Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Sylvik
I didn’t sleep that night, and trust me when I say it was definitely the longest night of the year. Don’t get me wrong; I’d intended to sleep. Although it was late when everyone finally left, I spent a while cleaning up, then took an incredibly hot shower and climbed in bed…
And tossed and turned for hours.
Eventually I gave up and began pacing, and even that wasn’t enough to dim the frenzied agitation coursing through my limbs.
Or do a damn thing for my cockstand.
Yeah, the fucking thing would not abate. I could distract myself for a moment or two…and then something would trigger the memory of Brooke’s lips beneath mine, or the sweet scent of her arousal, or the way she gyrated against my hard cock, and I’d groan in frustration.
I think I jerked off four times, until my shower and bedroom smelled of cinnamon orc-cum, and it didn’t help.
What in all the hells was wrong with me?
By the time dawn began to lighten the sky over the ocean, I’d given up sleeping—or managing to focus on anything—and stalked to the front room.
My keys were on the credenza beside the potted Christmas tree—the one Brooke helped me decorate, the one currently perfuming my house with eau de ejaculate, and me unwilling to toss out those disgusting little cinnamon ornaments because she made them…
My hand hovered over the keys, but I ultimately decided to walk to Garrak’s.
My brother would help me. It was what he did.
My walk to Garrak’s turned into a jog, then a run.
I’d always done my best to maintain a neat image in public, especially once Abydos hired me.
It was one of the things Garrak teased me about, but since he was a mining foreman, it was no wonder he didn’t mind a little grease on his hands or rips in his jeans.
Today? He wouldn’t recognize me.
My breaths were coming heavy as my heels slammed against the pavement, and I rounded the corner toward the new condo building Eastshore had built last year as some sort of compromise between the residents who wanted a bunch of tourist traffic and those who wanted the island to stay the same.
The cool air meant I wasn’t dripping with sweat, but my T-shirt was sticking to my back, and my hair was likely as wild as my eyes.
I took the stairs up to the fifth floor, and I took them three at a time.
It was only when I stood there, fist raised to bang on Garrak’s door, that I managed to drag some control back from my Kteer and remind myself that it was first thing in the fucking morning, and there were people sleeping all around me.
My knock was quieter than it otherwise would have been.
It took three knocks before my keen hearing picked up the sound of Garrak’s grumbling coming closer. He was usually up early, but I must have interrupted his morning shower or something. For a moment I felt a spark of guilt…before my Kteer grabbed a hold of my conscience once more.
When my brother—yep, he’d definitely been showering, and hadn’t taken the time to dry off, judging by how his pajama pants stuck to his wet skin—finally opened the door, I pushed my way past him.
“Finally.” I hadn’t meant to growl that, but I couldn’t seem to control myself.
“I’m sorry.” I wasn’t making any sense. “Shouldn’t have bothered you so early. ”
“No, you shouldn’t have.” Garrak dragged a hand through his still-wet hair as he padded toward the kitchen. “Want something to eat?”
“Not hungry,” I managed as I paced.
His only response was a grunt from where he stood in front of the stove, and again, I felt a surge of guilt at bothering him this early in the morning, even if it had been a good bet he’d already been awake.
But I couldn’t seem to slow down, to think, to figure out what was wrong.
So I paced as he yawned and scratched his ass through his flannel pants and stretched.
Whenever he stepped, the bottom of the pants swished aside to reveal the shiny titanium of his artificial leg, and I hated that he’d had to take the time to strap it on for me.
The time after that accident, the one that had devastated the company in more than one way, had been horrible.
I’d known he would survive—he was too strong to succumb to something stupid like three tons of rocks falling on him—but it had been painful to watch him learn to walk again.
I realized I was staring. I also realized this was the first time I’d been truly still since…since last night.
Before my Kteer could growl in my chest and send me pacing again in agitation, Garrak was there with a steaming mug. When he thrust it at me, and I instinctively took it, I realized it wasn’t the usual coffee he drank, but chaga tea.
The achingly familiar aroma filled my nostrils, and I felt myself beginning to relax as I inhaled. “Your mother used to make this for me.”
Garrak watched me through the steam of his own mug. “She was your mom too.”
“Yeah.” When I exhaled, I felt even more of the tension leaving me, and I sipped the tea. Ah. The familiar warmth and earthiness spread through my limbs. “I miss her.”
