Chapter 9
Sarah
The hike up the mountain was quiet. Too quiet.
The mountains stretched out around us in a riot of autumn color—brilliant reds and burnt oranges, deep golds and russet browns.
The maples were at their peak, their leaves like flames against the evergreens that dotted the ridgeline.
Below us, the valley was a patchwork quilt of color, layer upon layer of rolling hills fading into the blue-gray distance.
It was breathtaking. The kind of beauty that made you understand why people wrote songs about these mountains, why they called them ancient and sacred. The air was crisp and clean, carrying the scent of decaying leaves and pine sap, of earth preparing for winter's sleep.
A hawk circled overhead, riding the thermals above the ridge. The morning sun filtered through the canopy, casting dappled shadows across the trail. Everything felt alive, vibrant—the world putting on one last spectacular show before the cold set in.
I should have been lost in it. Should have been drinking in the scenery, appreciating the raw beauty of this place.
Instead, all I could think about was the man walking beside me.
Kael walked beside me on the narrow trail, close enough that I felt the heat radiating off him in the cool morning air. Neither of us had mentioned last night. Neither of us had acknowledged the offer that hung between us like smoke—invisible but impossible to ignore.
I kept my eyes on the path ahead, focusing on the placement of my boots on the uneven ground. Anything to avoid looking at him. Anything to stop thinking about what he'd said in the darkness.
What if I could show you what it's like? What if I could teach you about pleasure?
My pulse kicked up just remembering his voice, low and deliberate and devastatingly honest. I'd barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I imagined what it would feel like to say yes. To let him touch me. To surrender the control I'd held onto so tightly for so long.
The thought made heat crawl up my neck. Kael's nostrils had been twitching since we left the cabin—subtle little flares that told me he knew exactly what I was feeling.
That he could scent my arousal like it was written in neon across my forehead.
Attention! Sarah is horny! I probably smelled like the inside of a bordello.
I couldn't help it. I'd been aroused since the moment I woke up thinking about him.
He was the most gorgeous male I'd ever seen.
Seven feet of raw strength and surprising sweetness, amber eyes that saw too much, and a voice that made promises I desperately wanted him to keep.
The way he'd looked at me last night—like I mattered, like I was worth the risk—had undone something fundamental inside me.
But wanting him and acting on it were two very different things.
"You okay?" Kael's voice broke the silence, careful and neutral.
"Fine," I said too quickly. "Just... thinking."
"About?" His tone was innocent, but I caught the hint of amusement underneath.
You. Your offer. What it would feel like to let you touch me.
"The autopsy report," I lied. "We should be able to get reception at the clearing up ahead."
"Mmm." The sound was noncommittal. "Your heart's racing."
"It's a steep trail—"
"And your scent's been changing all morning."
Heat flooded my face. "That's—you can't just—"
"I can, actually." Now he was definitely amused. "Orc senses, remember? You smell like—"
"Don't." I held up a hand. "Don't finish that sentence."
"Like you've been thinking about me." He said it anyway, the bastard. "A lot."
"I have not—"
"Sarah." He stopped walking, and I had to stop too or run into him. "You're a terrible liar."
I glared up at him. "You're enjoying this."
"Immensely." His grin was infuriating. "So what were you thinking about? Specifically?"
"The autopsy report—"
"Try again."
"My legal strategy—"
"Nope."
"Whether we have enough firewood—"
"Sarah."
"Fine!" I threw my hands up. "I was thinking about you. Happy?"
"Very." He started walking again, and I had to scramble to keep up. "What about me?"
"You're insufferable."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only answer you're getting."
He laughed—actually laughed—and the sound did dangerous things to my heart.
We climbed higher, the trail steepening as we approached the ridge. My thighs burned with the effort, my breath coming faster in the thin mountain air. Kael moved beside me with effortless grace, his breathing barely elevated. Of course. Orc stamina.
I tried very hard not to think about what that stamina might mean in other contexts.
The clearing opened up suddenly—a flat expanse of rock and scrub grass with a view that stretched for miles. The mountains rolled away in layers of red and gold, morning mist clinging to the valleys below. It was beautiful. Peaceful.
