murky shadows of the estate's outer buildings. Other figures moved in purple blurs out in the darkness, but Hakon paid them no heed.

He let Aislinn lead him into the darkness, enthralled by the hypnotic sway of her hips. He'd seen her in finery before, but there was something about this dress—a deep, flushing pink that nearly matched her cheeks when she blushed—that had his blood running hot ever since he spied her in the early afternoon.

Fates, he'd been so envious of Orek all day. The male fretted over nothing, there was no question that his bride would emerge at the appointed time. Still, his anxiousness to see his mate and officially begin their new life in the eyes of the humans was endearing.

Hakon's own anxiousness was sharper. Ever since that afternoon in the garden, he'd been filled with nothing but agonizing hopes that sank their fangs into him and wouldn't let go.

His beast was insufferable; even now, as he held her hand and followed her into the soft darkness, the infernal thing wouldn't be silent. Anticipation held his heart in a tight fist, and he could barely breathe beyond it.

The darkness wasn't too thick, and his orcish eyes had no problem seeing that she led them to the far side of the stables. She found her way without error, and under a tree, after a moment of waiting to hear if anyone was nearby, she turned to face him.

Hakon wondered if she could hear his heart beating thunderously, for to his ears it was louder than the drums had been.

Her small hand came to rest on his chest as she stepped forward into the curve of his body, and he leaned down to meet her. Her scent filled his nose, a sweet mix of roses and honey and…mead.

He looked at her eyes, but of course the pupils were blown wide in the dark.

A little tug on his tunic brought his attention back to her.

"Kiss me," she whispered, breath honey-sweet from mead.

"Because you're jealous of your friend getting married?" He didn't care, not truly, not after the garden, but he still needed to know. He was playing this game to win.

"Because I want you to kiss me."

A rumbling purr rattled to life in his chest, and he dipped his head even lower. She got on her toes to meet him, and although the angle put a crick in his neck, it was one of the best moments of Hakon's life.

Their lips met in shy reunion, tentative and soft. He tasted the mead on her lips, yes, but also her .

His beast needed nothing else.

Straightening to his full height, out of her reach, his gaze devoured her.

She pouted up at him, misunderstanding why he pulled away. Then, she gasped in delight when he bent to pick her up and carry her.

"Fine," she sighed into his neck, pressing a kiss there that made him shudder with need, "I'm a little jealous of her getting wedded. But more so that she's getting bedded."

Hakon's groan was long and with feeling. He hustled her to the far side of the stable, where great bales of hay were stacked neatly. He lifted her onto one pile before climbing up on the one below it. Sitting like that, tucked away in the hay, they were nearly the same height.

Her smile was wide and full of joy, drawing him back into her glow. Her hands sought his face, cupping his jaw to pull him nearer. He rested his arms on the hay around her, the fine fabric of her gown teasing his skin.

"Are you not a little jealous that they get to make love all night?" she whispered against his lips.

"Intensely," he said. "But if it was me, with my beautiful mate, it wouldn't be a night of making love."

"No?" She carded her fingers through his hair, her soft gaze watching her work. "What then?"

"Nothing but rutting."

He filled his hand with her waist, feeling her warmth and how her breathing stuttered at his words. Those plush lips parted, and he couldn't resist any longer. He swooped in and claimed them, savoring her taste.

Gone was the shyness of before. He devoured her, claiming and tasting and gorging himself. She gasped against his lips, her nails scraping against his scalp.

His cock kicked in his trou, overeager for her, but— Not yet. Not yet.

He had wooing to do first.

Pulling her closer across her bale, Hakon drowned in her taste and feel and scent. She was everything he'd wanted for so long, he hardly believed he held her, warm and enthusiastic, in his arms. She squirmed and pressed against him, her hands exploring the length of his neck and width of his shoulders.

He lived for the little noises she made deep in her throat, wanted to swallow them down with her taste and hold onto them forever. He chased every one, needing another, greedy for all she could give him.

The night around them was cool and purple-tinged, almost like a dream. It was a dream to him, and he prayed to the old gods he'd never wake.

Her blunt teeth caught his lower lip and tugged, inciting a growl of lust. He answered by running his hand up her waist to her breast, daring to tease his fingers across the neckline of her gown and then down, finding the needy point of her nipple through the fabric.

She gasped against his mouth, a decadent moan escaping her lips. He kissed her chin, her jaw, down her neck. Aislinn exposed her throat to him, and he lavished her with his tongue for the show of trust. He kissed and sucked at her pulse, feeling how it throbbed under his lips, before straying lower.

