5. Kaila

My knees shook, and my pulse fluttered behind my ribcage. I could already feel the shayde’s claws sinking into my spine, its fangs ripping out my throat.

The orc—Turren—turned on his heel and started across the tiny meadow.

My brother took a step after him. “Wait.”

“Brunnen,” I hissed. When Turren turned, I flicked my hand toward him. “Keep going. Goodbye.” I resisted the urge to sarcastically call him mate. What kind of fool did he take me for? A pendant couldn’t magically pick someone to marry.

He wasn’t mine, and I would never be his.

“Maybe this orc can help us,” Brunnen pleaded low by my ear. “At least stay with us tonight. We’ll travel during the day tomorrow like he suggests and sleep at night. A few days isn’t a long time.”

“I could take you there,” Turren said.

Brunnen’s eyes lit up. I put a restraining hand on his arm before he bounded over to the orc like a chall in love with a new master.

“We can get there on our own,” I insisted. “We don’t need his help.”

“I was merely offering.” Turren’s eyes remained locked on mine, not traveling down my frame in a greedy way like Jabon. “When we get there, I could introduce you to Mavileen, the caedos of the village.”

“We don’t need you,” I pretty much shouted.

A bellow rang out from my right and dull thuds echoed, coming in this direction.

“Yes, I can see that,” Turren said with a soft laugh, an infernal sound that raked down my spine like a beast’s claws. “You’ll do very well on your own.”

“Kaila,” Brunnen whined, shifting his feet in the thick grass.

“I can hunt while we travel,” Turren said, as if this added incentive would make all the difference. “Show you the safest places to drink from the river, where to sleep at night, and . . .” The words rushed out of him, seeming to surprise even him. Wasn’t he used to talking? “And you’ll have the might of my staff as we travel.” He hefted it again, displaying the chiseled, sharp tip on the end, the thickness of its shaft. Muscles on his chest, arms, and abdomen rippled with the movement beneath his medium-green skin. Except . . .

Only now did I note that his left arm was not only covered with thick scars, but it also looked slightly smaller than the right. What kind of injury had he sustained to do that much damage?

For one moment, I felt sympathy for this orc.

“Why would you want to do something like this for us?” I asked. There was always a price.

What would he want in exchange for his help? As I watched him, a warm feeling bloomed low in my belly. He was attractive—for an orc. The warmth was merely my natural response to such a formidable male. Like many women, I found strength and a strong will appealing in a visceral way. We were all drawn to someone who made it clear they could protect us.

“I’m sure we can come to . . .” He swallowed, his gaze drifting to the ground. “Some sort of agreement.”

Something was crashing in the woods, coming this way. We didn’t have time for negotiations. It was all I could do not to bolt in the opposite direction.

Brunnen nodded raptly, oblivious to the hunting beast. I wanted to snarl at him, but he was the youngling Turren had named him. At thirteen, he did his best to help and be there for me, but he had some growing to do before he could step into a man’s shoes.

Turren appeared to fill them well already.

“What are you suggesting?” I asked.

His lips flickered upward, and moonlight snagged on his white tusks almost as long as my smallest finger. What would it be like to kiss a male with tusks? I bet they’d press into my skin. Hurt.

He stood proudly before us, practically naked, something unheard of in the village where men wore thick trousers and long-sleeved shirts even in the heat of the summer, the latter to protect their skin from biting teetsers. His simple loincloth merely enhanced his gorgeous physique. As for his arm, it actually made him appear . . . braver. As if he’d survived something horrible and come out the other side a better male for all the suffering.

His loincloth barely covered the sizeable bulge between his legs that stirred at my attention.

I huffed. He was just like all males, thinking of only one thing—a thing they’d be glad to take, never woo from a woman. Was it too much to ask for a male to defer to her in something like this even once?

“Here’s my offer,” he said in a low voice that tickled across my skin. He frowned toward the woods where the beast crashed around.

I didn’t like feeling attracted to him. Didn’t like him.

“I’ll take you to the village,” he said softly, his hand tightening on his wooden shaft. “We’ll travel during the day, and I’ll provide your food. I’ll protect you from threats, and you’ll be able to sleep soundly without fear of being attacked. I’ll even bring you to the tops of the trees at night to rest.”

“Why the tops of the trees?” Brunnen asked eagerly, shooting me a look that told me my poor brother so eager for a father figure had found one in an orc we randomly met in the forest.

“Shaydes and ashenclaws can’t climb,” Turren said quite seriously.

“Won’t we fall?”

“Not if you rest on a wide branch.”

“What other conditions?” I snarled, breaking through their male bonding. I shifted toward him, my skin crawling with fear that whatever was in the woods nearby would attack. “You’re not offering to do this out of the goodness of your heart.”

Turren’s lips curled up on one side.

My heart flipped over.

“What if I was?” he asked.

“What do you want?” I bit out.

His golden eyes met mine. “I’ll do all this for you . . .”

And here it is. There was always something.

“As long as you let me woo you.”