Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
TORION
“Alpha Feargus!"
My lungs were tight, and cold water sloshed over the lips of the buckets I hauled, shocking my burning arms. I didn't know if the heat scorching me from head to toe was a result of the effort of a half hour of hauling water, or the ash and sparks still floating through the air, hiding in billows of smoke to kiss and sting against my cheeks and sizzle at my hair.
"Alpha!"
I ignored the lad calling for me. Anyone not working to douse the last of the flames would have to wait for my attention when it could be spared.
There was nowhere for a dragon to land near Brigid's cottage, so we were left hauling water by hand.
It was slower, grueling work, and we were already too late.
"Omega Feargus demands I bring you to—"
I let out a snarl of effort as I tossed the bucket of water onto the unrecognizable blackened skeleton of Brigid's cottage. My arms went immediately limp, the wooden bucket knocking uselessly against my knee as I spun, eyes burning as I searched for the voice.
"Reassure her that I'll come back to the keep when this is done. There's no danger now."
"But she's here, my lord."
The bucket dropped and hit my toe, another tally of pain that I ignored, cursing and striding toward where I thought the voice was coming from. "What do you mean she's—"
"Torion!" Her voice was distant, a spirit in the woods meant to tempt me away from my duty. I followed it immediately.
I tried to call out Brigid's name, but all that came out was a rough cough. I raised my hand over my mouth, only to find it tasted even more bitterly of ash than the air.
"This way, my lord." Suddenly, a young man appeared at my left, catching my elbow and guiding me out of the smoke.
I'd turned myself around in the smoke, a thick cloud which felt endless from near the cottage but dissipated near the road.
A carriage waited there, and in front of its door stood my omega, her arms crossed atop her rounded belly and her scowl fierce.
"You shouldn't be here," I croaked out.
Brigid's arms unwound, her head shaking, and she twisted toward the open door of the carriage, pulling a sodden cloth from a bowl of clean water.
"Come here. Look at what a mess you are.
Thank you, George. Tell the men to get back from the smoke.
We only need to be sure the fire doesn't spread now. "
I was stumbling closer. My arms were useless at my sides, and my feet were barely more helpful than lead blocks at the end of my legs, but I managed to stay upright. "We aren't done—I need to—"
"The others will manage," Brigid said, snatching my hand with the cool cloth. I hissed and then groaned in relief, my eyelids slowly closing over what felt like gritty rocks.
"There's only a few of us," I said, but it was a token protest. Now that my omega had me in her clutches, I was sure I was too weak to escape.
"Nonsense. There are dozens. I brought five myself," Brigid said, and even her voice was refreshing to my fevered mind. She finished wiping clean my hand and huffed, holding it in her own smooth grip for a moment before replacing her touch with cold, hard glass. "Drink."
The water was sweet with honey and mint, and I gulped it down greedily, wasting some that ran from the corners of my mouth and down my throat. "I'm sorry," I gasped out when I finished the glass. "I wanted to save it for you."
Brigid's smile was half-hearted. "I know you did. Take that filthy shirt off and let me see the worst of it. Are you burnt anywhere?"
I started to strip the shirt, but my arms had lost all their strength. Brigid huffed, batting my hands away and unfastening the shoulders so the fabric fell from my wings easily enough. "I should dip into the river," I said.
"It would be expedient, but let me look you over first."
"We'll find who did this," I assured her.
Brigid hummed and frowned, circling me. I was relieved to note that the breeze was carrying smoke in the opposite direction from where we stood.
When I looked back at the cottage, I realized Brigid was right—many more men had arrived to help while I'd been focused on the repetitive path from stream to cottage and back again.
"You're right, I suppose. We shouldn't let it go without investigation," she mumbled, lifting one arm and giving it a cursory wash before moving to the other. "Your wings look dirty but uninjured. You'll sound like a frog in your meeting this week."
I wasn't sure if the smoke had addled me, but I was beginning to feel like my mate and I were holding two separate conversations. "I'll rebuild you the cottage. I promise."
Brigid stepped back and her gaze lifted to mine, her smile gentling. "I have a towel for you. Go wash properly. Make sure to go upstream. Then join me in the carriage, and we'll ride back to the keep together."
