Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Snow was lowered to his feet. He wobbled and reached out to clutch the man’s hip to steady himself.
Avoiding Vor’s gaze, he slowly turned to find a massive stone cottage with a thatched roof tucked into a grove of towering evergreens.
It stood a few yards away from them, the small glass windows dancing with light from the promised fire inside.
He was still chilled, though warmer thanks to his indignity and the shared heat of Vor’s body.
“A humble home, but it has all the comforts you require for the night.”
Humble? It was no peasant’s home. He’d seen minor lords with homes not much larger.
Vor sighed. “Ready to go inside?”
He wasn’t ready to face down six more like Vor, but the flickering flames of the fire drew him forward.
“I suppose we should.” Snow took one step and yelped in pain. His feet were sore, bloodied, and raw. Before he could take another step, Vor scooped him up in one arm, under his bottom like a child. Snow clutched one massive arm, holding himself upright.
“I’d rather walk.”
“Nay—you can’t,” Vor said, glaring down at him.
The door swung open before they could reach it, and Greer slipped outside. “There you are.”
“Is all prepared?” Vor asked.
“The others had already returned home and washed up. Lazlo is cooking dinner. Owan is making bread. I’ll go now and wash up myself.” Greer turned and smiled at Vor. “Unless you’d like to wash first? I can watch the omega for you while you do.”
“Nay,” Vor barked. “Go. I’ll bathe later.” Vor eyed Snow. “With the omega.”
Snow blanched. He would not bathe with an alpha he didn’t know—yet at the same time, a bath was an enticing offer. He wasn’t sure if that was the prospect of the warm tub or the alpha who might be filling it.
“Oh, with him, hmm?” Greer asked, one brow rising. His gaze drifted to Snow. “Welcome to our humble abode.”
As they entered through the doorway, a crowd of four towering alphas surrounded them, barring Snow from reaching the roaring fire he so yearned to feel upon his flesh. Snow clung closer to Vor, overwhelmed by the cluster of men.
“My gods, he is real,” a younger, green-eyed, red-headed alpha scoffed, dough on the long, lean pale fingers he held upright to avoid touching anything.
His ivory skin and freckles coupled with an accent heavy with a rolled ‘r’ sounded as if he hailed from the North Islands.
Snow was quite familiar, as his father did trade with the king there.
Envoys had come and gone for years. “Greer weren’t lying after all, Laz. ”
“Do ye think he’s fey?” a smaller, blond alpha asked, one brow rising over a bright blue eye as he tapped a wooden spoon against his stubbled jaw.
His pale complexion and hint of an accent whispered he came from south of the valley, perhaps from the snowy mountains.
“He looks fey. You can never trust the fey, Vor.”
“Perhaps he is kinnara, ready to feast on our souls,” another alpha quipped, his accent intriguing. “I believe you call them sirens here?”
This one had a very unique face with skin the color of deep bronze. His accent was one Snow had never heard before. Enamored, Snow searched him over.
“Don’t be daft,” the fourth alpha beside him replied with another unfamiliar accent.
He was even more distinctive than his friend, with deep, dark, angular eyes and smooth, beige skin.
His hair was black, except for a shock of pure white in the front and a slash of it through one eyebrow.
“Sirens live in the water, not in the middle of the wood.”
“The river’s not that far,” the bronze alpha argued, tilting his head as he scanned Snow’s face again. “He might’ve swum upstream to find us—and murder us in the night. Sirens live to kill alphas, just like the kinnara.”
“I’m no siren,” Snow murmured. “Or kinnara.”
“Ah, exactly what a siren would say,” the bronze man contended as he took a step closer, a hint of a smile on his lips. “Luckily, I don’t mind either way. Seduce me, beautiful siren. Take me away from this miserable existence. Please.”
Snow smiled at the wide one spread across the alpha’s face, relaxing against Vor.
“Will you all back up and let him breathe?” Vor barked.
The others glared at Vor for a second before they turned smiles back to Snow, ignoring the big brute. That bark did something to Snow, though—which caused him to writhe against the alpha. Vor’s heated gaze swung his way.
“Forgive us,” the bronze alpha murmured, recapturing Snow’s attention. “We get so few guests so far here. And never one quite so lovely.”
“Did someone boil water as I asked?” Vor asked, interrupting the man and pushing through them.
Snow nearly admonished him for his rudeness, but the result led them closer to the fire. He nearly moaned as he felt the first licks of warmth against his skin.
