Chapter 13
Sarah
I woke to the sensation of Kael's mouth on my shoulder, his lips tracing a lazy path along my collarbone. Afternoon light filtered through the thin curtains, painting everything in soft gold, and I felt the warmth of his body pressed against my back.
"Again?" I murmured, my voice still rough with sleep.
"Always," he said against my skin, and the rumble of his voice sent shivers down my spine.
Sex with Kael was better than I'd imagined. Better than I'd thought possible.
The first time had been careful, tender, him taking such exquisite care with me that I'd nearly cried from the sweetness of it.
The second time—late last night after we'd both caught our breath—had been deeper, more confident, my body already learning his rhythms. The third time was me taking control of my own pleasure and his.
And now, this fourth time as sunlight streamed through the dusty windows, it was something else entirely.
He moved slowly, his hands mapping my body with the kind of reverence that made my chest ache.
Every touch was deliberate, purposeful, designed to draw out my pleasure until I was trembling and gasping his name.
And when I finally shattered beneath him, he followed me over the edge with a groan that sounded like my name and a prayer all at once.
Afterward, we lay tangled together, his hand tracing lazy patterns on my hip.
"We should get up," I said eventually, though I made no move to leave the warmth of his arms.
"Should we?" His fingers drifted higher, and I caught his wrist.
"Yes. I need to check my email. See if there's any news."
He sighed but didn't argue, pressing one last kiss to my shoulder before rolling away. "Fine. But I'm making lunch first." He grinned at me over his shoulder. "Grilled cheese sandwiches."
I smiled, feeling myself fall a little bit further.
An hour later, we were hiking up the mountain trail behind the cabin, the morning air crisp and cool against my flushed skin.
I'd dressed in layers—thermal shirt, fleece, my old hiking boots that I'd found in the back of the wardrobe—but I was still warm from our bedroom activities and the steady climb.
Kael walked beside me, his hand finding mine every few minutes. Sometimes he'd lace our fingers together. Sometimes he'd just brush his thumb across my knuckles. Sometimes he'd pull me close and press a kiss to my temple, my cheek, my lips.
It was constant. Affectionate. Overwhelming in the best possible way.
I'd never been touched like this before.
Not casually. Not tenderly. Not like I was something precious that deserved to be cherished.
After my dad died, my mom had... shut down. Not all at once. Not dramatically. But slowly, like a light dimming until there was nothing left but shadows. She'd stopped hugging me. Stopped tucking me in at night. Stopped reaching for my hand when we crossed the street.
My grandparents had taken over, and they'd loved me fiercely.
But they were from a different generation—practical, reserved, not given to displays of affection.
They'd shown their love through actions: making sure I had everything I needed, attending every school event, teaching me to be strong and independent.
But they hadn't been huggers. Hadn't been the type to ruffle my hair or pull me into spontaneous embraces or hold my hand just because. Neither had Uncle Rufus.
So I'd learned to live without touch. Had built my armor so thick that I'd convinced myself I didn't need it. Didn't want it. That physical affection was something other people needed, not me.
But now, with Kael's hand warm in mine and his lips brushing my forehead every few minutes, I was realizing how wrong I'd been.
I loved this.
Loved the casual intimacy of his touch. Loved the way he'd reach for me without thinking, like touching me was as natural as breathing. Loved the way he'd pull me close when the trail narrowed, his arm around my waist, his body sheltering mine from the wind.
It made me feel... cherished. Protected.
"You're quiet," Kael said, squeezing my hand gently. "What are you thinking about?"
You. How much I like this. How terrified I am that I'm going to lose it.
"Just... processing," I said instead. "A lot has happened in the last few days."
He pulled me to a stop, turning me to face him. His amber eyes searched mine, and I saw the concern there, the tenderness that made my chest tight.
"Are you okay?" he asked quietly. "With... everything?"
"Yes," I said, and it was the truth. "I'm more than okay."
His smile was soft, relieved, and he leaned down to kiss me. It was gentle, unhurried, the kind of kiss that spoke of affection rather than passion. When he pulled back, his hand came up to cup my cheek.
"Good," he murmured. "Because I'm not ready to stop touching you yet."
My heart did something complicated in my chest, and I had to look away before he could see too much in my eyes.
