Chapter 5
Vorak woke me before dawn.
"Come," he whispered. "We don't have long. I can already feel it building."
He led me through the Keep to a path up the mountain. The morning air was crisp, clear. The path ended at a plateau with an incredible view. But what caught my attention was the garden. Vegetables, herbs, flowers. Completely unexpected.
"This is yours?"
"My secret. The only place I'm not General Vorak. Just Vorak." He moved between the plants with surprising gentleness. "Vera helped start it. Said warriors need to create, not just destroy."
"It's beautiful."
"It's necessary. When command gets too heavy, I come here to remember I'm more than death's instrument."
Watching him tend plants, I saw someone completely different. Someone peaceful.
"No one knows?"
"Now you do."
The trust in that made my eyes burn. "Why show me?"
"Tomorrow, I become the beast. I want you to remember this. To know there's more to me than violence."
"I'll remember."
We worked side by side in comfortable silence. Hands in soil.
"I think my mother gardened," I found myself saying. "Before she died. I barely remember her, but I remember the feel of earth on her hands."
"How did she die?"
"Fever. I was four."
"Your father?"
"Unknown. I used to imagine he was a great warrior who'd return." I laughed, bitter. "Childish."
"Hopeful."
"Same thing."
"No, hope keeps us alive. Childish dreams disappoint."
As we worked, the sun climbed higher, warming the earth. The scent of herbs mixed with wildflowers was intoxicating. Or maybe that was just Vorak's presence beside me, the memory of last night still singing through my body.
"You keep looking at me," he said, not looking up from the plant he was tending.
"Can't help it."
"Why?"
"Because I know what you look like when you come. Because I can still feel you inside me. Because—" I stopped, heat flooding my face.
He set down his tools and turned to me. "Because?"
"Because I want you again. Already. Even though I'm sore."
His eyes darkened. "Kaela—"
"I know. The rut's tomorrow. You need to save your strength. But—"
He kissed me, cutting off my words. When he pulled back, we were both breathing hard.
"Not here," he said.
"Why not?"
"Because if I take you here, in my sacred space, I'll never be able to come here without getting hard."
"And that's bad?"
He groaned. "You're going to be the death of me."
"But what a way to go."
He kissed me again, and this time his control slipped. He pressed me back against the soft grass between the herb beds, his weight settling over me.
"Just once," he said against my lips. "Quick."
"Yes."
He pushed my skirts up, found me already wet. "You're already ready for me."
"Always."
He freed himself, entered me in one smooth thrust. We both groaned. The soreness from last night made me more sensitive, every movement intense.
"Won't last," he warned, already moving.
"Don't need to."
The sun on our skin, the scent of earth and growing things, his weight pressing me into the grass—it was perfect.
He reached between us, thumb on my clit, and I came embarrassingly fast. He followed immediately, groaning my name against my neck.
"Now I'll never be able to garden without thinking of this," he said, but he was smiling.
"Good."
We cleaned up at the small stream that ran along the garden's edge, then ate the food he'd brought, overlooking the valley.
"Why haven't you married before?" I asked.
"Never felt connected. Sex was just physical release."
"And now?"
"Now I understand I was waiting."
"For?"
"Someone equally broken. Equally strong. You."
"You didn't know I existed."
"My soul did."
The romantic notion should have made me scoff. Instead, it made me ache.
"I don't know how to be a wife."
"I don't know how to be a husband. We'll learn."
We stayed in the garden until the sun peaked, then made our way back down the mountain path. With each step closer to the Keep, I could see the change in him—his shoulders tensing, his breathing deeper, his grip on my hand tightening.
Once in our quarters, he pulled away abruptly.
"You need to eat," he said, not looking at me. "Real food. As much as you can."
"I'm not hungry—"
"You will be. After." His hands clenched and unclenched. "I'm going to wash. Try to... cool the fire. Eat. Please."
He left for the bathing room before I could respond. The table held a full meal—meat, bread, cheese, fruits. More than I'd seen since capture. I forced myself to eat, knowing he was right. Whatever was coming would demand energy.
When he returned, his hair was damp, skin flushed despite what must have been a cold bath. He stood in the doorway, gripping the frame.
"I can feel it. Fire in my blood."
"What do you need?"
"You. Just you. One more time while I'm still me."
He lifted me onto the bed, spread my legs, and devoted himself to my pleasure. His mouth, his fingers, working me with desperate dedication. He made me come three times before entering me, and then it was slow, deep, his eyes never leaving mine.
"Look at me," he said as he moved in me. "Whatever happens, whatever I become, remember this. Remember that beneath the beast, I'm still here."
"I'll remember," I gasped, reaching up to touch his face. "You're not just the rut. You're the one who tended my ankle. Who showed me your garden. You're Vorak."
"Say my name again."
"Vorak." I pulled him down for a kiss. "My Vorak."
"Yours," he agreed against my lips. "And you're mine. Whatever happens during the rut, you're mine." His hands tightened on me, almost painful. "I want to promise I won't hurt you. Every part of me wants to swear it. But I—" His voice cracked. "I don't know what I'll do. What I'll become."
"I know the risks."
"Do you? I could break you without meaning to. Lose myself completely in the need to claim, to breed, to possess." His forehead pressed against mine. "I will know you, somewhere deep inside. But that knowing might not be strong enough."
"I'm tougher than I look."
"I know. It's the only reason I'm not chaining myself in the dungeons instead." His laugh was bitter. "The king would never allow that anyway. This is entertainment for them. Betting on whether my human bride survives."
The vulnerability in his voice, the fear mixed with desperate need, broke something open in me. Not love, not yet, but something fierce and protective and real.
We came, quiet and intense. He held me after, both of us knowing what was coming.
"Distance. Can't—" He doubled over, groaning. When he looked up, his eyes had darkened. "Starting now. Earlier than it should."
"That happens?"
"When the bond is strong. The rut recognizes its mate." Another groan. "Run."
"No."
"Kaela—"
"No. I'm your wife. Your mate. I stay."
He lifted me, carried me to bed. "Last chance—"
"No."
"You don't understand what you're accepting."
"I'm accepting you. All of you. Even the parts that scare you."
He kissed me, and I tasted the change. Wild. Desperate.
He pulled back. His eyes were completely black.
Vorak was gone.
The rut had begun.