“Me too.” He was studying me with a slight twist of his lips. “She would’ve loved Eastshore—not the lack of snow, but seeing so many of our people here.” He nodded as he used his tea to give a little salute. “And it’s a fucking shame she can’t be here to see you like this.”
I shook my head and gulped more tea. “Like what? Agitated? Confused? I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Garrak!”
He didn’t offer me any insight. “What happened last night?”
With the mushroom tea anchoring me, at least I no longer felt the need to pace. I wrapped my hands around the mug, forcing myself to keep my breaths even and deep. “I kissed her,” I managed. “I kissed Brooke.”
Kiss.
That wasn’t a strong enough word for what I’d done. That guilt was creeping back, and I looked up to meet Garrak’s nonjudgmental gaze.
“She pushed me away,” I whispered. “I kissed her, and she kissed me back, but then she pushed me away.”
My brother hummed and sipped his tea. His nonchalance rubbed at me, the same as that itch I’d been feeling this past week. I found myself clawing at the front of my shirt as my sweat dried, trying to dig into my chest and find this irritation.
“Why did she push me away?” I hated how plaintive my rasp sounded. “Why do I feel like I’m going to tear myself apart from the inside?” I met Garrak’s dark gaze in desperation. “What’s happening to me?”
“I don’t know why she pushed you away, T’mak…” Garrak wasn’t the only one to call me Little Brother, but he was the only one who didn’t piss me off when he did so. Now he crossed to me and clasped me on the shoulder with the hand not holding the mug. “But you need to figure it out.”
“Why?” I croaked.
“Because.” His grin was crooked as he tipped his head to one side. “This is the Mating Heat. Your eyes are glowing, your Kteer is trying to control everything you do, and until you claim her, you’re not going to be able to concentrate.”
I think I’d stopped paying attention after the word Heat.
“Mate?” I blurted, then shook my head, not caring when the tea dribbled onto my shirt. “I just met Brooke! She can’t be my Mate.”
Garrak shrugged and squeezed my shoulder. “Mom used to say it could be sudden—that’s how it was with her and my father, gods keep him.” His grin flashed again. “She always wanted grand-kitlings and would be thrilled to hear this.”
Mate. “Brooke…” I murmured, dazed. “She…we’re not Mates.” But my brother seemed so certain, and a part of me dared to hope as I looked up and met his dark gaze. “She’s just visiting—heading back to L.A. after the new year. She pushed me away.”
Garrak nodded once before dropping his hand and lifting his mug once more. “Then you’d better figure out why, T’mak. Because you’re not going to get any peace until you claim her.”
Claim taste Hunt now claim fuck now now now.
The urges pounded through my body in time with my heartbeat, and I groaned as I tipped my head back to stare at my brother’s ceiling. “She’s not my Mate,” I told my Kteer loudly.
I didn’t believe myself.
“Want to use my shower?” Garrak called from the kitchen. “I’m making pancakes, because if I have to make polite conversation this early, there damn well better be pancakes involved.”
“No,” I mumbled, having a vague idea that I needed to log into my computer. Garrak, as always, understood what I needed better than I did, and snorted.
“I just texted Abydos that you wouldn’t be working today either.”
He didn’t ask; he’d just informed my boss that I would be taking the day off? I groaned again.
“Go take a shower, T’mak. You know where the clean clothes are. I’ll be out here when you’re ready to talk.”
The chaga tea—and memories of our mother—had helped, but…Mate? I shook my head and stalked toward the large bathroom attached to the single bedroom. Another hot shower, another swift hand-fuck, and maybe I’d be able to face the day calmer, with logic.
I snorted as I dragged my shirt over my head and tossed it in my brother’s hamper. Logic didn’t seem possible these days, and the explanation was even more difficult to believe.
Mate?
Impossible.
Brooke
“Focus, Brooke! I told you to flood the cookie, not stab it!”
I frowned down at the snowflake-shaped sugar cookie on the counter in front of me, then jabbed my toothpick into it. “That’s what I’m doing,” I grumbled at my sister.
Riven’s loud sigh ruffled my hair a moment before she snatched the toothpick from my fingers. “You’re stabbing it.”
“I’m poking it. You said poking was part of the flow.”
“Flood,” she corrected, bumping me out of the way with her hip and bending over my workstation. “You just sort of…gently…nudge the icing to the edges of the cookie. Like this.”
“That’s what I was doing.” At this point, I was objecting merely on older-sister principle. Lord knows I was never going to be as meticulous as Riven was when it came to icing cookies. “I can be careful.”