Chapter 16 #2
I watched him work, fascinated by his controlled power in each swing. I was mesmerized by the flex of his shoulders, the intensity on his face.
“Almost through,” he called out, moving around to the other side to work from that angle. “It’s going to fall into the clearing.”
He kept swinging the axe. The tree creaked, swayed, then crashed to the ground with a heavy thud that sent snow into the air. The scent of fresh pine filled my senses.
“We did it,” I shrieked, throwing my arms up in celebration. “We actually cut down a Christmas tree.”
He shrugged back into his coat and laid the axe on the ground near where Peeka stood waiting, rejoining me beside the tree.
“Time for refreshments,” I announced, needing something to do with my hands. Needing something that might bring back my holiday cheer.
I retrieved my bag and thermos from where we’d placed them on the ground and unpacked everything, then poured us mugs of steaming cocoa. The pottery mugs were beautiful, glazed in deep blue with silver accents that caught the light.
“Hail made these.” I handed Becken one of the mugs. “I thought they’d be perfect for today. I bought them in your aunt’s general store.”
“He does an incredible job. Have you seen Allie’s art? She’s planning a show soon.”
“It’s gorgeous.” I hoped to buy a piece before I left, though I was doing all I could to avoid thinking about leaving.
“I wanted today to be special.” I opened the bag of cookies, releasing the scents of cinnamon and vanilla. “Try one of these. Jessi taught me how to make them last night.”
Becken took a bite, his expression shifting to surprise. “These are wonderful.”
“Don’t sound so shocked. I can follow a recipe.”
“I’m not shocked that you can cook. I’m impressed that you took the time to learn something new just for today.”
“I wanted the day to be perfect.”
We sipped our cocoa and shared cookies while the snow-covered forest stretched around us. The intimacy of the moment felt almost unbearable. Just the two of us in this winter wonderland, sharing something I’d made with my own hands.
“Your turn to explain an orc tradition,” I said.
“Clan gatherings. Story circles around the steaming-hot pools. Contests of strength and skill.” His voice took on the softer quality it always did when he talked about his home. “Everyone contributes something. Food, stories, crafted items.”
“It sounds like such a good time. A giant family reunion. Do you miss it?”
“I miss the certainty of belonging somewhere, of knowing your place in the community.”
The honesty in his voice made my heart ache. “You belong here now.”
“Do I?”
“Of course you do. Everyone loves you. The whole town considers you family.”
“What about you?”
The question hung between us, loaded with implications I wasn’t ready to examine. “I consider you…” I swallowed hard. “Important.”
“Important.”
“Very important.”
Something flickered in his dark eyes. “I guess that’s good to know.”
I turned away to pack up our supplies, hiding the flush spreading across my face. After placing the bag near the axe, I returned to Becken, who was examining the trunk, muttering about how it might not fit in the stand Tark had prepared.
I took in the tree and giddiness bubbled up inside me and spun in a circle, laughing at the sky, then threw myself backward into a pile of fresh snow.
“Snow angel,” I announced, moving my arms and legs to create the classic shape. “Come on, you have to try it.”
“You’re floundering in the snow for no practical purpose.”
“It’s fun. Remember what that feels like?” Rising, I eased around him and flopped back into a fresh snowy area to make another.
He stood over me, shaking his head but smiling. “This is ridiculous.”
“Come on. Try it. For me?”
He sighed dramatically and stepped toward the open area beside me.
“Like this?” His foot hit something, and he fell, landing beside me in an ungraceful sprawl that sent snow flying everywhere.
I gasped through my laughter. “That was dignified.”
“Snow angels are a hazardous tradition,” he grumbled, but he was smiling.
We lay side by side, looking up at the sky, our breath mingling in small clouds. The world felt hushed around us, intimate and perfect.
“This is nice,” I said softly.
“It’s cold.”
“It’s beautiful.”
He turned to look at me, snow dusting his dark hair and making his skin look even more striking. “Yes, it is.”
When I met his gaze, I saw heat there that had nothing to do with staying warm. The awareness that had been building between us all day crystallized into something I couldn’t define.
“Carla,” he said, my name coming out rough.
“Yes?”
“I’m going to kiss you.”
“I was hoping you would.”
He rolled toward me, one large hand cupping my face as his mouth found mine. The kiss was nothing like the desperate encounter in the cabin. This was deliberate, thorough, a claiming that made my entire body come alive.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, and he responded by deepening the kiss until I forgot about the cold, forgot about everything except the taste of him and the way his hand felt as it roamed over my side.
His mouth moved to my throat, and I gasped at the sensation of his lips against my skin. “Becken.”
“You’re too sweet,” he whispered. “Utterly amazing.”
His hands found the zipper of my coat, and I didn’t protest as he worked it down, his mouth following the path of newly exposed skin. The cold air hit me, but his touch burned hot enough to keep me warm.
“We should…” When his lips found that sensitive spot at the crest of my breast, all rational thought disappeared.
“Should what?” The low rumble of his voice sent flames roaring through me.
“I don’t remember.”
His laugh came out deep and growly. “Good.”
We were lost in each other, hands exploring beneath layers of winter clothing, mouths hungry and desperate, when voices carried across the forest.
“Becken? Carla? Where are you?”
We sprang apart, both of us breathing hard. Becken’s hair was messed up from my fingers, and I could only imagine what I looked like.
“That’s Ostor,” Becken said, his voice strained.
“And Ruugar.” I scrambled to zip up my coat.
“Over here,” Becken called, though he made no move to get up. “We cut down a tree.”
Sitting up, I tried to brush snow out of my hair and off my clothes, but the evidence of our activity was probably written all over my face. The heightened awareness between us crackled like electricity, making it hard to think about anything except how much I wanted to continue what we’d started.
“Found you.” Ostor’s voice came closer. “Ruugar brought the sled. We can drag it back to…”
Both orcs emerged from the tree line and stopped short, taking in Becken and I sitting in the snow beside each other, looking thoroughly disheveled.
“Want us to return in a bit?” Ruugar asked with barely concealed amusement.
Becken stood and offered me his hand, pulling me to my feet. The contact sent fresh awareness shooting through me, and from the way his grip tightened, he felt it too.
“I think this tree will work well,” Becken said, his voice carefully neutral. “Ready for transport.”
“I can see that.” Ostor was looking at us rather than the fallen pine.
The easy camaraderie we’d built over the days had shifted into something much more dangerous.
On the ride back to town, pressed against Becken’s chest with his arms around me, I finally let myself acknowledge what I’d been fighting for days.
I was falling in love with him.
Not just attracted, not just drawn to his competence and hidden kindness. I was completely, utterly, terrifyingly in love with this grumpy orc who made me laugh and kept me warm and saw past my professional mask to the woman beneath.
And in a few short days, I was supposed to leave.
How had I let this happen? It would be wrong to dream of a future I couldn’t claim as my own.
But as we approached the town square where our tree would soon stand, decorated and beautiful and bringing joy to everyone who saw it, I couldn’t bring myself to regret it.
Even if loving Becken was the most dangerous thing I’d ever done.
Even if it meant my heart was going to shatter when I drove away.