13. Allie #2
The building sat in an open field, a simple white ranch house with black shutters and a small back porch.
A red-painted gambrel barn stood behind the house, looking like it belonged in a calendar photo of rural America.
The road back to town curved past the front side of the property, but it was empty and dark.
“It’s beautiful,” I said. It was everything I’d ever dreamed of having, a real home, peaceful and safe and permanent.
“It’s safe,” he said, which mattered more than beauty right now.
The house was isolated, surrounded by endless fields. Perfect for privacy, but also perfect for an ambush. There were a dozen places for snipers to hide, countless approaches for a coordinated attack.
I shook my head, trying to shrug off the dark thoughts. This was exactly the kind of thinking that had kept me running for months, never able to trust or settle anywhere. If I was going to stay with Hail, I had to find a way to turn off the constant fear.
We left the woods, ducked, rushing across the big open area until I was panting.
Hail was not, but we’d reached the back of the barn.
We crouched in the shadows for another ten minutes or so, watching the house and surrounding area for any sign of movement.
Hail’s tension coiled across my skin. He kept his hand on the hilt of his sword.
He was taking this as seriously as I was, which both comforted and terrified me.
The windows of the house remained dark, with no obvious signs of forced entry. Nothing moved in the yard or on the road beyond. It looked peaceful, innocent. But looks could be deceiving. I’d learned that the hard way.
“What if they’re already inside?” I whispered.
“They’re not,” Hail said with the same quiet confidence he’d shown before.
“How can you tell?”
“Tressa would know. She’d smell-smell them, hear them. Animals always know.”
I looked down at the white wolf, who was relaxed and alert. If there were strangers in the house, surely she’d be acting differently.
“Clear,” Hail finally said.
We skirted along the left wall of the barn and paused at the end before springing across the open space to the back deck, Tressa loping beside us.
Those thirty seconds of exposure felt like the longest of my life.
I imagined crosshairs tracking my back, rifle scopes zeroing in on my chest. They wouldn’t outright kill me.
Not until they’d either gotten the information they were seeking or decided I really didn’t know where my father might’ve hidden the stolen artwork.
We reached the deck unharmed, without a shout or cry of discovery.
Hail had the back door unlocked and open in seconds, pulling me inside and immediately locking it behind us. The solid thunk of a deadbolt sliding home made me want to collapse with relief.
The kitchen was tidy and spacious, with an island on one end and orc-sized table and chairs on the left that made me feel the size of a child.
I spied a dining room beyond, and a hallway to the left that led to what I assumed were bedrooms, a living room, and a bathroom.
Everything looked clean and organized. It felt lived-in rather than sterile.
“Welcome home.” Hail placed my suitcase on the floor.
The word sent a pang through my chest. I’d almost forgotten what that felt like.
For months, home had been whatever hotel room or tent site I could afford for a few nights.
Before that, it had been my apartment not far from my father’s house.
I’d lived close with the intention of being nearby if he needed me.
This place felt different. It was warm. Welcoming. Full of Hail’s personality and care. I could see him here, drinking a cup of tea from one of his pottery mugs, reading in the living room, and cooking meals for one.
Now it would be meals for two. At least temporarily.
A sharp knock on the back door made me jump. My heart shot up my throat, and I shot Hail a look of pure panic. They’d found us. They’d followed us somehow, and now they were here. This was it. This was how it ended.
Hail moved over to peer through the glass before glancing back at me. “It’s Greel.”
I tried to calm my racing pulse as he opened the door to let his brother in. Every unexpected sound was going to terrify me until this was over. Maybe even after. I wasn’t sure I’d ever feel completely safe again.
“Dungar’s patrolling the perimeter,” Greel said as Hail shut and locked the door. “Tark’s got the forest covered. You’re safe inside the house.”
The idea of Hail’s brothers out there in the darkness, standing guard while I hid inside, made my chest tight with guilt and gratitude. These males barely knew me, but they were risking their lives to protect me.
“Good, th-th-thanks,” Hail said.
“Becken is in town, making sure our guests don’t cause any trouble.”
Greel and Hail shared a long look, some kind of silent communication passing between them that I couldn’t interpret. Finally, Hail nodded and bumped his knuckles against Greel’s shoulder in what looked like an orc gesture of some kind.