"Come on," I said, my voice raspy and rough. "We need to keep moving if I'm going to get a signal."
We hiked for another twenty minutes before my phone finally showed bars. I pulled it out, my stomach knotting with anxiety as I opened my email.
The first message was from Dr. Atkins's office sent yesterday afternoon. Medical examiner's report will be complete in two days. Will forward to all relevant parties upon completion.
Two days. That was good. That meant we were on schedule.
The second email made my blood run cold.
It was from Lisa Clay, a paralegal at the courthouse who'd helped me with filings on more than one occasion. The subject line read: URGENT - Warrant Info.
Sarah,
I don't know what's going on, but I thought you should know—Sheriff Dawson filed arrest warrants this morning. One for Kael Ironforge (expected) and one for YOU. Charges are aiding and abetting a fugitive, obstruction of justice, and conspiracy to commit murder.
I don't believe any of it, but I wanted you to know what you're walking into. Be careful.
- Lisa
My hands were shaking as I scrolled to the next email. This one was from Judge Farinholt's clerk, confirming our hearing: November 3rd, 2:00 PM. Three days from now.
"Sarah?" Kael's voice was careful, concerned. "What is it?"
I looked up at him, and the worry in his eyes made my chest ache. "Dawson issued arrest warrants. For both of us."
His jaw tightened. "What are the charges?"
"For you? Murder and escape. For me? Aiding and abetting, obstruction of justice, conspiracy." I laughed, but it came out bitter. "He's really committed to this narrative."
Kael's hand found mine, his grip warm and steady. "We knew he wouldn't give up easily."
"I know. But even if we win this—even if Dr. Atkins's report clears you and the judge dismisses the charges—Dawson isn't going to stop.
" The words tumbled out, my fear finally finding voice.
"He'll just find something else. Another charge.
Another excuse. He hates Orcs, Kael. He's not going to let this go. "
"Then we'll deal with whatever comes next," Kael said firmly. "Together."
Together. The word settled over me like a promise, even though I knew it was one we couldn't keep. In three days, if everything went to plan, this would be over. We'd go back to our separate lives, and "together" would become a memory I'd carry alone.
I turned away, staring out at the mountains, trying to swallow past the lump in my throat. "I just wish... I wish we'd been smarter about the body. If you hadn't dumped it on Orc land instead of—"
"We didn't dump it on Orc land," Kael interrupted. "Well, sort of."
I turned back to him, frowning. "What do you mean, 'sort of'?"
"The ridge where we tossed Stephen's body—it's technically Orc land. But the ravine he landed in is part of the Nantahala National Forest. Federal land."
My mind went completely still.
Then it started racing.
"Federal land," I repeated slowly. "You're sure?"
"Positive. Ruka and I scouted that area months ago when we were planning hunting routes. The boundary markers are clear."
"Oh my God." I grabbed his arm, my fingers digging into his bicep. "Kael. Federal land."
He looked confused. "Yeah? Is that... good?"
"It's perfect." I was already pulling out my phone, my hands shaking with excitement now instead of fear. "Don't you see? If Stephen's body was found on federal land, that means Dawson has no jurisdiction over the investigation. It's not his case. It never was."
Understanding dawned in Kael's eyes. "So even if he wanted to charge me—"
"He can't. Not without federal involvement.
And the FBI isn't going to pursue murder charges if the medical examiner's report shows accidental death.
" I was pacing now, my mind spinning through the implications.
"This changes everything. We can argue that Dawson's entire investigation was outside his authority.
That any evidence he collected is inadmissible. That—"
Kael caught me mid-pace, his hands on my shoulders, and kissed me. Hard. When he pulled back, he was grinning. "You're brilliant."
"You're brilliant," I corrected, breathless. "You just solved our entire legal problem and you didn't even realize it."
"I'm just pretty," he said modestly, but his eyes were dancing with amusement.
I laughed—actually laughed—and threw my arms around his neck. He caught me easily, lifting me off my feet, and I kissed him again because I couldn't help it. Because he was here, solid and real and mine for just a little while longer.
When he set me down, I was smiling so wide my cheeks hurt. "Come on. Let's keep hiking. I need to think through how to present this to the judge."
