Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

R udi moved around the kitchen, preparing a simple breakfast of porridge and dried fruit, fighting a wave of emotion as looked over at Clarice and Lina. His body still ached from their interrupted intimacy, but even that didn’t dim the warm feeling of contentment. The last week had been the best of his life, giving him a glimpse into something he’d never dreamed he’d have. A family.

Family. It was a concept as alien to him as Clarice’s original world, but it no longer seemed completely out of reach. This morning, tangled together in the warmth of the bed, had felt... right. For a moment, he’d experienced a flash of longing for this kind of life. A longing he thought he’d buried years ago.

Except that he knew he was only fooling himself. The villagers would never accept him, and he couldn’t bear the thought of her being shunned because of her association with him. His jaw tightened.

“Look, I made it glow like Rudi’s antlers!” Lina held up her crystal, waving it in the morning light.

Clarice laughed, the sound warming the room. “That’s because you found the perfect angle for the light. You’re a clever girl.”

His chest tightened as he watched them. The scene before him felt like a glimpse into a life he’d never dared imagine—one filled with warmth and acceptance instead of isolation. His mating lines pulsed faintly beneath his shirt, a constant reminder of what could be.

He set their bowls on the table. “Eat before it gets cold.”

Lina dug in immediately, but Clarice’s eyes met his, soft and thoughtful. He looked away first, focusing on his own meal.

All too soon, she rose to leave for Miran’s. The words “stay” pressed against his lips, but he swallowed them back. He couldn’t trap her here, couldn’t let his desperate need for connection chain her to his lonely existence.

“I’ll see you tonight,” she said softly, touching his arm.

He nodded stiffly, watching her gather her things and shepherd Lina towards the door. His antlers began to glow traitorously, betraying his emotions. As soon as the door closed behind them, the house felt colder, emptier. It didn’t help that his cock still ached with unfulfilled desire.

Annoyed at his weakness, he stalked into the bathroom, stripping off his clothes with sharp, angry movements. His reflection caught his eye and he froze. The red lines across his chest pulsed, casting a rosy glow across the room. He swore when he realized that they now curled his cock as well. Even his body betrayed him, wanting something—someone—he could never have.

He stepped into the shower, letting the hot water cascade over his shoulders. But instead of soothing him, it reminded him of her touch, gentle yet demanding. His body responded instantly to the memory of her in his bed, warm and willing, and the mating lines blazed brighter, throbbing around his cock.

He groaned, pressing his forehead against the cool tile, water running down his back. If they completed the bond, the marks would become permanent—visible proof of their connection. There would be no hiding it from the village, no pretending he was content in his solitude.

His antlers cast shifting patterns of light on the shower walls. He’d spent years learning to control their glow, to suppress his emotions. But with her, all that careful restraint crumbled. If Lina hadn’t burst in...

I wouldn’t have stopped until I claimed her.

The need to mark her as his mate, had overwhelmed every rational thought. Even now, the mere memory of her lips on his made his cock throb with need.

He gripped himself, unable to resist the temptation any longer. His hand stroked slowly at first, then faster as images of her danced through his mind. The soft curves of her body, the way she’d moaned at his touch...

His climax hit him like an avalanche, stealing his breath. But the satisfaction was fleeting, and he sagged against the wall. His antlers glowed brighter than ever, reminding him of everything he couldn’t have.

He shut off the water with more force than necessary. The truth was, he wanted to claim her. For the first time in his life, the prospect of being marked filled him with desperate hope instead of dread. Shoving that thought aside, he dressed and went to his workshop, hoping to lose himself in work.

Instead he found himself pacing, picking up tools only to set them down again. The familiar comfort of his workbench eluded him. His thoughts kept drifting to her, to the warmth of her body against his. The mating lines on his chest pulsed with a dull ache.

He finally grabbed his satchel, stuffing it with crystals he’d managed to finish despite his distraction. Anything to escape the thoughts tormenting him. He took the back way to Garrick’s shop as usual but he noticed the square buzzing with activity as he slipped inside.

The bell chimed as he entered, and Garrick’s eyebrows shot up at the sight of him.

“Early this week,” Garrick said, adjusting his glasses.

He shrugged, unpacking the crystals. “Had them ready.”

