Chapter 20
Becken
Dawn crept through my hotel window, waking me up. I stared at the ceiling, my body still humming from last night. Carla’s scent lingered on my skin, citrus and warmth and all her.
The mark on my wrist caught the morning light, the golden circle more vibrant than before.
It was a physical reminder of what had happened between us.
Of what we’d become to each other, whether we acknowledged it or not.
I traced the swirling pattern with my finger, remembering how it appeared that morning in the cabin.
Sleep had been impossible. Each time I closed my eyes, I could hear her gasp when I touched her, the way she’d whispered my name, how perfectly she’d fit against me.
The trust in her eyes when she’d come apart.
Few had ever looked at me that way, like I was someone special and necessary all at once.
My body hardened at the memory of her clinging to me, her warm wetness sheathing me, and the way she’d dug into my sides. The sweet sounds she’d made that I’d swallowed with kisses. The heat of her skin against mine.
The emptiness beside me felt wrong. She should be here, her hair spread across my pillow, her body curled against mine.
But she may never be, and the absence ached like a mortal wound.
What would it be like to wake with her every morning, to feel her stir against me, to see her eyes open, still soft with sleep?
I wanted to build a life with her in this strange surface world that had begun to feel like home only because she was in it.
My feelings for her had grown beyond what I could control or contain. What started as respect for her professional competence had transformed into something deeper, more terrifying. More wondrous. Something I’d never expected to feel again after losing Wexla.
A love I still wasn’t sure I deserved.
The ceiling offered no answers. I rubbed my eyes, trying to organize my thoughts. How had this human woman with her holiday enthusiasm and fierce determination dismantled every wall I’d built around my heart?
I pushed myself out of bed and bathed, dressing quickly, pulling on layers to battle the cold outside.
My reflection in the mirror looked different.
The same orc face stared back, but my eyes looked different.
The emptiness that had haunted me since Wexla’s death had left, replaced by something softer, more alive.
The sorhoxes needed feeding, and physical labor might clear my head. We had today and tomorrow. After that, she’d leave.
Unless I asked her to stay.
I could be setting myself up to feel loss all over again. After Wexla, I’d sworn I was done with love and the pain that came with it. Yet here I was, contemplating offering Carla a future by my side, of building something permanent from what had begun as temporary.
The air outside stole my breath, but the wintery bite cleared the fog from my head.
Snow crunched beneath my boots as I made my way to the sorhox pens.
The town slumbered around me, Christmas decorations glittering in the early light.
In a few hours, the streets would fill with excited tourists enjoying their Christmas Eve and this authentic orc cowboy experience.
Right now, though, the world belonged to me and my thoughts.
Peeka greeted me with a soft whoof, trotting over to the fence when she spotted me. She lowered her head, seeking pats, and I obliged, scratching behind her ears where she liked it best.
“Morning.” I leaned my forehead against hers. “Feeling better after the parade?”
She snorted, pushing against my hand.
“You did well with the bells. The children loved you. Carla was impressed with how you handled the noise.”
Peeka’s ears perked at Carla’s name. Even my sorhox had fallen under her spell.
“I think I’m in trouble.” I fed Peeka an apple from my pocket. “She’s not like Wexla. She makes me feel…”
Alive. Like the male I’d forgotten how to be during those dark months after losing my mate.
“She’s leaving tomorrow. Her contract ends, and she has no reason to stay.”
Except the golden marks that connected us in ways neither of us fully understood.
“Talking to your sorhox about female troubles?”
I spun to find Ruugar leaning against the fence nearby, an amused expression on his face. How long had he been standing there? The knowing glint in his eye suggested long enough.
“Checking on Peeka,” I said gruffly. “Making sure she’s not sore from the parade.”
“Of course.” My cousin’s knowing smile broadened as he pushed off the fence and strode closer. “It has nothing to do with avoiding a certain human consultant who made you look like you’d been struck by lightning during the tree ceremony.”
“I’m not avoiding anyone.” The denial sounded weak even to my own ears.
“So you’re not hiding out here at dawn because you’re afraid of running into Carla at breakfast?
” He stopped beside me, reaching up to scratch Peeka’s jaw.
“We’re meeting up in the saloon. It’s open only for us; the tourists will dine in the restaurant.
