7. Torain
CHAPTER SEVEN
TORAIN
“ T hanks again, Torain!” Poppy said as I hefted the new sidewalk sign into place. “This’ll catch so many more eyes than that ratty old chalkboard.”
I grinned, admiring my handiwork. The wooden A-frame gleamed with fresh varnish, ‘The Cooling Rack Bakery’ carved in flowing script along the top. “Anything for Silvermist’s best baker. Though don’t tell Carissa I said that—she’s been stress-baking enough to give you a run for your money.”
Poppy’s eyes twinkled. “My lips are sealed. Now shoo! I’m just here for you, and I’ve got to man my station again soon.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I gave a mock salute, my mind already drifting to Carissa as I ambled down Main Street.
It had been days since I’d followed her deeper into the stacks, days of stolen moments and heated glances. Every second not devoted to work found me at Spines & Spirits, ‘helping’ with inventory or deliveries. Really, I was addicted to the way Carissa’s eyes lit up when I walked through the door, to the quiet moments when she’d lean into me while poring over paperwork.
To the way she trembled beneath my hands when I pulled her into dark corners for a taste.
Fuck, I was in deep.
Still, Tate’s pressure campaign continued to boil. Every day brought new “emergencies” for Carissa to handle. Surprise inspections. Suddenly due invoices. I’d even caught the snake lurking outside Spines & Spirits more than once, watching the place like a vulture eyeing its next meal.
But Carissa was tougher than he knew. And today, we’d show that asshole what happened when you messed with my mate.
“There you are!” Luna’s voice snapped me from my thoughts. She and Stella flanked me as I crossed the street, matching my stride easily. “We were starting to think you’d chickened out.”
“As if I’d miss this.” The distant sounds of music and chatter reached my ears, but the source remained hidden behind the row of shops. My chest swelled with pride. We’d pulled it off. “How’s it looking?”
Stella grinned, canines glinting in the afternoon sun. “Last few stragglers are being herded in now. Honestly, some people have no sense of community spirit.”
“Yeah,” Luna chimed in, “don’t they know there’s free food?”
“You two sound way too excited about hunting down our neighbors.” I shot them a sideways glance. “Should I be worried?”
“Please.” Luna rolled her eyes. “We’re professionals.”
“Exactly,” Stella chimed in. “We only bite paying customers.”
“So, when were you planning to tell your chief you’re defecting?”
I nearly jumped out of my skin at Osen’s voice. My brother leaned against a lamp post as we rounded the corner, arms crossed and expression unreadable.
The twins melted away, leaving me to face my brother alone.
Heat crawled up the back of my neck. I hadn’t even told Carissa my plans yet. Hadn’t quite admitted them to myself. But trust Osen to see right through me. “I’m not—” The denial died in my throat as he raised an eyebrow. “How did you know?”
He snorted and landed a brotherly punch to my shoulder. “Please. You’ve been in town more than the village lately. Taking on extra commissions. Scheduling everything around Silvermist deliveries. Ring any bells?” His grin widened. “Plus, you roped my mate into this whole scheme. Of course I know.”
“I’m not defecting,” I muttered. “I’m just... exploring options.”
Osen’s expression remained neutral. Waiting.
I stopped and turned to him, squaring my shoulders as I launched into the speech I’d been rehearsing. “Look, I’ve been thinking. The clan’s woodworking could be so much more. You hear the customers at Mist and Market—they’re always asking about regular store hours, a place to browse that loads faster than ten pixels per year.” I took a deep breath. “I want to open a storefront. Here. In Silvermist.”
Osen folded his arms over his chest and listened intently as I laid out the plans I’d picked over long into the night. A proper showroom for our larger pieces. A workshop where customers could watch carving demonstrations. Maybe even classes, get the humans and other supernaturals interested in orc craftsmanship.
I faltered as I reached the end of my spiel. Osen’s silence stretched between us, and I found myself filling it. “I want to make this work,” I admitted, the words coming slower now. “I want to make this work with her.”
Something softened in my brother’s face. “What about the apprenticeship in Vancouver?”
I scrubbed a hand over the back of my head and winced. Of course he knew about that, too. Clan chiefs talked, even new ones like Osen. I’d been an idiot to think simply never mentioning the idea again would make it disappear.
“What, and miss your mate taking wrecking balls to the place? Not a chance.”
I tried to make light of it, to ease the weight settling on both our shoulders. But we both recognized the gravity of that long-ago decision. The fork in the road I’d chosen, sacrificing my own ambitions to support my brother. To support the clan.
“Torain.” Osen’s voice was quiet. “You didn’t have to stay for me.”
“I know. But you were taking over the clan, and I couldn’t just—” I rolled my shoulders, but the pressure just wouldn’t shake. “I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.”
To him. To our home.
The memory of our father.
“And all this?” He gestured vaguely toward the gathering crowd and tents lining the street.
My jaw clenched. “I won’t let that snake steal anything from her.”
“Why didn’t you come to me?” There was no accusation in Osen’s tone, just genuine curiosity. “I could have?—”
“I know.” I cut him off, struggling to put my thoughts into words. “I needed to prove I could do this. To myself. And to her.” I met his eyes. “Not as the chief’s brother. Just... me. That I can show up. Be reliable. Make things happen.”
Understanding dawned in his expression. He knew better than anyone how I’d struggled with that—being the flaky younger brother, the dreamer, the one who needed extra deadline padding.
Pride shone in Osen’s eyes, and he clasped my shoulder. “The orc you’ve become... Father would be proud.” He squeezed once before releasing me. “You take lead on this. Whatever you need from the clan, just say the word.”