Her fingers clutched at his shoulders as his lips skimmed across the petal-soft tops of her breasts. He knew they'd be a perfect handful and watched as his green thumb teased at the embroidered, plunging neck of her gown. It was delicious and wicked to see the contrast of their skin, how the night rendered him nearly as dark as the forest while her peachy skin almost glowed in the moonlight.

Fates, she's so beautiful it hurts.

Her hand came to rest over his, pressing it to her breast. She moved again in that needy way of hers, and he felt her groan of desire against his head, where she pressed kisses to his temple.

Unable to resist, Hakon sank his face into those plush breasts, taking a long draw of her scent. It was heavier here, thicker, and she tasted of warm woman and salt from the dancing. He rained kisses and nips to the tops of her breasts, plumping them for his attention with their joined hands.

"Hakon," she gasped, raking her nails down his neck.

His purr grew almost violent, shaking his chest and hers. He held the whole world in his hand, and he wouldn't be foolish enough to let it go. She was everything to him, the axis around which his world spun, his guiding star.

He hadn't been able to explain to Siggy why he wanted to leave Kaldebrak for the human lands. He hadn't truly known himself.

It was for her. I came for her.

That was so perfectly clear to him now, even in his thick haze of lust.

He teased a finger into her gown to draw it down, and his greedy mouth was ready when her nipple popped free of the bodice. Aislinn clutched him to her as he filled his mouth with her, lashing her with his tongue and pulling on her tender flesh in deep, long pulls.

"Aislinn, vinya, " he murmured against her skin. Rose, he called her. His rose, vibrant and sweet.

"Hakon," she whispered back, her hand straying down from his chest to his belt.

"Oh!" Another voice punched through the quiet night, and someone giggled drunkenly below them. "This is taken."

Two sets of footsteps staggered away, and while Hakon logically knew the most anyone could see from below was their legs, not who they were attached to, his hunger cooled and hardened like iron to know they'd gotten so close without him noticing.

No one was allowed near his mate while he pleasured her. Her pleasure, her noises, were for him alone.

He could hear her heartbeat quickening at her breast, and her touch was less lustful and more frantic as she tried to pull him back into their lovemaking.

She moaned in unhappiness when he pulled away and righted her bodice.

"Hakon." She moved quicker than his addled mind was ready for, capturing a kiss and resting her hands over his, trying to pull him back to her. "Make love to me. Rut me. "

It was his turn to moan, and he hung his head. It would be so easy to give in, and as she pressed her body to his and kisses into his skin, he wanted to. Oh, gods, how he wanted to.

But he still smelled the mead on her breath. And the tang of horse from the stable.

Not like this, he told himself—and more importantly his beast. Not like this. She deserves much better.

If he was to show her all that he could be for her, he could and would do better when he made love to her for the first time.

"I will, Aislinn. Fates, I want to." He let his mouth fall to hers, taking one last taste of her. "But only when your head is clear and you're sure it's what you want."

A frown gathered at her brow. "Hakon…"

"You must be sure, vinya , for there will be no going back. Once I have you, you'll be mine, do you understand?" He skimmed his lips across her brow, the whisper of a kiss, a promise of much more. "You'll ruin me for any other, and I intend to do the same for you. So you must be sure."

She blinked at him in astonishment, and he took the chance to retreat. Sliding to the ground, he helped her down. Aislinn looked up at him in bewildered silence, allowing him to take her hand and lead her back to the celebration.

His beast thrashed inside him. Fool! it roared. Don't let her get away! Take her, claim her! She wants you to!

Fates, yes. The thought kept him incandescent. She wanted him—but when she came to him, it had to be with a clear head. He'd accept nothing less of her than everything, and while he risked never having his chance again by denying her now, he couldn't risk that she would regret tonight and turn away later.

Smart, we have to be smart, he told the beast—and his angry cock.

The confusion was plain on her face when he turned to her on the fringes of the firelight. Lifting her hand, he placed a kiss just above her knuckles.

"I'll be waiting, vinya, " he whispered before making himself turn away.

If he stayed a moment longer, he'd forget himself and his plans and take her right back to that hay pile.

Hakon gritted his tusks against his gums and put on speed, hurrying around the center of the estate and keeping to the low light on the outskirts of the dwindling celebration. Music still played and people still danced and ate and sang, but others had moved to smaller groups or disappeared entirely—including the bride and groom.

His pace was unforgiving as he strode across the estate. He recognized someone calling his name, Varon and a group of fellow half-orcs gathered round a smaller fire and drinking, but he ignored it. The blood in his veins burned too hot to stop.