“Beautiful work, as always.” Garrick held one up to the light, admiring the precision of the cuts. “These will fetch top price at market.”

The shopkeeper counted out his payment, then hesitated.

“Would you... care for some mulled wine? Just got a fresh batch warming.”

He opened his mouth to refuse as usual. But the thought of returning to his empty house, with its lingering traces of her scent, made his chest tighten.

“Yes,” he heard himself say instead.

Garrick blinked, then broke into a pleased smile. He bustled to the back room, returning with two steaming mugs that filled the shop with the scent of spices and fruit, and handed him one.

He took one of the chairs by the window, wrapping his fingers around the warm mug. Garrick settled across from him, a careful distance away, and took a slow sip.

“You know I’ve ever seen anyone match your skill with the crystals.”

The praise caught him off guard. He’d always assumed the shopkeeper’s politeness was merely professional courtesy.

“Been doing it long enough,” he muttered into his mug.

“Remember when you first started? Must’ve been, what, fifteen years ago?” Garrick’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “You were so determined to prove yourself.”

Heat crept up his neck. He’d stormed into the shop back then, demanding Garrick take his crystals.

“Suppose I wasn’t the easiest to deal with,” he admitted.

“No harder than any young male trying to find his place.” Garrick shrugged. “Always wished you’d join us for festival days though. My mate makes the best spiced cakes in the village.”

His chest tightened. How many invitations had he brushed off over the years? How many tentative offerings of friendship had he rejected, convinced they masked ulterior motives?

The wine’s warmth spread through him as memories surfaced—Garrick’s patient corrections on his early work, the occasional extra coin slipped into his payment during lean times, the quiet greetings that never faltered despite his curt responses.

“I could have handled things differently,” he said softly, more to himself than the other male.

Garrick simply nodded, refilling their mugs without comment, but the silence between them felt lighter somehow, tinged with understanding rather than awkwardness.

The shop’s door banged open, interrupting the quiet and sending a blast of cold air through the warm space. His muscles tensed as Blitzer’s hulking frame filled the doorway, that familiar sneer twisting his features.

“Sharing a drink with the freak, Garrick?” Blitzer’s voice dripped with mockery. “You must be getting soft in your old age.”

He kept his eyes on his mug, his jaw clenching. Garrick started to respond, but Blitzer cut him off.

“Eldrik’s called a meeting. Mandatory attendance.”

Garrick set his mug down with a sharp clack, his face draining of color.

“Now? But the shop-”

“Now means now. Unless you want to explain to the Frost King why you’re too busy drinking to attend?” Blitzer’s shadow fell across their table as he scowled down at Rudi. “That means you too, freak.”

He pushed back his chair and stood. Without a word or glance at the other male, he headed for the door.

“Hey! Where do you think you’re going?” Blitzer called after him. “Eldrik specifically mentioned you.”

His lip curled. Eldrik could specifically mention him all he wanted—he held no authority over those who chose to live outside the village proper, and Rudi didn’t owe him anything. The older male’s grasping for power had grown more obvious lately, but he wanted no part of it.

He caught Garrick’s expression as he turned to leave—a mix of wistfulness and something that looked oddly like envy. The shopkeeper’s eyes darted toward the village square where others were already gathering, then back to him. He gave the other male a quick smile before he stepped out into the cold, leaving Blitzer’s demands echoing behind him. Let them have their meeting. He had more important things to think about—like Clarice.

“Running home to your little human?” Blitzer’s voice carried after him. “Never thought I’d see the day when someone actually chose to live with you.”

But she had , he thought, his antlers tingling with warmth at the memory. For once, walking away from the village didn’t feel like exile. The usual hollow ache in his chest was replaced by anticipation. Clarice would return from Miran’s soon, probably carrying some new herbal concoction and eager to tell him about her day’s lessons.

The path home felt shorter, lighter. Even the cold seemed less bitter. He touched his chest where his mating lines still glowed faintly beneath his clothes. The sight no longer filled him with despair—instead, it reminded him of this morning’s interrupted moment, of Clarice’s soft touch and accepting smile.

Let Blitzer have his petty jabs. Let Eldrik call his meetings. For the first time in his life, he had something that was genuinely his and he would savor that for as long as he could.