Chapter 7
Sarah
I woke to silence.
Not the comfortable silence of the cabin settling around me, but the wrong kind of silence. The kind that made my heart kick into overdrive before my brain fully caught up.
Kael wasn't in the house.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
I sat up too fast, the room spinning slightly as exhaustion still clung to my limbs. Sunlight streamed through the bedroom window—stronger now, higher in the sky. I'd slept longer than I'd intended. Three hours? Maybe four?
"Kael?" My voice came out rough, scratchy from sleep.
No answer.
I threw off the blankets and stumbled to the bedroom door, yanking it open. The main room was empty. The fire had burned down to embers. His jacket was still draped over the back of the chair, but he was gone.
Panic clawed up my throat.
He left. He went outside and someone saw him. Dawson found him. He's—
Then I heard it.
Thwack.
The sharp, clean sound of an axe biting into wood.
Thwack.
I exhaled hard, pressing a hand to my chest where my heart was trying to break through my ribs. He was chopping wood. That was all. Just chopping wood.
I crossed to the window and peered through the gap in the curtains.
And promptly forgot how to breathe.
Kael stood in the clearing beside the cabin, his back to me, swinging the axe with smooth, powerful strokes. That alone wouldn't have been enough to short-circuit my brain.
But he'd taken off his shirt.
Oh my God.
Sunlight poured over him like liquid gold, highlighting every ridge and plane of muscle as he moved. His shoulders were impossibly broad, tapering down to a narrow waist. His back was a study in controlled power—muscles flexing and releasing with each swing of the axe, sweat gleaming on green skin.
He brought the axe down again, and I watched the way his entire body moved with the motion. Fluid. Graceful. Devastating.
Thwack.
The log split cleanly in two.
Heat flooded through me, pooling low in my belly. My mouth went dry. My fingers curled against the windowsill, and I couldn't look away—couldn't even think about looking away.
He was beautiful. Not in the way human men were beautiful, but in a way that was raw and primal and utterly, completely male.
And I wanted.
I wanted to touch him. Wanted to trace the lines of those muscles with my fingers. Wanted to know what his skin would feel like under my hands, whether it would be as warm as it looked in the sunlight.
I pressed my thighs together, trying to ignore the ache building there.
This was bad. This was so bad.
He was my client. A fugitive I was hiding from the law. We were trapped together in this cabin for five days, and I absolutely could not be having these thoughts about him.
But my body didn't care about logic. It didn't care about professional boundaries or the fact that this was the worst possible time and the worst possible person to be attracted to.
It just wanted.
Kael set another log on the stump and raised the axe. I watched the play of muscles across his back, the flex of his arms, the way his entire body coiled and released with devastating precision.
Thwack.
I bit my lip.
Then he paused, lowering the axe. His head tilted slightly, like he was listening to something.
And he turned around.
Our eyes met through the window.
For one frozen heartbeat, I couldn't move. Couldn't think. Could only stare at him—at the broad expanse of his chest, the defined ridges of his abdomen, the way sweat traced paths down his skin.
Then his nostrils flared.
Oh no.
Oh no, no, no.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
Orcs could scent arousal. I knew that. It was one of the first things Jordan had told us after she mated with Ruka.
And I was standing here, practically vibrating with want, and he could smell it.
Mortification crashed over me like ice water.
Kael's expression shifted—surprise flickering across his features, followed by something darker. Something that made my pulse kick into a gallop for entirely different reasons.
A slow, wicked smile curved his mouth.
No. Don't you dare.
I spun away from the window, my face burning. My hands were shaking. My entire body was shaking.
I needed to—I had to—
The front door opened.
"Sarah."
His voice was low, amused, and entirely too close.
I kept my back to him, staring very hard at the wall. "I was checking to make sure you were okay. You weren't in the cabin. I didn't know where—"
"Uh-huh."
I could hear the smirk in his voice.
"I'm making coffee." I moved toward the kitchen with jerky steps. "Do you want—"
"You were watching me."
My hands stilled on the percolator. "I was checking—"
"You were watching me chop wood." His voice dropped lower, rich with amusement. "And you liked what you saw."
"I have no idea what—"
"Liar."
I whirled around, which was a mistake. A huge mistake.
Because he was standing there, still shirtless, still gleaming with sweat, and he was smiling at me with that infuriating, knowing smile that made me want to simultaneously kiss him and kick him in the nuts.
"I was concerned," I said, lifting my chin. "You weren't in the cabin. I didn't know if something had happened."
"And then you saw me." He took a step closer. "And you couldn't look away."
"You're very full of yourself."
"And you're very flustered."
"I am not—" But my voice came out too high, too breathless.
His smile widened. "Your heart is racing. I can hear it from here."
"That's because you're invading my personal space."
"I'm standing three feet away."
"Well, it feels—"
"Closer?" Another step. Now he was only two feet away, and I could smell him—pine and smoke and something earthy and male that made my head spin. "Interesting."
I pressed back against the counter, gripping the edge. "Kael—"
"You know what else is interesting?" His amber eyes were fixed on mine, intense and curious. "I've flirted with half the women in Franklin. Your friends. Even that female deputy at the station."
My jaw tightened. "I'm aware."
"But I've never flirted with you."
The words hung in the air between us, sharp and pointed.
"I noticed," I said stiffly.
"Do you know why?"
"Because I'm your lawyer and you have some semblance of professional boundaries?"
"No." He tilted his head, studying me. "Because you're bossy."
I blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Bossy," he repeated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You boss people around."
