Chapter 015 Multiple Tracks
I woke up tangled in Thokk's sheets, my body pressed flush against the solid wall of his chest. His arm curved around my waist, heavy and warm, holding me in place even in sleep. For the first time in two years, I hadn't jolted awake scanning for exits, mapping escape routes in my head. No hypervigilance kicking in at dawn, no instinctive reach for a weapon that wasn't there. Just... this. Him.
How strange it is to feel safe. The admission slipped out before I could filter it. "I haven't woken up without immediately checking exits and planning escape routes in two years."
Thokk stirred, his breath ruffling my hair. His eyes opened slowly, those deep green depths focusing on me with that intense, cataloging gaze he had. "Morning, breela." His voice was rough from sleep, the orc endearment wrapping around me like one of his blankets. Little light. It fit, somehow.
I shifted, propping my chin on his chest to look at him properly. His tusks gleamed faintly in the morning light filtering through the curtains, and the faint scent of pine soap clung to his skin—my soap, now, from last night's shower. "Morning. Sleep okay?"
"Best in weeks." His hand stroked down my back, big palm spanning most of it. "You?"
I hesitated. Safe felt too vulnerable to say outright again, like admitting weakness. But with him, it didn't sting the way it used to. "Yeah. Really good."
He smiled, slow and satisfied, pulling me closer until my legs tangled with his under the covers. His body was all heat and muscle, a perfect fit that made my pulse kick up. Last night replayed in flashes—the sofa, his mouth on me, the way he'd worshipped every inch until I shattered. My cheeks warmed just thinking about it.
"We should get moving," I said, though I made no effort to pull away. The luminooks couldn't wait. Those poor younglings, glowing spines snuffed out in some lab somewhere.
Thokk nodded, but his thumb traced lazy circles on my hip. "Soon. Five more minutes."
I let myself have it. Five minutes of pretending the world outside didn't exist—no poachers, no Blainsworth sons with their endless resources and grudges. Just us, in this cozy sanctuary he'd built. But the pull of work was strong. I was already mentally sorting evidence: the boot prints, the wrapper, the portable pen parts. Professionals didn't leave that much by accident.
Finally, I extricated myself, swinging my legs over the bed's edge. Thokk watched, unhurried, as I padded to the bathroom. The house smelled of last night's stew, faint and comforting, mixed with the earthy undertone of orc—leather, clay, something primal that made my stomach flutter.
The shower was quick, hot water sluicing away the last of sleep's haze. I borrowed his towel, wrapping it around me, and one of his t-shirts again. It hung to mid-thigh, soft against my skin. When I stepped into the hallway, Thokk was there, fresh from his own shower, towel slung low on his hips. Water droplets traced the ridges of his abs, disappearing into the V of muscle below.
His eyes darkened as they raked over me. "Cassidy."
Before I could respond, he closed the distance, backing me against the wall with his bulk. Not rough—just inevitable, like gravity. His hands slid under my thighs, lifting me effortlessly so my legs wrapped around his waist. The towel tented between us, his arousal hard against my core through the thin fabric of my borrowed pants.
"I can't stop thinking about last night," he said, voice dropping to a rumble I felt in my bones. "About the sounds you made. The way you taste."
Heat pooled low in my belly. "Thokk—"
His mouth crashed down on mine, tusks grazing my lips just enough to send sparks through me. I kissed him back fiercely, hands fisting in his damp hair. He rocked against me, the hard length of him pressing right where I needed, friction building through our clothes. No time for undressing, just this raw, urgent grind.
"Yes," I gasped into his mouth, nails digging into his shoulders. His hands gripped my ass, guiding the rhythm—slow at first, then harder, pinning me to the wall. The pressure coiled tight, my clit throbbing against him.
He growled low, the vibration humming through both of us. "Come for me, breela. Let me feel you."
Pleasure crashed through me in waves, sharp and blinding. I cried out, clenching around nothing, thighs trembling against his hips. He didn't stop, thrusting against me until—with a final, guttural growl—he shuddered, heat spilling between us as he found his own release.
We stayed like that, panting, foreheads pressed together. His grip softened, one hand coming up to cup my face. "You okay?"
"More than." I kissed him softly, tasting salt and him. "That was... intense."
"Good intense." He set me down gently, steadying me until my legs worked. The hallway felt smaller now, charged with what we'd just done. Possessive. Real.
We cleaned up quick—no awkwardness, just easy domesticity. Thokk pressed a kiss to my temple before heading to the kitchen. "Breakfast?"
In the kitchen, he moved with that precise efficiency I was starting to crave. Toast popped up—each slice buttered precisely to the edges, jam spread in an even layer that stopped exactly a quarter-inch from the crust. Coffee brewed strong, poured into mugs aligned just so on the counter. The table overlooked the back meadow, morning sun gilding the grass.
