Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

K ari's eyes fluttered open, confusion filling her as she found herself once again in an unfamiliar place. She'd been too tired when Merow brought her here to pay much attention to her surroundings. The soft glow of an oil lamp cast dancing shadows across rough-hewn wooden beams overhead. She sat up slowly, her fingers sinking into the plush furs covering a massive bed. A familiar scent teased her nose and she suddenly remembered she was in Wulf's bed.

The impact of her situation hit her anew. Sharing a bedroll under the stars had felt temporary, almost like an adventure. But this... this felt permanent. Real.

He'd been so patient with her on the journey, despite the heat in his eyes and his seemingly ever present erection. But installing her in his rooms, the possessive way he'd introduced her to the other orcs... Would he expect more now? The kiss by the stream flashed through her mind, sending a shiver down her spine - not entirely from nerves.

She stood abruptly, needing to move, to think. She slid off the bed, her bare feet sinking into a thick bearskin rug. It looked exactly like one she'd seen in a magazine once and she shook her head. Another one of those odd similarities with Earth.

The gown Merow had given her was way too long, pooling at her feet, and she had to hold it up as she explored. Merow had promised to fix it, her maternal clucking both comforting and strange, but the dress was a welcome change from her borrowed shirt.

The bed dominated a spacious bedroom, its sturdy frame crafted from thick logs, polished smooth by years of use. Intricate carvings adorned the headboard, an interwoven pattern that hinted at words but remained frustratingly obscure. She padded across the room, drawn to an ornate chest resting against the far wall. Its surface gleamed with inlaid metals, forming swirling patterns that seemed to move in the flickering lamplight, the craftsmanship exquisite.

An archway led her into a sitting area, furnished with oversized wooden chairs upholstered in more thick furs. A large desk occupied one corner. Papers covered in unfamiliar script lay scattered about, and she ran her fingers over the strange letters, wishing she could decipher their meaning. A combination of leather bound books and rolled parchments, along with a cluttered assortment of objects filled the shelves behind the desk.

A map spread on the desk caught her eye - its borders and landmarks were completely foreign to her but there was something about the outline that looked vaguely familiar and she sighed. No matter what similarities she uncovered, this was not her Earth.

A weapons rack hung on the wall next to the fireplace, displaying an impressive array of blades. Her gaze lingered on a particularly ornate dagger, its hilt adorned with what looked like precious stones, before looking around the room again. If there were similarities between this land and medieval Europe, Wulf was a man of some wealth and importance.

That suspicion was further compounded when she opened the door to a small adjoining room and discovered a crude but recognizable toilet. A steady trickle of water ran through a channel beneath it, carrying waste away. The ingenuity of the system impressed her, and it was certainly a step up from crouching in the woods.

She returned to the bedroom where heavy curtains in a plain woven fabric framed windows that looked out into a red-tinged darkness. She wandered over to the window seat, sinking into a thick leather cushion as she gazed out over the central area below. Firelight from the huge bonfire at the center cast long, dancing shadows across the courtyard, illuminating the massive forms of the celebrating orcs.

Their laughter echoed up to her perch, a deep, rumbling noise that sent a shiver down her spine. Mugs and horns clashed together in toasts, and the scent of roasting meat wafted up on the night air. It was primal, raw, and utterly foreign to her.

She searched for Wulf among the crowd, finding him easily enough. Even from a distance, his presence commanded attention. He stood tall among his warriors, the firelight glinting off his tusks as he threw his head back in laughter at something one of his companions said.

Watching him, she was struck by how familiar he had become to her in such a short time. She recognized the way he cocked his head when listening intently, the slight furrow in his brow when he was deep in thought. She knew the gentleness of his touch despite his imposing size, the warmth in his eyes when he looked at her.

When had that happened? When had this fearsome orc become someone she knew so well?

Her fingers absently traced the unfamiliar fabric of the gown Merow had provided her during their visit to the bathhouse. The round building had surprised her with its unexpected luxury - a large wooden tub, big enough for a dozen people, steam rising invitingly from its surface. A metal fireplace built into one wall of the rub both heated the water and warmed the air.

Merow scooped out a bucket of the hot water, firmly insisting that she undress and wash before entering the tub. The thought of being naked in front of a stranger, even one as kind as Merow, made her feel exposed and vulnerable, but the promise of hot water surrounding her travel-weary body proved too tempting to resist.

As she sank into the soothing embrace of the tub, Merow bustled around, brewing a pot of tea on top of the stove. She brought her a mug, then sat down next to the tub with her own cup and started asking questions. Compelled by that bright, dark gaze, Kari found herself answering as honestly as she could.

"Where are you from?" Merow asked, her eyes keen with interest.

"Charleston," she replied, then elaborated, "Big city. Near ocean."

The older woman nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer. "Family?"

Her throat tightened at the thought of her mother, despite their strained relationship.

"Mother," she said simply, leaving it at that.

The conversation flowed more smoothly than she expected. Merow didn't make any attempt to simplify her words and Kari found herself understanding more of them from the context, piecing together meaning from the other woman's gestures and tone as well as the vocabulary she'd learned so far. Her fingers itched for her notebook.

Merow said, nodding approvingly at her attempts.

"You learn quickly."

The praise warmed Kari as much as the bathwater, but eventually exhaustion began to weigh on her, her eyes drifting closed. Merow laughed and helped her out, handing her another one of the rough linen towels to dry off with before coming up with a gown, waving away Kari's efforts to thank her.

An enclosed passage led from the bathhouse to the main building and as Merow led her through it and up a wide set of stairs, she explained that most of the warriors shared the building.

"Then who lives in the other buildings?"

Merow laughed.

"Not all orcs are warriors, although all of them receive some training. We are farmers, craftsmen, herdsmen - just like any other holding."

"And the women?" she asked softly. "Where are they?"

Merow hesitated, then shook her head.

"I believe it would be best to let Wulf explain that to you. Now why don't you try and get some rest?"

The other woman ignored her attempt to protest, firmly leading her to the big bed and insisting she lie down. She hadn't intended to stay there, but she must have fallen asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

Now she frowned at the scene below, her earlier unease returning. Was this jubilation simply for Wulf's return? Or was it because of her? Why would they be so excited about a strange woman?

As she looked out at the celebrating orcs, a tear suddenly trickled down her cheek and the weight of her situation crashed over her. All the hopes she'd pinned on this journey, all the questions she'd pushed aside, came rushing back. The stark reality that this might be her new future could no longer be denied.

She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. The sounds of celebration from below seemed to mock her despair.

The door creaked open, and Wulf strode in, his large frame filling the archway. His eyes went straight to her, his expression shifting from joy to concern as he took in her distress.

He crossed the room in two long strides, pulling her into his powerful arms. She didn't resist, allowing herself to sink into the comfort of his embrace and she buried her face against his chest. His warmth seeped into her, and for a moment, his presence was enough.

His big hand stroked her back, his touch soothing despite the roughness of his calloused palms. He murmured softly in his language, the words unfamiliar but the tone reassuring.

She took a deep, shuddering breath, inhaling his comforting scent, now mixed with the smokiness from the bonfire, and pulled back slightly, looking up those dark green eyes. The concern in them both comforted and confused her.

"Why?" she asked softly. "Why am I here?"