I pulled out my phone, watching the signal bars flicker to life. Two bars. Good enough.
I opened my email, scrolling through the messages that had accumulated overnight. Spam. A client inquiry. A reminder about a court date next week that I'd probably miss. And... nothing from Dr. Atkins.
"Anything?" Kael asked, standing close enough that I felt the warmth of his shoulder near mine.
"Not yet." I checked the date at the top of the screen and felt something shift in my chest. "It's October 30th."
"Okay?"
"Tomorrow's Halloween." I looked up at him, an idea forming. "Jordan was planning a party, right?"
Kael frowned slightly. "Yeah. I didn't really understand what she meant."
"It's a holiday where everyone dresses up in costumes.
There are parties, decorations, kids go trick-or-treating for candy.
" I remembered last year clearly—the crowded streets, the music, the creative costumes.
"Last year, Tori, Kelsey, Jordan, and I came to Gatlinburg.
The whole city turns into one giant party. "
"Sounds chaotic."
"It is. In the best way." I was warming to the idea now, my strategic brain already running scenarios. "And there were so many people dressed as Orcs. Some of the costumes were really convincing."
His expression shifted, understanding dawning. "You're saying—"
"You could blend in. Walk down the main street and no one would look twice."
"That's insane."
"Is it?" I turned to face him fully. "We've been at the cabin for two days—"
"And we're safe here—"
"And going stir-crazy." I gestured between us. "The cabin fever is getting ridiculous. We need a break."
"It's too risky."
"It's Halloween in a tourist town. Thousands of people in costume. You'd be invisible."
"Sarah—"
"I have my costume in the car. The one I was planning to wear for Jordan's party. We could—"
"No."
"One night where you're not hiding—"
"Absolutely not."
"Where you can just exist like a normal person—"
"There's nothing normal about this situation—"
"You deserve that, Kael." I cut him off, my voice going quiet. "One night where you don't have to keep looking over your shoulder."
He stared at me, and I noticed the war in his eyes—want versus caution, desire versus practicality.
"Why?" he asked finally. "Why would you risk it?"
Because you matter. Because I want to give you something good before this all falls apart. Because three more days alone in that cabin with you and I'm going to do something I can't take back.
"Because it's Halloween," I said instead. "And everyone deserves one night off."
The wind picked up, carrying the scent of pine and distant wood smoke. Kael was quiet for a long moment, his gaze moving from me to the mountains spread out below us.
"Does Halloween make people act crazy?" he asked, his tone somewhere between curious and suspicious.
"Sometimes," I admitted. "Why?"
His eyes found mine again, and there was something almost amused in his expression despite the tension. "Because you're being spontaneous and irresponsible, and I'm the one trying to be the responsible adult here. That seems backwards."
I felt heat creep into my cheeks. "I'm not being irresponsible—"
"You're suggesting we walk into a crowded town where anyone could recognize me, where one wrong move could blow everything." He raised an eyebrow. "That's the definition of irresponsible."
"It's calculated risk—"
"It's reckless." But his voice had softened, and I saw the corner of his mouth threatening to curve upward. "I'm supposed to be the impulsive one. You're supposed to be the one talking sense."
"Maybe I'm tired of being sensible," I said quietly.
Something shifted in his expression—that heat I'd seen last night flickering back to life. "That," he said, his voice dropping lower, "is what worries me."
"Okay," he said finally. "We'll go."
Relief and terror hit me in equal measure. This was either brilliant or catastrophically stupid, and I wouldn't know which until it was too late.
But as we started back down the trail toward the cabin, I couldn't shake the deeper truth that had been haunting me since last night.
I wasn't scared of the sex. I had no doubt it would be fabulous with Kael—mind-blowing, probably. Earth-shattering.
What terrified me was what came after. The vulnerability. The inevitable hurt when he walked away. Because in three days, the autopsy report would clear him, and he'd go back to his life. Back to his world.
And I'd be left here, in mine, with nothing but the memory of what we'd almost had.