We sat close, knees brushing. "Interviews today," he said, sliding me a plate. "Start with staff and regulars near the pens. Aunt Morna at the general store, Mary at the Red Fang, Vorn and Allie at the Pottery Barn. Delivery drivers too."
I nodded, chewing thoughtfully. The toast was perfect, crisp outside, soft inside. "Evidence points to repeat visits. That fence was cut with wire cutters, resealed with a specialized crimping tool—not amateur stuff."
His eyes met mine, serious. "Do you think this is related to you?"
The question hung. I set my mug down. "I don't want it to be. But the timing... If Blainsworth's people found me—"
"They won't." His hand covered mine, warm and steady. "Not without going through me. Through all of us."
I squeezed back, but the fear lingered. Those sons—ruthless, connected. What if the poachers were scouts? Luminooks glowed with potential millions; Blainsworth-level money could fund that easy.
"We'll check every lead," I said. "Together."
Treelee waited outside, saddled and patient. The sorhox mount nickered as we approached, her scales warm under the sun. Thokk boosted me up first, then swung on behind, his chest to my back. Main Street was quiet mid-morning, Dusty Gulch waking slow—postcard Old West with a fantasy twist, saloons and pottery shops nestled against pine-covered hills. The air smelled of fresh bread from somewhere, pine resin sharp.
We tied Treelee at the jail, heading inside. The office was neat as ever—files stacked, maps pinned. Thokk pulled the evidence folder, spreading photos across the desk: boot prints from the clearing, matching the in-town fence damage. Soil samples bagged beside the energy bar wrapper, pen components laid out.
"Boot prints consistent," I said, measuring one with a ruler. "Size ten men's hiking boot, Vibram sole pattern. Deep tread for off-road."
Thokk nodded, queuing security footage on his laptop. Grainy black-and-white showed a figure in dark clothing, baseball cap low, same time Tuesday 2:17 PM, then Wednesday. Slipping toward the pens, purposeful.
"Same build," he murmured. "Scouting."
"And the fence—cut clean, crimped back like they planned returns." I leaned closer, heart picking up. "This is organized. Professionals."
"Pharma or military after the bioluminescence." He closed the laptop. "Interviews first. Let's move."
Aunt Morna's general store smelled of spices and leather goods, shelves crammed with everything from luminook-safe feed to tourist trinkets. She beamed as we entered, wiping hands on her apron. "Thokk! Cassidy! Looking cozy, you two. Favorite couple in town."
Thokk cleared his throat. "Aunt Morna. Seen anything suspicious near the pens? Two-three days back?"
Her face sobered. "Mary from the Red Fang mentioned it. Saw someone poking around the back fence Tuesday, before lunch. Told her to come by the jail, but she's shy about official stuff."
I jotted notes. "Description?"
"Didn't say details, but said they looked out of place. Khaki getup, too many pockets for a tourist."
"Thanks." Thokk hugged her quick—or as quick as an orc hug gets. "We'll check with her."
Red Fang Saloon next door was dim, cool, sawdust underfoot and the faint tang of ale. Mary bustled from behind the bar, face paling when she saw our badges. "Sheriff. Deputy."
"Mary," Thokk said gently. "Aunt Morna said you saw someone near the luminook pens Tuesday?"
She nodded, twisting a rag. "Before lunch. They were wearing one of those fancy hiking outfits. Khaki with all those pockets, like for tools or something. Moving strangely, sort of crouched low, stopping to examine the fence in places. Didn't look right—too deliberate."
My pen flew. "Height? Build?"
"Average human, maybe five-nine. Didn't get a face—baseball cap. Headed toward the wild colony side."
Thokk thanked her, and we moved on. Pottery Barn hummed with wheel sounds, clay scent thick. Vorn hunched at a kiln, stuttering a hello. "Th-Thokk. C-Cassidy."
Allie approached from a tour group, wiping clay hands. Observant eyes, sharp. "Heard about the thefts. I saw something yesterday, around four PM. Heading to the luminook area."
Thokk leaned in. "Tell us."
"It wasn't the usual tourist type at all. Woman in a t-shirt, capri pants, and a smock—like artist's, with pockets. Big sunglasses, severe bun under a broad-brimmed hat. Held a little silver device, scanning like. Purposeful gait, not meandering."
"Scanning device?" Vorn piped up, stutter easing. "L-like for metals? Or glow?"
Allie shrugged. "Pointed it at the ground, pens. Weird."
I exchanged a look with Thokk. "This may not be a solo operation."
"I agree," he said, jaw tight.
Outside, Treelee stamped as we mounted. Two suspects, distinct: khaki hiker Tuesday, smock woman yesterday with tech. Professional tools, repeated recon. My gut twisted—Blainsworth resources could buy that. Or corporate hunters. Either way, stakes climbing. Those luminooks deserved better. And us? We had to stop this before it hit home.