Jessi made sure Carla knew she was invited.
She couldn’t take her eyes off you during the parade.
She watches you all the time, actually.”
My heart flipped over, though her watching might not mean a thing. “Does she?”
“She loves you. Wants you to be happy.”
I knew that. But everything still…hurt. “How’s Beth?”
His expression softened. “She’s still sleeping.
The youngling has been active, kicking her all the time.
She says it feels like sorhoxes are racing around inside her belly.
” His voice held such tenderness when he spoke of them.
“I thought I’d give her some peace.” He stepped closer, studying my face. “Something’s different about you.”
Heat crept up my neck. “I can’t imagine what.”
“Your ears are darker than usual.” He circled me, his appraisal uncomfortably thorough. “You look stunned and scared and—”
“Enough.” I said with a sigh, turning to focus on Peeka.
“Ah.” The single syllable contained volumes. His voice lowered. “When did the mating marks appear?”
I stared at him, my jaw dropping. “How did you—”
“Your sleeve rode up when you were scratching Peeka.” He nodded toward my wrist. “Plus, I know what a newly mated male looks like. I’ve seen this expression in every one of my brothers except Dungar, and I’m sure his time is coming.
” A gentle smile spread across his face. “Welcome to the club, cousin.”
“Not everyone’s experience is the same.” I kept my voice carefully neutral. This was too new to discuss like this.
“True. But when a male looks at a female the way you look at Carla, mating marks or not, it means something.” Ruugar leaned against the fence rail, settling in for a longer conversation than I wanted. “Fate doesn’t make mistakes, Becken. When the marks appear, there’s a reason.”
“I can’t—”
“Don’t insult my intelligence.” Ruugar’s voice remained kind, but firm. “The whole town sees the way you watch her. How you’ve softened around her. The sorhoxes respond to her because you do. This only confirms what we all suspected.”
There was no point denying it. Not to Ruugar, who knew me too well. The evidence was literally branded onto my skin. “It’s complicated.”
“Love usually is.” He leaned back, studying the clouds drifting across the sky overhead. “I thought I’d never find a mate. Then Beth came along, a human female fleeing her own wedding.” A smile touched his lips at the memory. “She drove me mad from the first moment. And terrified me just as much.”
“You didn’t have Wexla before Beth.” I shoved the words out with everything I couldn’t quite articulate.
Ruugar’s expression grew solemn. “I can’t pretend to know what you’re feeling. After losing Wexla, I understand why you’d be cautious, why opening yourself to someone new would feel like a betrayal.”
“It’s not only that.” I struggled to put words to the tangle of emotions in my chest. “When Wexla died, I thought that part of me passed with her.”
“But it didn’t.”
“No.” I stared out at the snowy landscape, the truth settling into my bones. “It didn’t.”
“Some males never find a mate at all. Some are blessed enough to find one. And a very few…” He nudged my shoulder. “A very few are given a second chance. The question is whether you’re brave enough to grab onto her and hold her close.”
“And sometimes the fates offer impossible choices.” I shrugged off his hand, pacing along the fence line as frustration surged through me. “She’s leaving, Ruugar. Her life, her career, everything she’s worked for is out there, not here in Lonesome Creek.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Have you asked her what she wants?”
“She told me already.” At the cabin. “She wants a successful consulting business. Independence. She’s worked ten years to build her reputation. I can’t imagine she’d want to give that up.”
“And she can’t have that here? What I see is a community that’s already embraced her.
Visitors who respect her expertise. A rodeo program that will be more successful because of her vision.
Lonesome Creek is growing. Tourism is just the beginning.
We need someone with her skills, not just for the rodeo, but for the entire operation.
Someone who understands our goal of integrating orc and human culture.
A person who can see both worlds clearly. ”
The possibility unfurled inside me.
“She won’t know it’s an option unless someone tells her.” His pointed look made it clear who that someone should be.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, and a message from Dungar lit up the screen.
Got it. After I found the snow globe online with my cousin’s help, Dungar had volunteered to pick it up today. It’s the exact match to your description. Wait until you see it. You’re going to be amazed. I’ll be back with it later today.
“Good news?” Ruugar asked, noticing my expression.