Chapter 17
Kael
I felt sick.
Not physically—I'd never felt stronger in my life. But something was wrong with me. Something that made my chest ache like I'd been kicked by a mule, that made my skin feel too tight, that made every breath feel like I was drowning.
I knew what it was. I'd known from the first time I'd kissed Sarah.
The mate bond.
Unrequited. Unacknowledged. Eating me alive from the inside out.
It was old magic. Magic that had died while we were underground cut off from nature.
Or so we'd thought.
Elder Sarsa had pulled me aside three days ago, her ancient eyes sharp and knowing in her weathered face. She'd taken one look at me and made a sound somewhere between sympathy and satisfaction.
"It's happening again," she'd said, her voice crackling like dry leaves. "The old magic is returning."
I'd stared at her, not understanding. Not wanting to understand.
"First Ruka," she continued, settling onto the bench outside the community hall. "Then Argon. Now you." She'd reached out with one gnarled hand and pressed it to my chest, right over my heart. "The fated mate bond. I can feel it in you, boy. Burning like a forge fire."
"That's impossible," I'd said, even as my heart had started racing. "The mate bond died generations ago. When we were cut off from—"
"From the earth. From the sky. From the natural magic that flows through all living things." Sarsa had nodded. "Yes. But we're not underground anymore, are we? We're here. In the sun. In the wind. Connected to the world again."
She'd looked out over the village, her expression distant. "The bond is strongest with the human females. Ruka with his Jordan, Argon with his Tori. And now you..." Her eyes had found mine again. "With your Sarah."
"She's not mine," I'd said automatically, the words tasting like ash.
Sarsa had laughed, a sound like wind through bare branches.
"Oh, child. She is. Whether she knows it yet or not.
The bond doesn't lie. It doesn't fade. The old magic is returning, Kael.
But it's different now. Stronger, perhaps, because it's bridging two worlds.
Two species. The bonds between Orcs and humans...
" She'd shaken her head in wonder. "They burn brighter than anything I've seen in my long life. "
I'd wanted to ask her more. Wanted to demand answers, solutions, some way to make this stop hurting. But she'd already been walking away, leaving me with nothing but the ache in my chest and the terrible, desperate hope that maybe—maybe—Sarah felt even a fraction of what I felt for her.
Seven days without seeing Sarah, without touching her, without breathing in her scent of vanilla and steel. Seven days of barely sleeping, barely eating, barely functioning like a rational being.
I wanted to see her so badly it was killing me.
But she'd made the rules. What happens on the mountain stays on the mountain. This is just sex. No feelings. It's over when we return to normal life.
And I'd agreed. Because I was an idiot who thought I could handle it. Who thought I could take what she offered and walk away when it was done.
I'd been so fucking wrong.
I was sitting in Argon's workshop behind his house, watching him sand a piece of wood that would eventually become part of a dollhouse for Viola's room. The rhythmic scraping sound should have been soothing. Instead, it made me want to punch something.
"You look like hell," Argon said without looking up from his work.
"Thanks," I muttered, running a hand through my hair. "That's really helpful."
"I'm serious." He set down the sandpaper and turned to face me, concern etched across his expression. "And you smell like you haven't showered in three days."
"Two days," I corrected. "I've been busy."
"Doing what? Moping?"
I glared at him. "I don't mope."
"You're moping right now." Argon crossed his arms, leaning back against his workbench. "This is about Sarah, isn't it?"
Just hearing her name made my chest constrict. I looked away, focusing on a knot in the wood grain of the floor. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Too bad. We're talking about it." His voice softened. "Kael, you're my brother. I can see you're suffering. Let me help."
"You can't help," I said, the words coming out harsher than I intended. "No one can. It's—" I broke off, swallowing hard. "It's the mate bond, Argon. And it's not reciprocated."
Silence. Then, quietly: "Are you sure about that?"
I laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Pretty sure. She made it very clear what this was. What we were. Just sex. No feelings. Over when we came back to the real world."
"And you agreed to those terms?"
"What choice did I have?" I stood up, needing to move, to pace, to burn off the restless energy crawling under my skin. "She was offering me something I wanted more than breathing. I wasn't going to say no."
Argon watched me pace, his expression thoughtful. "Have you told her how you feel?"
I stopped mid-stride. "What?"
"Have you told Sarah that you love her? That she's your mate? That you want more than just sex?"