We walked for another hour, following the trail as it wound higher into the mountains. The air grew thinner, colder, but I barely noticed. My mind was too busy cataloging arguments, precedents, strategies.
Kael kept pace beside me, his hand finding mine whenever the trail widened enough to walk side by side. He didn't interrupt my musing, didn't demand conversation. He just... stayed close. Present. A steady, comforting presence that made everything feel more manageable.
We were rounding a bend when I spotted it: a large, flat stone jutting out from the hillside, its surface covered in faded carvings.
"Kael, look." I moved closer, running my fingers over the weathered symbols. They were clearly old—ancient, even—the lines worn smooth by time and weather.
Kael crouched beside me, his expression shifting to something reverent. "Native American," he said quietly. "Cherokee, probably. This area was part of their territory before..."
He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to.
"Before the Trail of Tears," I said softly.
He nodded, his jaw tight. "Orcs and Native Americans used to be friends, you know.
Before we were forced underground and they were forced onto reservations.
" His hand traced one of the carvings, gentle and respectful.
"We understood each other. Both of us living in harmony with the land.
Both of us seen as 'other' by the settlers. "
I watched him, seeing the pain in his eyes, the weight of history he carried.
"It breaks my heart," he continued, his voice rough.
"What was done to them. The forced relocations.
The broken treaties. The systematic destruction of their culture.
" He looked at me, and I caught the fierce emotion there.
"At least the government gave them some land back.
Recognized their sovereignty, even if it was a fraction of what they'd lost. Same with us Orcs.
It's not enough—it'll never be enough—but it's something. "
I reached for his hand, lacing our fingers together. "You have a good heart, Kael Ironforge."
He looked surprised, almost embarrassed. "I just... I think about what could have been. If humans had chosen friendship instead of fear. If they'd seen us—seen the Native people—as allies instead of threats." He squeezed my hand. "Maybe things would be different now."
"Maybe they still can be," I said quietly. "Different, I mean. Better."
He smiled, sad and hopeful all at once. "Maybe."
We sat there for a while, side by side on the ancient stone, surrounded by the ghosts of history and the weight of what could have been.
Then something clicked in my mind. Something about what he'd just said.
Sovereignty.
Recognized their sovereignty.
I sat up straighter, my heart beginning to race. "Kael. Say that again."
He blinked at me, confused. "Say what?"
"About the government recognizing sovereignty. About giving land back."
"I just meant that they acknowledged tribal sovereignty, even if—"
"That's it." I turned to face him fully, gripping both his hands now. "That's it. Kael, you're a genius."
"I... what?"
My mind was spinning, pieces falling into place so fast I could barely keep up. "The Orcish territories. They're by federal grant. Land held in trust by the federal government for Orc use."
"Yes." The little line between Kael's brows was so cute I wanted to kiss it.
"I'd need to do a little more research, but if that is the case, the same laws that apply to Native American reservations would apply to Orcish lands.
Including jurisdictional issues." I was talking faster now, excitement building in my chest. "Sheriff Dawson has no authority on sovereign land.
None. He would have needed permission from Orcish law enforcement or a federal warrant specific to sovereign land. "
Kael's eyes widened as he caught up to where I was going. "He didn't have either."
"No, he didn't. Because he's an arrogant ass who probably didn't even think about it." I laughed, the sound almost giddy. "Hell, I didn't even think about it until just now."
"Sarah—"
"This changes everything." I grabbed his face and kissed him hard. "You brilliant, beautiful man. You not only just saved yourself, but the rest of the village from Dawson's machinations."
He laughed, the sound warm and genuine. "I'm really just pretty."
"You're both," I corrected. "Pretty and brilliant and far too good for this world."
His expression softened, and he cupped my face in his hands. "Sarah—"
"Don't," I said quickly, because I saw where this was going. Could see the emotion building in his eyes. "We have two days left Well, three if we wait till the date of the hearing to head back. Let's not... let's just have this. Okay?"
He searched my face for a long moment, then nodded. "Okay."
But as we walked back down the mountain, his hand warm in mine and the solution to our legal problems finally within reach, I couldn't shake the feeling that three days wasn't going to be nearly enough.
Not for what I was starting to feel.
Not for the way my heart was already breaking at the thought of letting him go.