10. Hail
Hail
T he golden mark on Allie’s wrist made my chest clench with emotions I struggled to name. Wonder. Terror. Hope I’d never dared to feel before.
In the orc kingdom, a bonding was cause for celebration, the entire clan gathering to witness two souls being linked by forces beyond our understanding.
Here, in this tiny shed with rain hitting the roof, our bonding had no witnesses except Tressa.
But that felt right. It was something private and precious between just the two of us.
“Hail?” Her voice carried confusion and a thread of fear. “What’s happening to me?”
I stared at the intricate pattern that had appeared on her skin, identical to the one that had burned into my own wrist days ago. The mate bond. Real and undeniable, marking her as mine as surely as it marked me as hers.
“It’s a mating bond mark,” I said quietly. “An orc mating bond.”
“I’m not an orc.” She held up her wrist, studying the golden circle. “It’s pretty but…I did not get a tattoo.”
“In orc culture, the fates choose mates for us. The bond ap-ap-appears when two people are meant to be to-to-together.” I watched her face for signs of panic or rejection, grateful I didn’t find them there. “It means…it means you’re my mate, Allie. And I’m yours.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Like, permanent mate?”
“If you want to be.” The words came out rushed, nervous energy making my hands shake. “It’s not… You don’t have to accept it. Anyone can reject the b-b-bond if they choose to. But the mark will always be there, a reminder of what c-could have been.”
And what was lost.
She remained quiet, turning her wrist this way and that to catch the dim light on the golden pattern. Tressa had lifted her head to watch us, her eyes alert.
“Does this hurt?” Allie asked.
“The mark? No, it doesn’t hurt. You saw.”
“I mean the rejection thing. If I said no, would it hurt you?”
The question hit me right in the gut. “I… Yes, it would hurt. But I’d understand if?—”
“I’m not saying no.” She looked up at me with those brown eyes that had captured me from the first time I saw her. “I’m just trying to understand what this means.”
Relief poured through me so intensely I had to brace myself against the shelving. “It means the fates think we be-belong together.”
“And what do you think?”
I studied her face, taking in the clay smudge still on her cheek, the way her hair hung in wild waves from the wind and the rain, and the direct way she met my gaze despite the strange circumstances.
“I think I’ve been waiting my whole life for you to walk into my pottery barn.”
Her smile flickered upward. “That’s a pretty good answer.”
The acceptance in her voice touched places in my heart I’d thought were permanently closed off. I’d resigned myself to being alone, to watching my brothers find happiness while I remained on the side. But here was Allie, marked by fate as mine, looking at me like I was worth keeping.
I rose to my knees on the shed floor, moving slowly so I wouldn’t startle her. “There’s…there’s a tradition. Part of the bond. If you’re willing.”
“What kind of tradition?”
“May I have your hands?”
She extended both toward me without hesitation, and the trust in that simple gesture made my throat close off. I took her left hand first, the one with the new mark, and turned it palm up.
“In orc culture, we sig-signify the bond with taste and touch.” I met her eyes, wanting her to understand the significance. “It’s sacred to us. A promise but…not permanence. You c-c-can still say no.”
“Okay, you can do whatever it is.”
First, I showed her my own mark, and when she traced her fingertip around the pattern, goosebumps rose on my skin.
It was only after she’d released me that I lowered my head and pressed my lips to her palm.
I drew my tongue across the sensitive skin from her palm to her wrist, covering the new mark.
Her breath hitched, but she didn’t pull away.
I repeated the gesture with her other hand, taking my time, giving this moment the reverence it needed.
“You taste like you’re mine,” I said against her skin. “And I taste like I’m y-yours.”
“Does this mean we’re sort of engaged?”
I lifted my head. “We’re bonded. Mated is-is-is different. That comes la-later, if you-you choose it.”
“What’s the difference?”
Flames crept up my spine. “Bonded means we’re connected, that we be-belong to each other. Mated is when we’ve…physically claimed each other. Completed the bond in every way.”
Understanding dawned in her eyes. “Ah. Got it.”
Outside, the storm was tapering off, the steady patter of rain on the roof becoming sporadic drops. Lightning still flickered in the eastern sky, but the thunder was growing distant.
“Sounds like it’s clearing up,” Allie said, glancing toward the window.
I rose to my feet and tugged her up from the floor. “We should get you back to-to the hotel before another wave hits. Prairie storms c-c-can have multiple fronts.”
Tressa stretched and shook herself, ready to venture back outside.
We carefully made our way through the puddles and mud to the pottery barn, Tressa trotting beside us with her usual confidence. The air smelled fresh and clean, washed by the rain, and the oppressive heat from earlier had broken.
