Chapter 10
Kael
I was waiting by the Jeep when Sarah stepped out of the cabin, and every coherent thought I'd ever had evaporated.
The costume was... Gods. It was a deep burgundy dress that laced up the front, pushing her breasts up in a way that made my mouth go dry.
The neckline plunged low enough to make my pulse kick into overdrive, and the skirt hit mid-thigh, showing off legs I'd been trying very hard not to think about.
Her shoulders were bare, pale skin practically glowing in the fading light, and she'd done something to her hair—pinned it up with loose curls framing her face.
She was supposed to be something called a saloon girl. She looked like sin wrapped in velvet.
"Don't say a word," she warned, her cheeks already flushed as she locked the cabin door.
I couldn't help it. "I was going to say you look nice."
"Liar." But she was smiling as she walked toward me, and I caught the shift in her scent—arousal mixed with nervousness, like she wasn't sure if wearing this was a good idea but was committed now.
"Fine," I said, opening the passenger door for her. "You look like every fantasy I've ever had and a few I didn't know I was allowed to have."
"Kael—"
"You told me not to say a word. I said several." I grinned at her flustered expression. "Get in the Jeep, counselor. We're going to be late."
The restaurant was a three-story building that pulsed with energy—live music pouring from somewhere inside, the smell of smoke and meat thick enough to taste.
Every table was full of people in costumes: vampires and zombies and superheroes and things I didn't have names for.
The noise was overwhelming in the best way—laughter and conversation and the clink of glasses, all of it blending into a chaotic symphony that made my Orc senses light up.
We got a table on the second floor overlooking the stage, and I watched Sarah relax into her chair, her eyes bright as she took in the scene.
I also watched every male eye in the place track her movement.
The vampire at the bar. The cowboy near the stage.
The group of younger human males at the table beside us.
Even the waiter who came to take our order let his gaze linger a beat too long on the curve of her breasts, the exposed skin of her shoulders.
I didn't know why I worried about being recognized.
No one looked at me twice with her by my side.
My jaw clenched.
It wasn't jealousy—not exactly. Sarah wasn't mine. This wasn't real. But the Orc part of me, the part that had been raised in a culture where claiming and protecting were instinctive, didn't care about the semantics. It saw a female I wanted being appreciated by other males.
A low rumble built in my chest before I could stop it.
"Kael?" Sarah's voice cut through the haze. She was looking at me with concern, her head tilted slightly. "You okay?"
I forced myself to breathe, to unclench my fists where they'd tightened on the edge of the table. "Fine."
Her eyes narrowed. "You're doing that thing—"
"Where my nostrils flare?"
"Yes, that." She glanced around, then back at me, understanding dawning in her expression. "Oh. The costume."
"It's not the costume," I said, which was only partially a lie. "It's everyone looking at you like—"
"Like what?"
"Like they want to devour you."
She blinked, color rising in her cheeks. "That's... dramatic."
"That waiter just mentally undressed you—"
"He did not—"
"Twice."
"You can't possibly know that."
"Orc senses, remember?" I leaned back in my chair, forcing myself to relax even though every instinct screamed at me to do something territorial and stupid. "I can smell his interest from here."
"People are looking at everyone. It's Halloween." But there was a faint spike of pleasure in her scent now—like she wasn't entirely opposed to the idea of me being possessive.
"Right," I said, not believing it for a second. "You're right."
She reached across the table, her fingers brushing mine. "For what it's worth—"
"You're only here with me?"
"I was going to say that, yes." Her smile turned mischievous. "But now you've ruined it by being smug."
"I'm not smug—"
"You're very smug."
"I'm protective—"
"Possessive."
"Is there a difference?"
"Yes," she said, but she was laughing now, and the sound settled something in my chest. The rumble faded.
"Good," I said, meeting her eyes. "Because if that waiter looks at you like that again—"
"You'll what? Challenge him to a duel?"
"I was thinking I'd order everything on the menu just to make him keep coming back so I can glare at him."
Sarah laughed, shaking her head. "You're ridiculous."
"You like it."
"Maybe I do."
The barbecue arrived first—ribs glazed in something sweet and smoky, pulled pork that fell apart at the touch of a fork, brisket so tender it melted on my tongue.
I'd thought the grilled cheese was good, but this...
this was something else entirely. The flavors were complex, layered, the kind of thing that made you want to close your eyes and just experience it.
