Chapter 5 #2
As I did, I felt Brooke’s gaze on me, and shifted my attention across the circle, where she stood beside her sister and mother. When Giza spoke again, I kept my eyes on her.
“Palton the Hunter, keep us fed.”
“Palton the Hunter,” I repeated with the rest of the crowd, “keep us fed.”
Giza stepped closer to the fire, his hands raised again to create shadows on the orcs and humans standing behind him, and his voice rose. “Malla the Beginner, smile over us!”
Even I could feel the energy present. I couldn’t say if it was the gods, or the fire, or the night, or the souls of those around us. “Malla the Beginner, smile over us!”
Could Brooke feel it too?
From the way her lips were parted, the intense way she watched from across the circle, I suspected she could.
“Now,” Giza said more quietly, slowly lowering his hands to his belt.
“The final tradition of the Solstice Circle is even simpler. This is mistletoe.” He lifted a branch about the size of his forearm and flourished it, ensuring the crowd could all see.
“It fruits from fall into spring. This means we see the white berries in the bleak heart of winter, and is important to our people, who called it vakkalt.” He inclined his head to Korrad.
“I had to consult with our new friends to discover the human name for it, but we both agree we have the right plant.”
Without hesitation, he tossed it into the fire. “At the solstice, we ask for the gods’ blessings in the coming year and give praise for surviving through the darkest part of the winter. We offer them greens and life to remind them what we value, our sacrifices showing our intent.”
Everyone watched as Korrad and Jay approached, tossing two fir branches onto the fire, and I wondered if I should have put aside some for offerings. Oh well, make a note for next year.
Memnon, Abydos’s younger brother, whom I’d never met before arriving on the island, stepped up to the fire with his Mate and tossed holly on the fire. Memnon’s twin, Simbel, followed with his family.
When it was clear no one else was prepared to throw green growing things on the fire, Giza stepped forward again.
“The mistletoe we can get here on Eastshore isn’t the same variety that most of us remember from our childhoods, but it turns out that humans have similar myths surrounding it.
” He winked at his Mate. “Apparently, if you catch a willing female under a bough of mistletoe, you’re allowed to give her a kiss. ”
“A kiss?” an unseen male called out from the crowd. “I remember it being a bit more than a kiss.”
The gathered group laughed and called out suggestions and nudged one another, and I watched Mates give each other knowing looks or slip their arms around each other. And my chest ached as I caught Brooke’s gaze again.
Had she ever thought about kissing me?
“If your Mate is willing to let you catch her beneath the boughs of mistletoe hung throughout the trails,” Giza announced, “then you two can do whatever you’re comfortable doing.”
A satisfied roar rose from the opposite side of the circle, and my eyes widened when I realized it had come from normally taciturn Abydos. It was quickly picked up by the other males, and even I felt my Kteer urging me to join in.
“What are we waiting for?” bellowed Cairo, swatting his Mate—the perpetually cheerful baker from town—on the butt. “Get running, Mate!”
Laughter rang out as the females around the circle sprang into motion, some faster than others as they ducked into the dark woods. And I stood there, rooted in place by the bonfire, digging my claws into my palms, staring at Brooke, and doing everything I could to tamp down on my Kteer’s urgings.
Chase claim taste Hunt pin taste CLAIM.
Brooke
Well, I couldn’t deny that the solstice ceremony was a little…intense. Even I could feel the charged anticipation around me. It seemed to skitter across my skin like little prickles. Or perhaps that was Sylvik’s gaze.
If so, what was I anticipating?
All I knew was that I’d felt as if I’d been holding my breath all evening.
Then, when grumpy Cairo declared the Hunt started, and everyone around me sprang into motion, I found myself wrapping my arms around my middle, trying to stay out of everyone’s way.
One moment, Riven and Abydos were at my side, and the next, she was gone with a lingering laugh, and Abydos disappeared a moment later.
Mom chuckled and patted me on my shoulder. “I love their attachment to nature, but I’m not sure I could be quite the exhibitionist your sister is.”