Allie gathered her things, and we stepped back outside, me locking the barn door behind us.
“Do you feel any different now that I have the mark too?” she asked.
I considered the question. “I feel…complete. Like a piece I didn’t know was missing has click-click-clicked into place.”
“That’s sweet.”
“What about you? Any su-su-sudden urges to collect clay or stutter when you talk?”
She laughed. “No stuttering yet. Though I do have an inexplicable desire to make pottery.”
“That might be the bond, or it might be that pottery is amazing.”
“Probably both.”
We reached the hotel as the last of the rain was ending. The building’s upper floors were peaceful in the light filtering through the breaking clouds, a warm yellow glow visible in a few windows where guests were settling in for the evening.
Entering the saloon, we crossed the open area, weaving around the tables full of tourists who’d probably sought shelter from the rain—and a good meal.
I waved to Greel but didn’t see Jessi, who must be working hard in the kitchen.
Their new orc chef would arrive soon, and Jessi would supervise the kitchen while Greel managed the floor staff.
The trick was in finding the right fit for each position, but we all knew Lavon well.
We climbed the stairs and when she told me her room number, we walked down the hall, stopping outside her door, Tressa padding behind us.
“Thank you.” Allie turned to face me. “For explaining everything. For being patient with my questions.”
“Thank you for not running away scre-screaming.”
“The night’s still young.” But her smile took the sting out of the words.
I wanted to kiss her again, to feel that perfect fit of our mouths, but she needed time to think about this, time for the idea of being mated to me to settle. Instead, I brushed a strand of damp hair away from her face.
“Dream well, Allie.” Dream of me. Dream of us.
“You too, Hail.”
I waited until she’d entered her room and shut the door before turning to walk back down the hall. Tressa fell into step beside me, her tail wagging.
“What do you think?” I asked her. “Will she stay?”
Tressa gave me a look that clearly said I was asking questions with obvious answers.
I’d made it maybe twenty paces when I heard a hotel door slam open behind me. I turned to see Allie rushing out of her room, her face pale.
“Hail.” She ran toward me, stumbling in her haste. “Hail, wait!”
I caught her as she reached me, steadying her with my hands on her shoulders. “What’s wrong? What happened?” I peered around but didn’t see anyone else in the area. If someone?—
“My room.” Breathing hard, her eyes were wide with fear. “Someone was in my room.”
Ice shot through my veins. “What do you mean someone was in your room?”
“My things…” She shook her head, looking around like she expected attackers to emerge from the shadows. “Everything’s been searched. Clothes thrown around, my suitcase dumped out. Even the bathroom’s a mess.”
Every orc instinct I possessed screamed at me to hunt down whoever had violated her space, to ensure they could never threaten her again.
The intensity of it was staggering. I’d heard my brothers describe this aspect of the bond, but experiencing it was something else entirely.
I forced myself to breathe, to focus on Allie’s immediate safety rather than vengeance.
Tressa had gone alert beside us, her ears pricked forward and her nose testing the air.
“Did you see anyone or he-hear anything?” I asked.
“No, I didn’t.” Her hands shook. “They’re looking for something, and I think I know who it was.”
The phone calls. The way she’d been checking exits and watching the street. The fear that had been following her since she arrived in Lonesome Creek.
“We need to call Dungar,” I said grimly.
“No.” The word came out sharp and full of fear. “No police. Please, Hail. I can’t deal with cops right now.”
Every logical part of me knew we should report this. Dungar would know exactly what to do, how to investigate properly. But the terror in her voice stopped me cold. Trust had to go both ways if this bond between us was going to have any chance at all.
“Alright,” I said. “No police yet. But you’re not stay-staying in that room tonight.”
“I’ll find somewhere else?—”
“You’re staying with me.” The words came out full of force. The mate bond was roaring at me to protect her, to keep her close and safe. “If someone’s after you, they’re not getting a ch-ch-chance to find you alone.”
“You don’t understand. Being around me is dangerous?—”
“I don’t care.” I cupped her face, making sure she was looking at me. “You’re my mate, Allie. Mine to protect. Whatever trouble you’re running from, we’ll face it side by side.”
I could see the war playing out behind her eyes. The desire to accept help battling against what I suspected was years of self-preservation.
“What if I bring danger to your family?” Her voice croaked.
“Then my family will help us handle it. That’s what f-families do.”
Whoever was after her didn’t know what it meant to threaten an orc’s mate. The ancient protective magic running through my bloodline had awakened, and it would not rest until she was safe.
Neither would I.