Chapter 4

4

D rafli was going to kill her.

Eben froze to shocked, horrified stillness, as alarm blared and screeched behind his eyes.

Never trust a Skai , never trust a Skai …

Drafli’s head whipped around toward Eben with sudden, deadly purpose, his eyes snapped to narrow slits, his lip curled to show all his sharp teeth. As if he would kill Eben , too, without hesitation or regret — and Eben needed to run, to hide, to collapse the nearest tunnel behind him. Or maybe dash back into the latrine and cower in a corner, wait for the sweet scent of human blood to filter through the air…

But no. No . He couldn’t. He couldn’t . The woman was a patient, she was defenseless, she was Eben’s responsibility. And that certainty was enough to make Eben draw in a shaky, shallow breath, to focus his hazy eyes on the vicious, murderous Skai with the dagger. The Skai who looked so, so different from how he’d looked only a short time ago, when he’d tended to his distraught mate with such intent, ardent care.

And that was something, something, and Eben drew in more breath, desperately gathered his courage. “ It will n-not — work,” he croaked, into the empty, crackling silence. “ To break the s-scent-bond. You will only — h-hurt your mate.”

Drafli’s flashing eyes darted back toward Baldr’s sleeping body in the bed, and Eben clutched for the doorframe at his side, and hauled down another breath. “ Y -you would not wish him b-bonded to a corpse in a crypt,” he gulped. “ And you would not wish him to — know, with every scent, that this was — your doing. This should — p-poison you, and him, and this — this deep trust you have, between you. This — gift.”

He was fully trembling by the end of it, his claws clattering against the stone of the doorframe. And for an instant, staring at Drafli’s coiled body, Eben was certain he would still do it. He would slit the woman’s throat, and then hurl the dagger straight at Eben , too…

But then, Drafli — closed his eyes. Tilted his head back, as if in a brief, desperate prayer. And then he spun and stalked for the door, his shoulders rigid, his gleaming dagger still clasped tightly in his fist. And that might have been a faint, visceral shudder, quivering up his bare back, as he spun into the corridor, and vanished from sight.

Fuck . Eben didn’t know how long he stood there, clinging to the wall, staring at the empty doorway, while his heart hammered sick and dizzying in his throat. Never trust a Skai .

He only vaguely noticed Efterar and Kesst finally returning to the sickroom, both their scents reeking of exhaustion. And though neither of them spared Eben a glance before falling into their own bed together, it was enough that Eben could somehow move again, could pry his numb fingers from the doorframe, and then stagger toward the door. Toward the Ka -esh wing. Toward — the dyflissa .

As always, it offered distraction and relief and pain, and as many dominant, powerful orcs as Eben could ask for. Some of them seeking his pleasure, some of them only his screams — but no matter how much Eben begged for more, none of it was strong enough to fully clear the chaotic mess clouding his thoughts. And finally he dragged his sore, sweaty, bloody body back through the long corridors to his cold, empty bedroom.

Foolish , he told himself, as he lay there alone in his hard bunk, the pain pulsing through his torn back, his still-slack arse. Foolish . He’d done his job tonight, he’d helped protect his patient, and that was all. And in truth, he’d faced far worse throughout the course of his career as a medic, hadn’t he? He’d witnessed horrifying grief and pain and regret, he’d wept as he’d heard dying orcs’ last words, he’d saved and lost too many lives to count. So why did he even care so much about these damned Skai ? Why was he still thinking about that laughing orc from the corridor, all these weeks later? Why was he still caught on this, trapped in this, when he had his own life, his own work, and as many willing Ka -esh lovers as he could ever ask for?

You never focus on what is important , Eben could still hear his father saying, with his typical frustration and disappointment leaching bitterly through his scent. You waste your talent and your time. You do a deep disservice to all your Ka -esh kin. You show yourself foolish and weak.

Eben sighed and shoved over in the bed, yanking the blanket off his sore back, but the ache was still there, scraping across his skin, wrenching deep in his belly. He’d tried, with his father. He’d tried so hard to please him, to study mathematics and geology, to become a master Ka -esh engineer. Just as his father had been, and his father before him.