“Appreciate it,” Hail said.
“Family,” Greel said, as if that explained everything. “We’ll rotate the guard and meet up tomorrow morning to come up with a plan. Bakery. Five am.” He nodded at me once and slipped back out into the darkness, leaving us alone.
I stood in the middle of Hail’s kitchen, still shaking from adrenaline, and tried to process that I was actually here in his home. Safe, at least for tonight.
The silence felt strange after hours of hypervigilance. No footsteps to worry about, no sounds to analyze for threat levels. Just the quiet hum of the refrigerator and the ticking of a clock somewhere in the house.
“Are you hungry?” Hail asked. “I can make us some food.”
“I don’t think I could eat right now. My stomach’s still doing backflips. But you go ahead.”
“Something to drink then. Tea?”
The thoughtful offer made my throat tight. “Tea sounds perfect.”
I watched him move around the kitchen, filling a kettle and setting it on the stove. Everything was scaled to his size, from the counters to the cabinets to the chairs. I felt tiny in comparison, but not uncomfortable.
“This is a lovely home,” I said, taking in the details. Handmade pottery bowls on the counter, obviously his work. A few books stacked neatly on the windowsill. A mug by the sink, evidence of his morning routine.
“It’s not much,” Hail said. “But it’s mine. Well, ours n-n-now, I suppose.”
Another word that hit me unexpectedly hard. I’d been alone for so long that sharing space with someone for even a short time felt wonderful.
“Where should I put my things?” I asked, gesturing to my suitcase.
Hail’s cheeks darkened with what might’ve been embarrassment. “That’s…that’s a good question. I only ha-ha-have one bedroom. One bed.”
Of course he did. Single orc male, living alone. Why would he have a guest room?
“I can sleep on the sofa,” I said.
“Absolutely not. You’re my g-guest, and you’ve been through enough tonight. I’ll take the so-so-sofa.”
I strode partway down the hall and studied the living room, including the orc-sized couch that was probably too short for his frame. Then I scooted further down the hall and poked my head into his bedroom, returning to the kitchen.
“The sofa won’t fit you,” I said. “And the bed’s big enough for both of us. We can share it.” My cheeks flamed. “I mean…platonically. If you want. I don’t mind.”
Hail went still, the kettle whistling behind him. “You’d be comfortable with that?”
“You’re a gentleman,” I said. “I trust you not to try anything I’m not ready for.”
“Gentleorc,” he said, his voice strained.
“Right. Gentleorc.”
The kettle’s whistle was getting more insistent, and Hail turned to deal with it, giving me a view of his broad shoulders and the sword still strapped across his back. Even in his own kitchen, he hadn’t disarmed. He was taking my safety seriously.
“Tea will be ready in a few minutes,” he said without turning around. He stepped over to the refrigerator and pulled out bread, meat, cheese, not turning as he quickly made a sandwich.
Silence ticked between us for too long.
“Hail?” I finally said.
“Yeah?” He didn’t look my way.
“Thank you for all of this. For protecting me, for bringing me here, for…” I gestured around his kitchen, his home. “For sharing your space with me.”
He did turn then, his dark eyes soft with affection. “You don’t need to thank me for taking c-c-care of you. You’re my mate, but even if you weren’t, I’d still protect you with my life.”
His mate. The words still sent a little thrill through me, even though my only evidence of a bond was our matching golden tattoos.
He placed my tea and his own at the table, then brought over two enormous sandwiches on a paper towel, placing them in the middle. “Sit.”
I climbed into one of the chairs, low enough I could probably rest my chin on the table’s surface without ducking down. It was comical, really. Why, then, did I feel like I was going to cry?
Hail took the other chair and placed one half of a sandwich on a paper towel in front of me, nudging the tea. “Sugar or sorhox cream?”
“Um, no, black is okay.”
I lifted the mug, took a sip, and placed it back at the table. Since my belly was rumbling despite the tough situation, I grabbed the big half-sandwich and took a bite.
Watching me, Hail nodded before biting into his meal as well.
“So,” I said after I’d demolished my half of sandwich and he’d placed another chunk on my plate. “Sharing a bed platonically. How do you think that’s going to go?”
Hail’s smile came out both rueful and slightly pained. “I believe we’re about to find out.”