"She knows," I said, but even as the words left my mouth, they felt hollow. "She has to know. I've shown her. The way I touch her, the way I look at her, the way I—"
"Kael." Argon's voice was patient but firm. "Human females aren't like Orc females. They can't scent emotions the way we can. They can't read intentions through touch and body language alone."
"But—"
"They need to hear the words, brother. They need you to say it out loud."
I stared at him, something cold settling in my stomach. "You think she doesn't know?"
"I think she might suspect. Might hope. But unless you've actually told her—with words, clearly and directly—she doesn't know for certain." He moved closer, putting a hand on my shoulder. "And human females... they need reassurance. They need to hear it."
"I can't," I said, the admission tearing out of me. "Argon, I can't tell her. What if she doesn't feel the same? What if I say it and she—" I couldn't finish. Couldn't voice the fear that had been eating at me for days.
"What if she rejects you?" Argon finished gently.
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
"Then at least you'll know," he said. "At least you won't spend the rest of your life wondering. And Kael—" He squeezed my shoulder. "From what I've seen... I don't think she's going to reject you."
I thought back to the last time I'd seen her—the night of the celebration after the case was dismissed. We'd sat with our friends eating chili and drinking ale. Sarah had laughed at someone's joke, her face flushed from the warmth of the fire and the alcohol. She'd seemed relaxed. Happy, even.
Then she'd stood abruptly, gathering her things. "I need to head out," she'd said, her smile apologetic but distant. "I've got a busy few days ahead."
I'd walked her to her car, my soul restless at the thought of her leaving. "Are you sure you're okay?" I'd asked, unable to help myself. "Dawson—"
"I'm not worried about Dawson," she'd cut me off, a hint of amusement in her voice. "Not after what you did. The way you threatened him..." She'd shaken her head, something like admiration flickering in her eyes.
Honestly, I wasn't too worried either. Dawson had pissed himself—I'd smelled it, sharp and acrid beneath the fear-sweat. He wouldn't be coming near Sarah again anytime soon.
But then she'd hugged me. A quick, friendly embrace. The kind of hug she gave Tori. The kind she'd give any friend. Casual. Platonic. Safe.
"I'll see you later, Kael," she'd said, already pulling away, already putting distance between us.
Not "I'll miss you." Not even a lingering look.
Just the kind of goodbye you'd give someone who meant nothing more than friendship.
I'd stood there in the parking lot, watching her taillights disappear, feeling like I'd been gutted.
"Or maybe she was scared," Argon suggested. "Maybe she's as terrified as you are."
I wanted to believe that. Wanted it so badly it hurt.
"Tell me what happened," Argon said, guiding me back to the workbench. "At the cabin. What were these rules she made?"
So I told him. Everything. The cabin, the intimacy, the way she'd laid out her boundaries. The way I'd agreed because I was desperate for any piece of her she'd give me. The way it had felt like dying when she walked away.
"She said it was just sex," I finished, my voice rough. "That what happened on the mountain stayed on the mountain. That it was over when we came back to the real world."
Argon was quiet for a long moment. Then: "And you believed her?"
"What?"
"Did you believe her when she said it was just sex? When she said she had no feelings?"
I thought about it. Thought about the way Sarah had looked at me in those quiet moments. The way she'd touched me like I was precious. The way she'd cried in my arms and let me see her vulnerable.
"No," I admitted. "I didn't believe her. But she said it, and I had to respect that."
"Respecting her boundaries is important," Argon said. "But Kael, sometimes humans say things they don't mean because they're protecting themselves. Because they're scared of being hurt."
"So what am I supposed to do?" The question came out desperate. "Just tell her I love her, that she's my mate, and hope she doesn't run?"
"Yes," Argon said simply. "That's exactly what you do. You tell her the truth. You give her the choice. And then you trust that she's brave enough to choose you back."
"And if she doesn't?"
"Then you'll survive it. It'll hurt like hell, but you'll survive." He smiled sadly. "But I don't think it'll come to that. I've seen the way she looks at you, brother."
I wanted to believe him. Wanted to let myself hope.
Before I could respond, the sound of small feet pounding across the workshop floor made us both turn.
"Daddy!" Viola came running, her dark curls bouncing with each step, arms outstretched. She launched herself at Argon, who caught her easily, swinging her up into his arms with a laugh that transformed his entire face.