But it had been such dull, dreary work, dragging at Eben’s energy and his motivation. And his spare time spent with human anatomy books and medical research had been so much more intriguing, with so many more unexplored possibilities. There was just so much about orc biology that was yet fully unknown — from their inherent healing abilities, to the many properties of seed and saliva and blood, to the mysteries and devastating dangers of orc-human reproduction.

Eben’s own mother had died during his birth, which he knew had happened in wartime, in highly unsanitary conditions deep underground. And thanks to his studies, he’d also learned that his own relatively small size was due at least in part to the fact that his mother would have seen little sun during her pregnancy, if at all — and she’d likely been lacking in the crucial nutrients humans needed from fruit, grains, and cooked meat.

And perhaps it was Eben’s guilt and grief over his mother’s death that had kept driving him back to those human textbooks again and again. Seeking out the answers that could help prevent such unnecessary deaths in the future, and maybe even help rebuild their species. And eventually Eben had progressed to making his own notes, too, keeping his own journals, and hiding it all from his increasingly enraged father.

You told them you wish to specialize in medicine, like a human? his father had demanded after a particularly trying day, during which a teenage Eben’s distraction on a tunnel dig had led to the loss of three entire days’ work. You told them you wish to never dig a tunnel again?!

Eben certainly hadn’t meant to admit such things, let alone to fellow students who had become increasingly contemptuous toward him and his intelligence. But the grating endless tedium had been so strong, so utterly overwhelming, that he’d finally confessed it all to his father between gulping, gasping sobs. I want to study medicine. I care about it, and I’m good at it. I want to learn, and help people. I want to help save our kin.

His father had listened in stony silence, his scent hardening with every breath, and when Eben had finally finished, his father had raised himself tall, and pointed at the door. Get out , he’d said. And do not return here or speak to me again, until you come to your senses.

So Eben had left their familiar hellir , embedded deep with the scents of his ancestors, and with many scents of his own far happier childhood. And he’d gone as far away as he could, to the very edge of the Ka -esh wing, and found a small, dry room to sleep in. And he’d been here ever since, summer after summer, changing his path whenever he scented his father nearby, and averting his eyes whenever they met in a corridor. Until one morning he’d realized he hadn’t scented his father in many days, and when he’d finally dared to return to the hellir , he’d found his father gravely ill and incoherent, scenting of whispering death.

So Eben had cared for his ill father with the full extent of his knowledge, easing the pain with the strongest herbs, bringing him fresh blood to drink, moving him regularly, even licking his bedsores to help him heal. And while it had without question made his father’s final weeks more peaceful, it still hadn’t saved his life — and Eben still didn’t know if his father had even recognized him, let alone understood all that he’d done.

Eben was somehow weeping into his fur, the water streaking off his face in hot rivulets, the ache clutching again and again at his heaving chest. And here was the damned vision of the Skai again, smiling at him, so confident, so certain, so… pleased. So blithely, genuinely pleased by Eben’s bringing his clanmate tonic, to the point where he’d offered his help. Maybe even his… pleasure.

Ach , I see. Good of you to bring it. Just come back if you get lost. I can show you the way.

It again heated in Eben’s belly, so starkly, impossibly powerful, and tangling with it now were the clashing visions of Drafli , too. Cradling his lost mate so tenderly in his arms, drawing out his pleasure with such focused, single-minded purpose, as if he would never stop caring for him, would never hurt him or let him go…

And the way he’d stood over that sleeping woman, with pure hatred in his eyes, and his dagger flashing over her throat. Ready to kill a weakened, already-wounded patient, to snuff out her entire life, because she’d committed the unforgivable sin of being rescued by his mate, and succumbing to an orc-induced biological response she surely hadn’t even known existed.

Never trust a Skai . Never let one touch you, or get you alone…

But Eben’s sobs wouldn’t stop coming, wracking through his aching body again and again and again. Until finally they drew him down with them, and locked him into lonely, empty sleep.