And then came the fried green tomatoes.
I stared at the plate. "These are tomatoes?" Sarsa grew those in her garden, but they were always red and juicy when they made it to the table.
"Try one," Sarah said, amusement dancing in her eyes.
I picked one up, bit into it, and—
"Fuck!"
She laughed, the sound bright and unguarded. Gods, I loved that sound. "Good?"
"Good?" I ate another one, then another. The outside was crispy and golden, the inside tart and firm, and there was some kind of sauce drizzled on top that tied it all together. "This might be better than grilled cheese."
"High praise," she teased.
"I'm serious—"
"I know you are. That's what makes it adorable."
"Adorable?" I raised an eyebrow. "I'm seven feet of Orc warrior. I don't do adorable."
"You're doing it right now." She gestured at my plate. "You've eaten six of those and you're making little happy sounds."
"I am not—"
"You absolutely are."
I looked at her across the table—her face flushed from the warmth of the restaurant, her smile genuine and easy, the way her fingers played with the stem of her wine glass—and something in my chest tightened.
This was temporary. Two more days, and then we'd be gone. Back to my life, back to the village, and she'd be back to her life and career.
But right now, she was here. Laughing at my reaction to fried green tomatoes. Wearing a dress that made me want to do very stupid things.
I was going to savor every second of this.
Gatlinburg at night was chaos.
We stepped out of the restaurant into a river of people—costumes everywhere, music spilling from every doorway, vendors selling roasted nuts and funnel cakes and things I couldn't identify but smelled delectable.
The street was lined with orange lights and fake cobwebs, jack-o'-lanterns grinning from every storefront.
My senses were on overload. Every sound, every scent, every flash of movement—it was dizzying and exhilarating and completely overwhelming.
"You okay?" Sarah asked, her hand finding my arm.
I looked down at her, at the concern in her eyes, and nodded. "Yeah. It's just... a lot."
"Good lot or bad lot?"
"Good," I said honestly. "Really good."
We started walking, and that's when I noticed them.
Orcs. Or rather, people dressed as Orcs—some with cheap rubber masks and badly painted skin, others with elaborate costumes that almost looked real. And then there were the ones who were real.
I caught the eye of a male across the street. He was dressed in human clothes, blending in with the crowd, but I knew him instantly. Our eyes met, and he gave me a single, respectful nod. An acknowledgement, brother to brother, and moved on.
It happened again a few minutes later—a female Orc I didn't recognize, probably from one of the other mountain clans.
Her eyes widened slightly when she saw me before she dipped her head in silent understanding.
And again with another unknown Orc male, who looked like he wanted to say something but thought better of it.
My brothers and sisters, scattered through the crowd, watching me with a human woman while I hid from the law.
The weight of it settled heavy in my chest.
"Kael?" Sarah's voice pulled me back. "You're quiet."
"Just thinking," I said, forcing a smile. "About how right you were. I could walk down the middle of the street and no one would look twice."
She squeezed my arm. "Told you."
I looked down at her—at the way the lights caught in her hair, at the curve of her smile, at the bare skin of her shoulders that I desperately wanted to touch—and felt something shift inside me.
She'd given me this. This night, this freedom, this moment of playful normalcy.
A group of human males passed us, their eyes lingering on Sarah in a way that made my jaw tighten. One of them said something I didn't catch, and his friends laughed. Sarah didn't seem to notice, but I did.
I stepped closer to her, my hand moving to the small of her back in a gesture that was pure possessiveness.
She looked up at me, surprised. "Kael?"
"Just making sure no one bumps into you," I said, but we both knew that was bullshit.
Her scent shifted—arousal spiking, her heartbeat quickening—and I had to fight the urge to pull her into the nearest alley and kiss her until neither of us could think straight.
"You're staring," she said softly.
"I know."
"People are going to notice."
"Let them."
She bit her lip, and I watched the movement like it was the most fascinating thing I'd ever seen. "Kael—"
"I know," I said again, quieter this time. "Two days. And then we're back to reality. But right now, I'm here. With you. And I'm not going to pretend I don't want to be."
Her eyes searched mine, something vulnerable and raw flickering across her face. Then she smiled—small and uncertain and so damn beautiful it hurt.
"Okay," she whispered.