Chapter 12 Kai
KAI
Idon't give a damn who sees.
The moment Saela's trembling stops being about adrenaline and starts being about delayed shock, I sweep her up into my arms. Her slight frame fits perfectly against my chest, arms wrapping around my neck with desperate strength that makes something primal roar to life in my ribcage.
Never. Never in my life have I felt terror like the moment Drek burst into the council meeting, gasping about Sera leading Saela away from the settlement. The rational part of my mind shut down completely, replaced by singular focus that burned through every other consideration like wildfire.
"I've got you," I murmur against her hair, carrying her toward the longhouse with strides that eat up ground between us and safety. "You're safe now."
Her face presses into the hollow of my throat, breath warm against skin that feels hypersensitive to every point of contact. The trust implicit in her position—completely vulnerable, allowing me to carry her weight—makes my chest tight with emotions I don't have names for.
Behind us, I'm dimly aware of warriors finishing their sweep, Ursik's voice coordinating prisoner transport and security measures.
But their efficiency fades into background noise as my entire world narrows to the woman in my arms and the overwhelming need to get her somewhere private where I can confirm her safety on levels that go beyond visual assessment.
The main path through the settlement brings curious glances from clan members finishing evening tasks, but no one attempts to stop us or ask questions. My expression probably discourages casual conversation, focused intensity that communicates urgent business rather than romantic interlude.
Not that the distinction matters right now. Politics and appearances hold no weight against the driving necessity to shield Saela from further threat, to surround her with walls and locked doors and my own presence standing guard against anything that might cause her harm.
The longhouse door yields to my shoulder, warmth and familiar scents welcoming us into space that represents sanctuary in ways I never fully appreciated before tonight.
I carry her toward the main hearth where firelight paints golden patterns across stone walls, setting her down only when we're completely enclosed by safety.
But instead of stepping back once her feet touch solid ground, Saela's arms tighten around my neck with desperate strength. Her gray-green eyes are wide with residual terror and something else, something that looks like recognition of how close we came to permanent separation.
"Don't," she whispers when I start to pull away. "Please don't let go yet."
The request breaks something fundamental inside my chest, defensive walls that have kept emotion at manageable distance crumbling under the weight of her vulnerability. She needs comfort, needs grounding, and every instinct screams at me to provide whatever will help her feel secure again.
My arms encircle her smaller frame, hands mapping the delicate architecture of her spine through layers of winter clothing. She's real and whole and breathing against my chest, heart beating rapid rhythm that gradually slows as safety registers on levels deeper than conscious thought.
"It's over," I say quietly, voice rough with emotions I'm not examining too closely. "She can't hurt you now."
"I know." Saela's words come muffled against my shoulder. "I just... there's so much. Too much happening at once."
Understanding hits with clarity that makes my hands still against her back.
Tonight wasn't just about immediate physical danger.
It was about betrayal from someone she'd begun to trust, confirmation that the Stonevein threat extends beyond abstract possibility into active pursuit, and the crushing realization that her friend Ressa remains lost somewhere in hostile territory.
Any one of those would be enough to shake someone's equilibrium. All three together, concentrated into the space of minutes, would overwhelm anyone's emotional processing capacity.
"What do you need?" I ask, pulling back just enough to frame her face with my hands. "Tell me how to help."
Her gray-green eyes search mine with intensity that makes my pulse quicken, recognition of something shifting between us that goes beyond protector and protected into territory I've been avoiding since the moment she stumbled into our festivities.
Then she rises on her toes and kisses me.
The contact sends electricity through my nervous system like a lightning strike, soft lips moving against mine with desperate hunger that speaks to needs extending far beyond simple comfort.
Her mouth tastes like winter air and underlying sweetness, feminine heat that makes rational thought dissolve into pure sensation.
For a heartbeat I'm too shocked to respond, too caught off guard by the sudden shift from emotional support to intimate connection. Then she jerks back as if burned, hands flying to cover her mouth while horror dawns across her features.
"I'm sorry," she gasps, backing away with movements that suggest flight instinct triggering despite safe surroundings. "I didn't mean... I shouldn't have..."
"Saela." Her name emerges rough with want I can't hide anymore. "Come here."
I reach for her with movements deliberately slow, giving her every opportunity to refuse or pull away if this isn't what she actually wants beneath the emotional overwhelm. But instead of retreating further, she allows me to draw her back into the circle of my arms.
"I've been an idiot," I murmur against her forehead, admitting the truth I've been denying for weeks.
"Ursik's been telling me to stop holding back.
Shae keeps saying you need someone to choose you instead of circumstances forcing decisions.
Even Falla thinks I'm wasting time with unnecessary distance. "
Her eyes widen with surprise and something that looks like hope. "What are you saying?"
"That I don't want to hold back anymore." The admission feels like stepping off a cliff, abandoning safety for terrifying possibility. "That watching you walk into danger tonight made me realize how much you mean to me."
"Kai..."
"That if you want this—want me—then circumstance and politics don't matter. You can have me right now, no strings attached."
Her answer comes in the form of her mouth finding mine again, but this time there's nothing desperate or panicked about the contact. Instead she kisses me with deliberate intent, lips parting under gentle pressure as the kiss deepens into something that tastes like choice and mutual need.
My control fractures completely as her tongue touches mine, soft exploration that makes heat pool low in my abdomen. Massive hands frame her face with reverence while I memorize the texture of her skin, the way her breath catches when I trace the line of her jaw with careful fingertips.
"I want to feel wanted," she whispers against my mouth, words barely audible but carrying weight that makes my chest constrict. "Not scared or trapped or like I'm someone's burden. Just... wanted."
"You are." The declaration emerges with conviction that surprises me with its intensity. "You have no idea how much I want you."
Her hands find the laces of my tunic, fumbling with fastenings made clumsy by emotional overwhelm and inexperience with orcish clothing. I cover her fingers with mine, helping guide the leather through eyelets until the garment loosens enough to pull over my head.
Cold air hits exposed skin for exactly one moment before her palms map the breadth of my chest, exploring scars and muscle definition with wonder that makes me feel like something worth discovering.
Her touch burns paths across flesh that's been touched by others but never explored with this combination of curiosity and reverence.
"Your turn," I say roughly, hands finding the hem of her wool tunic.
She raises her arms in wordless permission, allowing me to peel layers away until bare skin glows golden in firelight. Her breasts are smaller than orcish females but perfectly proportioned to her lean frame, nipples tight peaks that beg for attention I'm dying to provide.
"Beautiful," I breathe, thumbs brushing across sensitive skin that makes her arch into the contact.
We shed remaining clothing with movements that grow more urgent as bare skin meets bare skin, hands mapping territory that feels both foreign and familiar.
Her lean muscles tell stories of survival and scarcity while my bulk speaks to different kinds of hardship, complementary strength that fits together despite obvious physical differences.
When she's completely naked, standing in firelight that paints golden highlights across windburned skin, I have to stop and simply look.
She's gorgeous in ways that have nothing to do with conventional beauty standards—sharp intelligence in gray-green eyes, determined set to narrow shoulders, collection of small scars that speak to resilience rather than fragility.
"Second thoughts?" she asks with vulnerability that makes my heart clench.
"Never." I draw her against my chest, skin-to-skin contact that sends shockwaves through my nervous system. "Just trying to memorize this moment."
Her laugh carries surprise and pleased satisfaction. "We have time for memorizing later."
Then her hands are exploring lower, tracing the line of my abdomen until her fingers wrap around length that's been aching for her attention since the first night she stayed in my longhouse.
The contact makes me groan against her neck, control fraying under gentle exploration that feels like worship and torture in equal measure.