Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Dakvaar
I woke before dawn, my Kteer already humming with unease. The house was silent except for the soft hiss of the furnace and the occasional creak of settling wood. Normal, everyday sounds, made louder by the snow, which had been falling all night, now insulating the windows in thick, silent drifts.
I sat there in the hallway, listening.
Rosa’s breathing was deep and even, the way only a child’s could be—unburdened, untroubled. Good.
But Sofia…
I pushed myself to my feet, stifling my groan. I was too old to be sleeping on the ground like this, but it had seemed impossible not to. Last night, the need to watch over both females had been visceral, something that went deeper than even my Kteer, so I’d settled in to keep watch.
After a few quick stretches, I pressed my palm against the wall of the corridor and tipped my head toward the cracked-open door of the guest room, where Sofia’s breathing was shallow. Her scent was warm and familiar, but laced with something sharp and wrong.
Fever.
I pushed the door open wider. She was tangled in the blankets, one arm flung above her head, the other—her injured wrist—cradled against her chest. Her skin was too hot, flushed even in the dim light filtering through the curtains.
A thin sheen of sweat dampened her hairline.
My claws flexed, digging into my palms.
I should’ve killed him.
The thought was a snarl in my chest, my Kteer surging forward, demanding blood, vengeance. I forced it back, exhaling through my nose. Sofia needed me here, not pacing the streets, hunting.
Yesterday, after we’d secured Rosa, while Lila turned packing into a game, Kardok had joined Torrk in using their enhanced senses to search the lot behind the diner. They said there’d been no sign of Anthony or his car, and no one had seen him disappear.
I felt powerless, standing here while the monster who hurt my Mate roamed free…but I couldn’t leave her, and I couldn’t even alert the authorities. No cops.
But Kardok and Torrk had agreed to put out the word that they were looking for Anthony; if he reappeared in Bramblewood, my teammates—my friends would find him.
And together, we’d protect my females.
He doesn’t know where she is. She’s safe here.
And she would remain safe here. Mine to protect.
I pressed the back of my hand to her forehead. Too warm. Her pulse fluttered against my fingers, too fast.
Shock. The human body was fragile in ways orc bodies weren’t. The bruises, the fear, the adrenaline crash—it had all taken its toll.
I could fix this.
I turned and left the room, moving quietly down the hall. The kitchen was still dark, the only light coming from the glow of the stove clock. I filled the kettle and set it to boil, then pulled the small wooden box from the highest cabinet—the one I’d brought with me from home.
My father, who’d understood herbs in a way my mother hadn’t, had carved it for her when they were newly Mated.
The wood was smooth under my fingers, worn from years of use.
Inside, the dried leaves of k’veth still held their scent—earthy, slightly bitter, with a hint of something sweet beneath.
It grew wild in the high valleys of my homeland, a hardy plant that thrived where little else could.
My father had taught us to harvest it, to dry it, to steep it into a tea that could pull a fever from the bones.
I supposed the humans had an equivalent here in their world, but I hadn’t needed to track it down. Not when ibuprofen had done fine for me these last eight years.
I measured a pinch into the teapot, then added a few drops of honey from the jar Torrk had brought me last summer from his vacation to Seattle. The kettle whistled, and I poured the steaming water over the leaves, watching the liquid darken.
The scent filled the kitchen—familiar, comforting. Something in my chest eased, and I exhaled as I turned to find the bottle with the pain meds for Sofia. I could treat her aches as well as her fever.
I let it steep, then poured a cup, testing the temperature with my finger. Still too hot. I added a splash of cold water from the tap, then carried it back to the guest room.
Sofia hadn’t moved. I set the cup on the nightstand, then hesitated.
I should wake her. She needed to drink it while it was fresh.
But she looked so fragile, her dark lashes fanned against her bruised cheek, her lips parted slightly. The split in her lower lip had scabbed over, but the swelling was worse. The bruise along her jaw had deepened to a sickly purple, the skin around her eye puffy and discolored.
My vision blurred as my Kteer howled for blood.
I turned away, pressing my fists to my eyes until the red haze of rage receded. When I looked back, my face was a mask again—calm, controlled.
“Sofia.”
Her name was a rough whisper. I touched her shoulder, gentle. “Dkaar.” It was an old word my parents had used for each other: beloved. It had slipped out yesterday, when my Mate was in danger, and now I couldn’t seem to stop thinking of her that way.
She stirred, a small sound escaping her. Her eyes fluttered open, then widened slightly as she focused on me. “Dakvaar?”
