Chapter 10
Savla
The storm rolled in fast that afternoon—thunder roared low over the rooftops and rain hit the tiles like a battle drum.
I’d shut the workshop door against the wind, and was trying to start a new piece that I’d been rolling around in my mind for a while, when I heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs leading to the roof.
I frowned, because there was absolutely no way that she would be foolish enough to come up to the workshop in stormy weather. I was certain of it.
Then the door to my workshop—that was usually open, but I’d closed because of the rain—banged open, and Hanna stumbled in. She was dripping wet and laughing like a lunatic.
“Savla!” she gasped, pushing her soaked hair out of her face. “It’s pouring out there!”
I just stared at her, not sure how to respond. She was drenched. Her cheeks were flushed and she was grinning like it was the best day of her life. I ignored the pang of longing in my chest. “Then why the hell are you here?”
She huffed, squeezing water out of her sleeves. “I was passing by and the rain started! I didn’t mean to intrude,” she defended.
“Passing by?” I raised an eyebrow. “We’re quite a few stories up from ‘passing by.’”
She grinned at me in that way of hers that made my idiotic heart flip. “Your logic is mean and unhelpful. Do you have a towel?” she asked, reaching up to squeeze water droplets from her hair.
I sighed, grabbed one from a peg, and tossed it her way. She caught it with both hands and immediately wrapped it around her shoulders like a cape. Ribbon hopped closer, croaking curiously at the puddle forming around her boots.
“Don’t even think about it,” I warned him.
Hanna crouched to pet him anyway. “Oh, let him! He’s just saying hello.”
“He’s saying he wants to sit in your puddle,” I huffed.
She laughed, looking up at me with that same bright, reckless smile. “He’s a creature of simple pleasures,” she told me, and in that moment, I wanted to be a creature of simple pleasures.
A male who could lean forward, help her dry her beautiful hair and then cuddle her close.
Warm her up and then steal a kiss from those perfect, pouty lips.
I shook my head, trying to pull myself out of those thoughts, and went back to the planer and piece of walnut I’d been working on, trying to focus, but the sound of her humming filled the space—low and soft, like a spell she didn’t mean to cast.
After a few moments of petting Ribbon—who had indeed confiscated her puddle—she wandered over to the workbench, her fingers trailing over a sculpture I’d been too stubborn to finish.
It was whittled from ironwood. A dense wood that had the gorgeous color the sculpture deserved.
It was difficult to carve figures into it, requiring strength and dexterity.
While I didn’t usually brag, I could admit that I had both of those things in spades. That was why I’d chosen the ironwood for this piece. A piece that for some reason was being ripped from inside if me.
It was of an orc and a female—standing back to back, both scarred but both still standing.
“This one’s different,” she said quietly.
I glanced over my shoulder. “It’s not finished,” I told her in the same quiet tone.
There was an intimacy in the moment that I didn’t appreciate, but craved.
“Still,” she said, studying it, “there’s something… sad about it.”
I hesitated, then said, “It’s not supposed to be.”
She looked up at me. “But it is.”
The rain filled the silence between us. I wanted to tell her that it wasn’t meant to be sad—it was meant to be real. That sometimes surviving didn’t look triumphant. Sometimes it just looked tired. But the words got stuck somewhere behind my ribs.
Hanna brushed a strand of wet hair from her face, smiling faintly. “You know, you’re easier to talk to when you’re not pretending to be scary.”
“I’m not pretending,” I huffed, frowning at her.
She arched a brow. “Savla, you make tiny metal flowers and feed bugs to a toad. Yes, you’re right. You’re terrifying.” The eye roll at the end of her statement was what did it.
I couldn’t help it—I laughed. A quiet, genuine sound that startled even me.
Her smile softened, and for a heartbeat, neither of us moved. The storm roared outside, thunder shaking the glass, and yet the workshop felt still—warm, alive and almost peaceful. Then Ribbon croaked loudly, and Hanna almost jumped out of her skin, breaking the moment.
“Well,” she said, wrapping the towel tighter around her shoulders. “I guess I’ll wait here until the rain’s over.”
“I guess you will,” I said. Swallowing hard, I looked over at the shelves that I’d stacked with extra shirts and pants in case I needed them.
It took me a long moment, but I eventually stood, grabbing one of my shirts for her and holding it out. Her eyes were huge in her face, but she took it, her fingers hesitant against mine. Glancing around, I gestured for her to go into the corner with the heater.
There ’weren’t any words between us, but there didn’t need to be. If I said anything, I wasn’t sure it would be the right thing, and she was probably embarrassed by my lack of social grace in a situation like this.
Extremely understandable.
With one more glance in my direction, she went to the corner I’d pointed to and made a spinning motion with her hand. Turning so fast that I might have given myself whiplash, I faced the other wall, the silence between us heavy with... I wasn’t even sure what.
The rustle of clothes was loud in the silence, and it ignited the fire in my blood that was always just banked when she was around.
The one that I’d been trying to smother since the first day I’d met her—scented her.
There was a hint of movement in the corner of my eye and I cursed the enhanced senses of my kind even as I realized that there was a slight reflection of her curves in the glass as she tugged her dress over her head. I almost lost my balance.
Fuck, Savla, have some Gods damned decency and don’t look.
It took the strength of twenty orcs, but by the time she tapped me on my back, I hadn’t peeked even once and she was wearing only my shirt.
I shoved aside the possessive satisfaction that was growing inside my chest—as well as the growing itch to stare at her for longer than I should have.
After all, I had no right to feel that way. She wasn’t anything to me.
Liar.
Ignoring the nagging voice inside my head, I gave her a firm nod before returning to my seat. I would not look at her beautiful curves outlined under my shirt. I would not focus on the way her hair was still moist, dampening the material over her breasts where it hung.
I did my best to look away, but I couldn’t help it if I had a warrior’s perception.
My peripheral vision was nearly as good as my central.
In fact, if anyone should be blamed for that, it should be the damn Gods in the first place, for giving us such superior senses.
I gave another stiff nod, and Hanna tilted her head at me as if studying me for signs of madness.
I went back to carving, trying to distract myself, but Hanna found a stool to sit on and it was so close to me that I almost cut myself with the carving knife.
Her scent, mixed with the rain, was screaming at me, begging me to turn to her and admit everything.
But I couldn’t, so I focused on not cutting my fingers into tiny pieces instead.
Ribbon made his way over to sit on her feet, settling in with slow movements, before his eyes drooped in what could only be described as pleasure—lucky bastard—as she started telling him a story about a talking broomstick that tried to overthrow her aunt’s kitchen.
And me—the great, disciplined warrior that I was—sat there listening like a fool, realizing too late that I didn’t mind being trapped with her at all.