I nodded, throat suddenly tight. I hadn’t realized how much I needed his approval until that moment. “Thanks, brother.”
“So.” He jerked his chin toward the gathering. “Ready to show your mate what you’ve been plotting?”
A grin spread across my face. “Let’s go save a bookstore.”
The past three days had been a whirlwind of secret meetings and called-in favors. Beverly’s book club mobilizing their considerable social influence. Miranda brewing specialty potions for Poppy’s baked goods. The twins strong-arming—sometimes literally—reluctant participants into cooperation.
All coming together for one spectacular “Save Spines & Spirits” block party.
Complete with local vendor booths, live music, and a silent auction featuring work from every artisan in town. Even Galan had contributed a piece, though he’d grumbled the entire time.
And Carissa had no idea.
Doubt suddenly gnawed at my gut. What if she hated surprises? What if this was too much, too soon? Fuck, what if she still wanted to leave?
I shook my head, banishing the spiraling thoughts. No. Carissa had agreed to stay and give us a chance. And I was going to show her exactly why that was the right choice.
The bell above the door chimed as I entered. Carissa’s scent hit me immediately—vanilla and cinnamon layered with the earthiness of old books. She leaned over the counter, backend of a pen scanning along whatever legalese she read through. Her hair hung loose around her shoulders, the strands catching in the late afternoon light.
Gorgeous.
Her head whipped up, and I basked in the genuine smile that split her face. “Torain!” She glanced at the register clock, eyebrows shooting together. “You’re early. Way, way early.”
I crossed the room in two strides and pulled her against me. “Missed you,” I murmured, nuzzling into her neck and breathing deeply.
She melted into me for a moment before startling at a particularly loud burst of music filtering through the windows. “What is happening out there? Did I miss the memo on another event?”
“Sounds like trouble.” I fought to keep my expression neutral. “Want to check it out?”
She hesitated, eyeing the stack of papers. “I really should finish?—”
“The paperwork will still be here in an hour.” I wiggled my fingers. “Come on, sugar. Live a little.”
Her expression softened. She placed her hand in mine, letting me tug her away from the counter. “Fine. But only because you’re impossible to ignore when you get that look.”
I pressed a quick kiss to her temple and pulled her toward the door. “Smart woman.”
We rounded the corner, and Carissa gasped. The entire town square had been transformed. Colorful banners hung between lampposts. A small stage had been set up at one end, where the band was testing their sound equipment. Local vendors hawked their wares from decorated booths. Even Vanin had set up a small bar, advertising “Bookworm Brew” with a sly wink in our direction.
And everywhere, signs proclaimed “Save Spines & Spirits!”
“What...” Her voice cracked. She cleared her throat and tried again. “What is all this?”
“This?” I wrapped my arm around her waist, drawing her close. “This is Silvermist Falls showing up for one of their own.”
Beverly materialized from the crowd, brandishing a collection box. “There you are! I was beginning to think we’d have to start without you.” She stuffed a handful of bills into the box with a flourish. “We simply can’t let Tate Gerrard get his hands on our beloved bookstore. Why, where else would we hold book club?”
As Beverly wandered off, muttering about finding more cash, Carissa turned to me. “You did this? All of this?”
“The fundraiser isn’t the only offering,” I explained, leading her through the crowd. “I’ve been busy offering my carving services and cutting deals.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What kind of deals?”
“The kind that keep Tate from screwing you over.” I ticked them off on my fingers. “I’m your new local supplier for shelving and displays. Vanin’s keeping you stocked in booze. Poppy’s handling baked goods for events. Chelle’s doing weekly palm readings in exchange for you carrying her protective book covers.”
“They’re the shit,” Molly chimed in as she passed, arms laden with boxes.
I grinned. “And Miranda’s keeping your impulse buy displays stocked with candles and lip balms and other things she swears are necessary and not at all nepotism.”
Carissa slowed to a stop. When I turned, tears shimmered in her eyes. “Torain, I… Thank you.”
I pressed my forehead to hers. “I told you at Paint-and-Sip. Anything for little Carissa.”
She grabbed my shirt and pulled me down, crushing her lips to mine. I wrapped my arms around her waist, lifting her slightly as I deepened the kiss. Someone—probably the twins—whistled, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.
When we finally broke apart, both breathing hard, I pressed my forehead to hers again. “Ready to go save your store?”
She nodded, determination replacing the uncertainty in her eyes. “Show me where to start.”
The rest of the day passed in a blur of introductions and negotiations. I hung back, content to watch as Carissa worked her magic. She might think herself an outsider, but I saw how naturally she fit into Silvermist’s rhythm. The way she lit up discussing books with Beverly’s book club. How she actually laughed at Luna and Stella’s terrible puns. The genuine interest she showed in Miranda’s “definitely not magical” products.
This was my mate. Strong. Brilliant. Finally embracing the chaos and finding her place in our little community.
“Torain!” Zral’s voice cut through the crowd. “We need your help with the stage!”
I started to decline, but Carissa squeezed my arm. “Go. I need to grab more flyers from the store anyway. Paint-and-Sip is already half booked for next month.”
“You sure?”
She rolled her eyes and gave me a playful shove. “I think I can manage a quick errand without supervision. Go fix things before we have a disaster on our hands.”
I caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. “Don’t take too long. I’ve got plans for you later.”
Her cheeks flushed beautifully as she hurried away. I watched until she disappeared into the store before joining Zral at the stage.
The repair didn’t take too long—but then a tent needed new stakes, and another booth had too much wobble for the owner’s taste. By the time I took a breath free of someone’s request, the sun had begun its descent toward the horizon.
I scanned the crowd for Carissa, frowning when I didn’t spot her.
She should have been back by now.