Heat flooded my face—but this time it was anger, not arousal. "I am not bossy. I'm assertive. There's a—"
"Is there?"
"Yes! Being assertive means I'm confident and direct. Being bossy implies—" I gestured sharply. "I'm not bossy! You take that back!"
His smile turned absolutely wicked. "You're being bossy about being bossy."
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
And despite everything—despite the mortification and the anger and the fact that I was standing here arguing with a shirtless Orc who smelled my arousal—I laughed.
It burst out of me, unexpected and genuine, and once I started I couldn't stop. I pressed a hand to my mouth, but it didn't help. The laughter kept coming, shaking my shoulders, making my eyes water.
Kael watched me with an expression I couldn't quite read. Surprise, maybe. Or something softer.
"You're ridiculous," I managed finally, wiping at my eyes.
"And you're bossy."
"Assertive."
"Bossy."
I shook my head, still smiling despite myself. The tension had broken, shifted into something easier. Something that felt almost... normal.
"For the record," I said, "I'm assertive because I had to be."
His expression shifted, curiosity replacing amusement. "What do you mean?"
I hesitated, then sighed. We were stuck here together for five days. He'd already seen me at my worst—terrified, exhausted, flustered, aroused. What was one more vulnerability?
"My dad was a defense attorney," I said quietly. "In Atlanta. I wanted to be just like him when I grew up. He used to call me his little lawyer."
Kael was very still now, listening.
"He died when I was eight. Killed by one of his clients.
" The words came easier than I expected.
Maybe because I'd said them so many times before.
Maybe because the grief had dulled to a manageable ache.
"The guy who killed him was never convicted.
He got a shyster lawyer who lied about my dad and got him exonerated. "
"Sarah—"
"Mom and I moved to Franklin after that.
To be closer to my grandparents." I met his eyes.
"There was never a lot of money, but I wanted to keep my promise to Dad.
So when other girls were going to dances and proms in high school, I was studying for a scholarship.
I got one to Harvard. Full ride. But I had to work two jobs to cover living expenses, and I had to keep my grades up to keep the scholarship.
There was never time for... anything else. "
"And after you graduated?"
"I came back to Franklin and started building my practice.
Which meant long hours, networking, taking every case I could get.
" I shrugged, trying to keep my voice casual.
"I learned early on that if you're not assertive people will walk all over you.
Especially as a woman. Especially when you're young and trying to prove yourself. Especially when you're alone."
"But surely there were males," Kael said, his tone careful. "Someone who wasn't put off by that. By your strength."
I let out a short laugh. "You'd think, wouldn't you?"
He was quiet for a moment, and I could feel his eyes on me.
"There were a few," I admitted. "At first they seemed fine with it.
Interested, even. But then..." I traced the rim of my coffee mug with one finger.
"Then they'd start making comments. Little jokes about how I couldn't just relax.
How I made them feel like they were being cross-examined instead of having a conversation.
" I looked up at him. "One guy told me I'd be prettier if I smiled more and argued less. "
Kael's jaw tightened. "What did you say to him?"
"I told him he'd be smarter if he talked less and thought more." A ghost of a smile crossed my lips. "That was our last date."
I turned away, busying myself with straightening the already-straight coffee mugs on the counter.
"I've been on dates. But I could never...
" I trailed off, searching for the right words.
"There was always work to do, cases to prepare, clients who needed me.
And the men I dated—they wanted someone who could be...
soft. Vulnerable. Someone who didn't need to be in control all the time. "
My hands stilled on the counter. "I don't know how to be that person. I don't know how to just... let go."
The silence stretched between us, heavy with things I wasn't saying.
Then Kael said, very quietly, "You've never been with a male."
It wasn't quite a question, but it wasn't quite a statement either.
My face burned. "I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to." His voice was gentle, lacking the teasing edge from before. "The way you react when I get close. The way you pull away. It's not fear, Sarah. It's..."
"I've done things," I said quickly, defensively. "I'm not completely—I mean, I've—" I stopped, frustrated with myself. "I just never had time to develop the kind of connection where I could be that vulnerable with someone. And I'm not going to apologize for it."
"I'm not asking you to."
I risked a glance at him. His expression was serious now, thoughtful. Like he was seeing me differently.
"You're beautiful," he said softly. "And brilliant. And any male would be lucky to—" He stopped, jaw tightening. "You deserve someone who makes you feel safe enough to let go. Someone who sees your strength and doesn't ask you to be less than you are."
Kael took a step closer. Then another. Until he was right in front of me, close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.
"You deserve pleasure," he said softly. "And love. And someone who takes the time to know you. To see you."
My breath caught.
His hand lifted, hovering near my face like he wanted to touch me but wasn't sure if he should.
"You deserve everything, Sarah."
The air between us felt electric. Charged. Like one wrong move would set something off that neither of us could control.
I should step back. Should put distance between us. Should remember all the reasons this was a terrible idea.
But I couldn't move.
Couldn't breathe.
Could only stare up at him and wonder what would happen if I just—
No.
I ducked under his arm, putting the kitchen table between us. My heart was hammering so hard I thought it might crack a rib.
"I should—" My voice came out shaky. "I should make that coffee. And you should put a shirt on. Because if Dawson shows up and you're shirtless, he'll—"
"Sarah."
"Coffee," I said firmly, turning my back to him. "We both need coffee."
I heard him sigh. Heard his footsteps retreat toward the main room.
And I pressed my hands flat against the counter, trying to steady my breathing, trying to ignore the ache in my chest that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with wanting something I absolutely could not have.
Five days.
We just had to survive five days.
And I was already in so much trouble.