Exhibitionist? I squinted, but couldn’t see or hear anything from the dark woods around us. There were plenty who still stood around the bonfire, including most of the unMated newly arrived orcs, but everyone laughed and joked and pretended they didn’t know what was going on beyond the shadows.
“I’m going back to the house to enjoy those heat lamps and another cup of that chowder,” Mom said. “Do you want anything? There’s hot cocoa.”
The reminder of Deb’s Mistletoe Mistake briefly caught my interest, but I realized my stomach was too knotted to appreciate it, even if there was a chance I could replicate the flavor combination.
I found my gaze flicking across the fire to land on Sylvik. His body was rigid as he faced the darkness, and I wondered what he was searching for. “Um…no, but thanks. I’ll hang out here.”
Mom waved goodbye, and I drifted toward a few of the women I recognized. Harper and Rissa were both Mated, each of them holding one of Tanis and Olivia’s twins, and I raised my brows as I approached. “Why aren’t you running around out there, trying to break your legs?”
Harper, the town’s lawyer, laughed and jerked her free thumb toward her Mate, Giza, who was crouched down, allowing two little girls to pat the baby he wore on his chest. “We volunteered for babysitting duty so the parents could have a bit of fun. That’s Aswan’s daughter and Sakkara’s daughter—they’re best friends. ”
Rissa was busy cooing at the wide-awake toddler in her arms, but she glanced at me with a smile.
“And we’re not out there because Simbel is trying to set a good example for our son.
” She jerked her chin toward the clean-cut orc who had his arm thrown around a tall teenager’s shoulders and appeared to be lecturing the kid.
“About the line between primal urges and respecting women.”
“Oh God,” I groaned good-naturedly. “That must be embarrassing for both of them.”
“It is for Patrick. I think Simbel gets a kick out of going into excruciating detail about consent—comes from years as a New York City detective. I told him he’s paying for future therapy sessions.”
I chuckled, but as the conversation continued, my gaze sought out Sylvik.
There! He was pacing just outside the circle of the fire’s light, his movements tense, strength barely contained.
Tonight he wore a fleece pullover—at least he wasn’t in danger of freezing to death—but he’d pushed the sleeves up to reveal those forearms I loved so much.
His hair seemed mussed, as if he’d dragged a hand through it, and he kept having to remove his glasses to wipe the lenses, as if they were fogging up.
Why was he so agitated?
Briefly, I marveled at the fact that I could tell he was agitated, despite knowing him for such a short amount of time. It had only been a few weeks—
Yeah, but you’ve spent a lot of time together in those few weeks. Planning the wedding. Planning this event. Teaching him about Christmas traditions…
Hmm.
Maybe I did know him better than I thought.
“Joshy? Joshy!” A boy’s panicked cry broke into my thoughts, and all the adults remaining at the bonfire turned to see Aswan’s oldest son searching frantically about. “I can’t find Joshy!”
“Who’s Joshy?” I murmured as Giza grabbed the boy.
“Ben’s little brother, Hannah’s youngest.” Rissa was frowning in worry as she stepped closer to the fire. “I’m sure he’s around. He just has a tendency to get into trouble.”
“I’ll check in the woods,” I immediately offered, and darted to my left. I don’t even know if she heard me, I was in such a hurry.
Rissa was likely right; he was too young to wander far, but I’d rather be safe than sorry. I jogged through the darkness, lit by the occasional lantern, calling softly for the boy. “Joshy? Joshua honey?”
Suddenly, I became aware of the pounding of feet behind me. I glanced over my shoulder but of course couldn’t see anything.
I’m not sure why I began to run faster, throwing my strength into my legs, but…it seemed instinctual.
Whoever chased me sped up too, and I found an extra reserve of strength, speeding through the trails, past lanterns and hanging boughs of mistletoe. I thought I heard the sounds of couples in the shadows—moans and panting and whimpers of pleasure—but I didn’t stop.
Couldn’t stop.
I remembered what Rissa had said about primal urges and realized that’s what this was.
And then, with a grunt, a big body slammed into me, lifting me off my feet. Before I could scream, he’d flipped me around and pressed me against a large oak.