Soon, he left behind the celebration and the light, finding his way by the moon. He didn't stop until rocks and water scraped and sloshed beneath his boots.

Baring his tusks at the night, Hakon pulled off his boots and flung them back onto dry land. His nicest jerkin and tunic went next, then his best trou. Naked, he walked into the lake near the manor house, the chilly water sending gooseflesh up his legs.

He hardly felt it past the burning ache in his blood.

Hakon wrapped a fist around the angry cock bobbing between his legs and pumped. He hissed with hunger and desperation.

Was he a fool for stopping? Had he missed his only chance?

Only time would tell.

Hakon had been patient already. He could be again now.

But fates, he didn't want patience. He wanted Aislinn. He wanted his mate.

His hand slid up and down his throbbing shaft, collecting slick that leaked from the tip. Spend dribbled into the lake, and the water lapped at his legs as he worked himself mercilessly. The memories of her softness under his lips and hands were a stark counterpoint to his roughness, and he wished with everything inside him that it was her he thrust into, not his own hand.

Soon, he promised himself.

More than a promise—a vow.

Soon, soon, soon.

His hips thrust to the rhythm of that promise, and with one last brutal pump, Hakon released into the lake, his lips pulled back in a snarl.

He heaved as the desire poured from him, and before he'd even finished, he threw himself into the lake headfirst. The cold water rushed past him, shocking his body and bringing a measure of relief.

Without it, he was liable to storm back through camp and, in front of everyone, throw Aislinn over his shoulder to find somewhere quiet and sequestered in the old way.

Soon.

A islinn wandered the outskirts of the celebration for a while, mind turning over all that'd happened. Or not happened, as it were.

The noises of the revelry didn't register as she pondered what Hakon said—and rued that the mead she'd drunk sabotaged her chance at laying with her blacksmith that night.

Be sure, he'd said.

I am sure! What about letting him expose and lick her breast made him think she wasn't?

Honestly, men were impossible.

"Milady?"

Aislinn looked up, startled at the sound of Fia's voice. Her maid stood only a few feet away, looking concerned.

"Men are impossible," she blurted.

Fia's concern faded into an amused grin. "That they are, milady. Sometimes wholly insufferable. But there are a few good ones yet."

"Even those are impossible sometimes."

"Certainly." Fia looked her over, no doubt noting how her dress was slightly askew. Aislinn could only hope no hay was sticking from her hair.

"Are you all right, milady?"

"Yes," she sighed. "Just tired. I think I'm turning in."

"Your bed is ready for you. Shall I—?"

Aislinn waved her back toward the revelry. "No, no. I can manage. Enjoy your night." Someone deserves to.

Fia made a few noises of protest, but Aislinn ultimately entered the dark, quiet tent alone. Her father hadn't retired yet and none of their attendants had returned. No matter, Aislinn had practice in getting herself out of gowns.

With her stays loosened just enough, she was able to slip out of her gown, then collapsed into her cot in just her chemise.

Rolling onto her back, Aislinn stared at the tent ceiling, grumpy and forlorn and trying not to despair.

Her fingers made idle circles around her right breast, and she swore it was warmer than the other, the memory of his mouth still burned into her skin.

She shifted in the blankets, overwarm, with unfulfilled desire scratching under her skin. She was in no mood to bring herself pleasure in a camp tent when her father could walk in at any time, though.

No, she was in the mood to have a certain halfling blacksmith satisfy her lust.

Fates, what if he decided he doesn't want me after all?

Was that why he'd stopped and brought her back?

Be sure.

She was sure. Sure she wanted him.

But as the night deepened and she turned the words over in her mind, she began to think that perhaps he meant more than just sex.

Aislinn knew whatever was between them was about more than just physical desire. She counted Hakon as her friend, and in truth, that was most important to her. That she wanted to feel his hands and tongue touch her everywhere was just an added boon.

She didn't know where this could lead. Likely only to heartache.

Aislinn wasn't like Sorcha. Her life wasn't her own, inextricably tied to the Darrowlands. Her life wasn't hers to give.

But her heart, her body, those she could give. She so wished to give both to him.

If only he'd take them, hay or not, she grumbled to herself.

Fates, what did she do now? How did she make him understand?

She feared it meant being brave once again. The night truly had brought change and promise, but Aislinn feared what the morning would bring. Could she still be brave in the light of day, at home in Dundúran, and take what she wanted?

Aislinn didn't know.

Whatever she did, though, it'd be without the help of mead.