“We did,” the alpha with unique eyes said behind them. “We just put it on a few moments before you arrived. It should boil soon.”
Vor sat Snow on a massive, well-worn leather chair in front of the fire before sitting down across from him on a foot stool fashioned from the same leather.
Snow eyed them both. The chair was soft and well made, like the ones found in his father’s private study, and the stool appeared to be as well.
They seemed almost out of place amongst the other roughhewn tables and chairs around the room.
Vor lifted both of Snow’s feet on top of one thick thigh, covered in leather chausses nearly the same color as the chair.
“The omega’s hurt and needs tending. Someone bring me some clean cloth and salve.” Vor paused his commands to get a better look at the cuts on Snow’s feet and legs. “He needs an ale to drink. Is there any leftover bannock from yesterday eve?”
“Can’t he wait?” asked the blond. He stirred an enormous, cauldron-like pot hanging nearby in the wide, massive hearth as tall as Vor, staring at Snow the entire time. “The stew shouldn’t be much longer.”
“He’s famished,” Vor snapped without looking up from his inspection of Snow’s feet. “A small bite of oatcake won’t destroy his appetite, I’m sure.”
“I can wait,” Snow whispered, not wanting to cause a quarrel.
Vor’s gaze whipped to his. “Nay. I heard your stomach warbling beside my ear the entire way here.”
Snow’s stomach chose to gurgle again, clearly thankful for Vor’s refusal. The man showed no pleasure at being proven right, though. He went back to his examination of Snow’s feet and legs.
“Water, cloth, salve, sustenance… now!” Vor barked when no one moved.
Suddenly, the alphas moved like whirlwinds around them.
A basin of clean, boiled water was brought, along with layers of white muslin and a small set of silver tools Snow was unfamiliar with.
After thoroughly washing his hands in the water with a small nugget of lye soap, Vor grasped one of the tools and began the arduous task of picking the barbs from Snow’s feet and calves.
Snow whimpered as Vor pulled a large thorn from his toe.
“Forgive me,” Vor whispered, so faint Snow could barely hear it against the crackling of the fire.
His gaze lifted for the briefest moment, and Snow thought he saw sorrow in the brute’s eyes.
“It cannot be helped,” Snow murmured.
Even though Vor had been gentle in removing the thorn, he seemed to be show more caution with the next. Snow fought a smile through the pain, grateful for such unexpectedly tender care.
His feet looked tiny in Vor’s giant hands. He watched as the alpha tended to him, Vor as attentive as any lover. Maybe he acted that way because he hoped to be one by the end of the night. Snow got a better look at the brute in the firelight and decided he might be willing to allow it.
A long, black ponytail pooled over his shoulder and swayed with every movement.
Snow had noticed the leather tie at the back of Vor’s neck as he’d hung unceremoniously over that same shoulder.
He wondered what it would look like without the bind and flowing freely.
In the light of the fire, it shone like silk.
Snow’s fingers itched to slide through the strands to see if they were as smooth.
Before the end of the night, he just might have a chance of it.
A mug of ale and a small plate with a chunk of oatcake was set beside him on another stool.
Before he could lift his gaze and offer thanks, whomever had brought it was gone.
Snow reached for the mug, thankful for something to quench his thirst. The ale tasted of apples and made him smile with how refreshing it was.
Before he could stop himself, he guzzled the whole of it down, sighing with sweet relief when he was done.
The bronze man chuckled before appearing at his side with a pitcher to refill it.
“Thank you,” Snow whispered.
“You’re more than welcome,” he said as set the pitcher on a nearby table.
Snow nibbled on a corner of the oatcake, and while a bit firmer than expected, the taste was delicious, too—especially eaten with a drink of the ale to soften it.
“It will take you hours to do this alone,” the bronze alpha murmured as he stood watching over Vor’s shoulder.
Vor grunted without any other reply.
The bronze alpha’s gaze drifted to Snow’s, a warm smile on his handsome face.
Snow really took in his appearance in the light of the fire, searching for some clues to the alpha’s origin.
He’d seen distant, foreign visitors arrive in his father’s court over the years and thought himself worldly, but he’d never seen anyone that looked so unique.
His shoulder-length, thick, wavy hair shone black as well, like raven’s wings.
He had an interestingly-shaped mustache—thick and curling in a large circle at each end—and a tiny beard only covering his chin.
His smiling eyes sparkled like the topaz gemstone ring his papa had been buried wearing.