A large oak with a large dangling bough of mistletoe, inexpertly tied above us.
My heart was pounding overtime, and my lungs couldn’t work and—
He pressed his body against mine, lifting me, and his mouth crashed into mine with a loud groan.
And I knew then.
Sylvik.
I didn’t bother hiding my answering moan of surrender as I wrapped my arms around his neck and urged him closer, deepening the kiss.
His lips were smooth and wide and fit mine perfectly.
When his tongue slid over mine, I whimpered in shock—it was ridged.
Good God, it was ridged? How would that feel if he moved it over my body?
I groaned again as his big hands closed around my waist, lifting me further. If I hadn’t been wearing my winter coat, the bark of the tree would have scraped me, but he used his body to pin me there.
Primal.
Was this what the Mating Hunt was about? This frantic desperation? The urges to do something entirely primitive, like sink my teeth into him and not let him go?
Sylvik’s mouth moved across my skin, my jaw, my throat, and then his big hand slid beneath my coat and closed around my breast, and I bucked against him as pleasure shot straight to my core. I lifted one leg and wrapped it around his hip, urging him closer closer closer…
The thick bar of his erection pressed against my belly as he squeezed my breast, sending a sharp spike of need through me.
My pussy flooded with desire, and he growled and flexed his cock against me.
I nearly crowed with joy. This! This is what I’d been dreaming of all these weeks!
Knowing he wanted me as much as I wanted him!
Didn’t he?
Wait.
Dread settled in my stomach as I realized what I was doing, responding to his touches like a desperate bitch in heat.
Sylvik was polished, controlled, logical, methodical.
And I was the complete opposite. Chaotic and spontaneous. It was just like me to go running off into the night, but Sylvik wouldn’t do that sort of thing. No matter how amazing this felt, I had to assume it was because he’d been caught up with the ceremony…a ceremony I didn’t belong in.
“Sylvik!” I gasped, wrenching my mouth away from his, even as my hips continued to rock of their own accord, chasing that delicious pressure from his cock against my clitoris. “I—the boy!”
“Found him,” he growled, mouth moving down my throat, his tongue branding me. “Other side of the fire.”
This didn’t even sound like the Sylvik I’d come to know. He sounded muddled, confused, dangerous. My hands rested on his shoulders, and I forced myself to breathe deeply, to tamp down on my desperation to yank down my jeans and panties and let him touch me.
Because I wasn’t the kind of woman guys like Sylvik went for. I knew that—Ethan had taught me that. I was too messy, too chaotic, too spontaneous. The only reason he’d chased me tonight had to be because of the Mate Hunt.
But we weren’t Mates.
“Sylvik!” I managed to gasp, pushing the heels of my hands against his shoulders. I felt the moment he realized what I was doing because he stiffened.
He inhaled and lifted his head, and I saw the struggle for control written on his face. “Brooke?” he rasped.
I saw the confusion on his face, and my heart broke, because I knew what it meant; he hadn’t planned on this. Hadn’t wanted this, had just been following his…his primal urges.
Swallowing, I pushed against him again, my mortified gaze locked on his chin, and felt him deflate.
“Apologies.” His voice sounded stiff, awkward, as his hand left my breast to drop to my waist, lifting me away from the tree, away from him.
When my feet touched the ground, I swayed, my hands clutching his arms, desire and confusion making me wobble. “This was a mistake,” I gasped, tipping my head back, peering up into his face, begging him without words to tell me I was wrong. “You were just…caught up in the chase?”
Sylvik yanked his glasses off and scrubbed a hand down his face, then looked away as he slid them back on. “A mistake,” he repeated dully, and my heart sank.
He gestured back toward the bonfire where the others gathered. I could tell how much he wanted to stalk off, but the Sylvik I knew wouldn’t abandon me out here in the darkness. The Sylvik I knew wouldn’t chase me through the night, blood pounding in desperation, body slick with arousal.
Would he?
I glanced down at his hips, where his erection pressed against the front of his trousers, then back up at the mistletoe that dangled above us.
And wondered if it had been a mistake.