“You’re feverish.” I reached for the cup. “Drink this. It will help.”
She pushed herself up slowly, wincing as she moved. “What is it?”
“Medicine.” I held the cup out to her. “From my world.”
She blinked at it, then at me, her expression flickering between suspicion and exhaustion. “I don’t—”
“It’s just herbs.” I kept my voice steady. “My father made it for us when we were sick. It will help the fever.”
She hesitated, then took the cup. Her fingers brushed mine, and the contact sent a jolt through me. She didn’t pull away.
The first sip made her cough. “It’s bitter.”
“I know.” I sat on the edge of the bed, close but not crowding her. “Drink it all. It works better that way. And I have pain pills for you, too.”
She took another sip, then another, her throat working. The scent of the k’veth wrapped around us, sharp and green. When she finished, and had swallowed both pills, she handed the cup back to me, her fingers trembling slightly.
“Thank you.”
I set the cup aside. “You should eat something too.”
She shook her head, then winced. “I’m not hungry.”
“Your body needs energy to heal, and you shouldn’t take medicine on an empty stomach.” I stood. “I’ll make you eggs. Soft, so you don’t have to chew.”
She didn’t argue. Just watched me with those dark, tired eyes.
I should leave the room before I did something stupid—like gather her into my arms and never let go.
But I knew she wouldn’t be able to get up without help, so I all but carried her to the guest bathroom, then passed her the bag of clothing Lila had fetched for her and made a mental note to run laundry this afternoon.
As she did whatever females did in the bathroom, I called Coach Ellis. It was early, but I knew he’d be awake, staring at the weather report as he drank his second cup of coffee.
“Snow’s still coming down,” he huffed. “Think you can make it to the rink?”
“I’m not coming in today,” I told him bluntly. “We don’t have a game this week, and I have to protect my females.”
There was a hesitation on the other end, and I could practically hear him rolling his eyes.
Still, he’d been coaching orcs long enough to know we were biologically wired to take care of our Mates, and that came before all else.
He might not know Sofia was mine, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Kardok and Torrk had blabbed to everyone.
“Fine,” he finally sighed. “I’ll run practice with whoever can make it in. Keep an eye out for text updates, and stay safe, Dakvaar.”
I grunted in acknowledgement, then hung up to make my Mate-who-wasn’t-my-Mate-yet breakfast.
The eggs were runny, the yolks still liquid gold when I slid the plate onto the coffee table. Sofia was curled on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, her cheek pillowed against the armrest. She looked smaller like this. Breakable.
Rosa was still asleep in the library, her dark curls a tangled mess against the pillow, one arm flung over a throw pillow from my favorite reading chair. In passing, I thought that she needed a stuffed animal to love.
I’d left the door cracked so I’d hear her if she woke.
I knelt in front of Sofia, nudging the plate toward her. “Eat.”
She pushed herself up slightly, her gaze flickering over the food. “You didn’t have to—”
“Of course I did.” I handed her a spoon. “Eat.”
She took a bite, then another. The eggs were simple—just butter and salt—but she ate half before setting the spoon down with a sigh. “I can’t.”
“That’s enough for now.” I took the plate away, setting it on the side table. “Rest. I’ll wake you if Rosa needs you.”
Her fingers curled into the blanket. “Dakvaar…”
I paused, chest tightening in what was probably hope. “Yes?”
“Thank you.” Her voice was rough. “For…everything. I’ve never had a friend like you.”
Friend.
I nodded once, then turned away before she could see the way my claws dug into my palms. I could live with friend, if that’s all I needed to be.
Until I knew her situation with Rosa’s father, a friend was all I could be. And that would be enough, if that’s what Sofia needed.
I was in the kitchen, scrubbing the pan from Sofia’s eggs, when I heard Rosa’s shriek—a high, panicked sound, followed by a thud as she rolled to her feet off the air mattress.
“Mama!”
I was moving before she’d finished the word, wiping my hands on my shirt as I hurried into the hall. She skidded around the corner, her pigtails bouncing, her face already crumpling.
“Mama—”
I caught her before she could barrel into the living room. “Hey. Hey, little one.”
She twisted in my grip, her dark eyes wide and terrified as she stared at her mother, now dozing on the couch. “Mama’s hurt!”
“I know.” I crouched in front of her, my hands on her shoulders. “But she’s okay. She’s just resting.”
Rosa’s lower lip trembled. “She looks scary.”
Oh, kitling. My heart ached for her pain. “She does. But she’s not scared. She’s just tired.”
Rosa’s breath hitched. “I want my mama.”