"I could fly and meet—"
"No. We're taking the carriage," Brigid said, her eyes narrowed with something like a warning.
Fighting the oddest smile on my mouth, I took the towel, careful not to dirty it against me, and hurried to obey.
The men were dispersing, and the smoke was starting to thin now that water wasn't being added.
There were still coals smoldering on some of the larger beams of the cottage that had come down, and it was more apparent now that there was nothing but charcoal to salvage from the mess.
I'd expected Brigid to be rigid with shock or inconsolable, wide-eyed and skittish.
As usual, I'd been wrong. I washed quickly, savoring the feeling of splashing cold water against my face, cleaning out my swollen, stinging eyes, and helping myself to a few gulps.
When I returned to the carriage, wrapped in the clean cloth, Brigid was sitting in the opening, and she eyed me speculatively, as a healer.
Even that stare made my blood feel warmer.
"You have a few burns, but they don't look too bad. I'll put salve on them in the carriage. Come."
Sheepish for some reason, as if I were a boy who'd been caught mucking in puddles and was about to enter the house with muddy footprints, I climbed into the carriage after my omega.
"Here on the bench with me," she instructed, patting the cushion.
I took my seat and shut the carriage door behind us as Brigid knocked on the roof and the driver set us in motion.
All at once, my mate seemed to deflate. Lifting my arm at her side and throwing it around her shoulder, she fell into me, scooting until we were hip to hip on the bench and nuzzling her face into my chest.
"Don't run off like that without me," she grumbled.
However tired my arms had been a moment ago, they found the strength to wrap around Brigid without a second thought.
"I didn't want you to lose the cottage. It means too much to you. You don't have to pretend it's all right."
Brigid sighed, and her warm breath soothed over my skin, her cheek so soft against me.
"Of course it isn't all right that the cottage burnt down.
I am sad about that. But, Torion…" She leaned back, and there was enough light from the carriage windows to make her easy expression perfectly clear. "I don't need the cottage."
I blinked at that. Brigid hadn't been back to the cottage for more than a quick visit to check on the property or collect things since she'd told me about her pregnancy.
I hadn't been sure how we would handle it in the future.
I wouldn't have wanted her to leave the keep with our child, not without me at their side, but I had assumed the discussion might arise if she grew overwhelmed one day, if she discovered a need for space.
I was fairly sure I could coax her back to the keep again, or even that I would be welcome at the cottage, but I didn't plan on restricting her.
Brigid's hand rose and soothed over my cheek, nails scratching over the faint bristle of prickling hair from the day. "When we rebuild, we should do so intending to make a property for one of our children to inherit," she said softly, smiling up at me.
Heat flared and tightened in my groin, and I forced myself to remember that Brigid was still currently pregnant with our first child and I was not about to go and get her with child a second time already. Still, practice never hurt anyone.
"I already have everything I need at the keep—of my mother's and of my own.
Most importantly…I have you," she said, almost whispering the words.
Her eyes were growing glassy and glittering, and she blinked quickly for a moment, throat flexing with a swallow, tongue flicking out to wet her bottom lip. "I do love you, Torion."
I held my breath for a moment, part of me expecting to be woken from a dream.
Perhaps I'd been so overcome by the smoke that I'd collapsed?
But no, in my dreams Brigid welcomed me with glowing eyes and open arms and a sharp wide smile.
Here, Brigid was near tears, looking terrified and determined.
This was my omega, in all her reserve and all her fears.
I lowered my head slowly and pressed my lips to her forehead, her sigh sliding down my throat.
I knew why the words challenged her. I knew that for her to admit as much against her own forged resistances meant the feelings ran even deeper than she was ready to say.
But she'd said it aloud for me, and even more importantly, more readily, she'd promised in her own way not to run away from me again.
The confession, the declaration, was the most precious gift I'd ever received, and she was the only one capable of giving it.
"I love you, mate," I rasped, my voice ragged with feeling more than smoke.
Brigid shuddered and climbed into my lap, and I bit off my hiss as she accidentally brushed her hand over a sore spot on my upper arm. Salve could wait. Holding my mate close was all the healing I needed for the moment.