"There's my girl," he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Did you finish your drawing?"
"Uh-huh! Mama's putting it on the wall!" Viola beamed at him, then her bright eyes landed on me. Her smile faltered. "Uncle Kael, why do you look so sad?"
My chest tightened. Of course she'd notice. Tusklings always did. "I'm not sad, little one. Just thinking."
"About what?" She tilted her head, studying me with an intensity that reminded me so much of Tori it was uncanny.
"Grown-up stuff," I said, forcing a smile. "Nothing for you to worry about."
Viola's expression turned serious, far too serious for a child her age. "Do you love Aunt Sarah?"
I froze. Argon's eyebrows shot up, and I saw him fighting back a smile.
"I—what?" I managed.
"Aunt Sarah," Viola repeated patiently, as if I were the child. "Do you love her? I heard Mama and Daddy talking about it last night."
Heat crept up my neck. "Viola, that's... it's complicated."
"No it's not." She shook her head, curls bouncing. "If you love her, you should just kiss her. That's what Daddy did with Mama, and now they're married and I have a daddy." She said it with such simple certainty, such pure logic.
I looked at Argon helplessly. He was grinning now, not even trying to hide it.
"She makes a good point," he said.
"You're not helping," I muttered.
Viola reached out from Argon's arms, patting my cheek with her small hand. "It's okay to be scared, Uncle Kael. Mama says being brave means doing things even when you're scared."
Gods, this child. I'd never seen Argon happier than he was with her, this little girl who called him Daddy now, who'd chosen him just as much as he'd chosen her. She was my niece in every way that mattered, and I adored her.
"You're pretty smart, you know that?" I said, my voice rough.
She nodded solemnly. "I know. Mama says I get it from her."
That startled a laugh out of me, breaking through some of the tension in my chest. "Your mama's right."
"So you'll kiss Aunt Sarah?" Viola pressed. "Tonight?"
I met Argon's eyes over her head. He gave me an encouraging nod.
"Yeah," I said softly. "Yeah, I will."
"Good." Viola smiled, satisfied. "Because Aunt Sarah looks sad too sometimes. And kissing makes people happy."
A chorus of shouts and laughter erupted from outside the workshop, and suddenly a group of Orc children came barreling past the open door, their green skin flushed with exertion, tusks gleaming as they grinned and called to each other in a mix of English and Orcish.
"Viola! Come play!" one of them shouted, a boy about her age with his dark hair tied back in warrior braids.
Viola's eyes lit up. She squirmed in Argon's arms until he set her down, then turned to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Love you, Daddy!"
"Love you too, little one," Argon said, his voice soft with affection.
She spun to me next, standing on her tiptoes. I crouched down so she could reach, and she pressed a kiss to my cheek too. "Good luck with Aunt Sarah, Uncle Kael. Kiss her good."
"I'll try," I promised.
Then she was off, her small legs pumping as she raced after the other children, her laughter joining theirs as they disappeared around the corner of the workshop. The sound of their play faded into the distance, leaving a comfortable silence in their wake.
I straightened, watching the empty doorway where she'd vanished.
"She's something else," I said.
"She is," Argon agreed, and the pride in his voice was unmistakable. "Best thing that ever happened to me. Well—second best. Tori's the first."
Then Argon stood, brushing sawdust off his pants. "You know, Sarah's coming over for dinner—said she has news to share. Tori invited her."
My heart slammed against my ribs. "She's coming here? Tonight?"
"Tonight." Argon's smile was knowing. "So you might want to shower. And maybe eat something. You look like you're about to pass out."
"I feel like I'm about to pass out," I admitted.
"Then go get cleaned up. And Kael?" He waited until I met his eyes. "Tell her. Don't let fear steal your chance at happiness. You deserve this. You both do."
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
As I headed toward the door, Argon called after me: "And brother? For what it's worth—I think she loves you too. She just doesn't know how to say it."
I held onto those words like a lifeline as I walked back to my small house on the village grounds. Held onto them as I showered and changed into clean clothes. Held onto them as I tried to figure out what the hell I was going to say to Sarah Potter when I saw her again.
Because Argon was right. I had to tell her. Had to give her the words she needed to hear.
Even if it terrified me.
Even if she might break my heart.
Even if this was the biggest risk I'd ever taken in my life.
She was worth it.
She was worth everything.