Chapter Seven
Silas
I wake with a jolt, the early morning light burning my eyes. I sit up so fast my muscles scream in protest. My gaze darts to where Beatrice was sleeping below but her bedroll is empty.
No. Fuck! I fell asleep? I don’t fall asleep on watch. Ever. What the fuck is wrong with me? How could I be so fucking careless? Rage tears through me, but underneath it, a cold terror spreads, hollowing me out. If something happened to her while I slept, if she is hurt, or worse…
I throw myself down the slope before my brain can catch up with my legs, fear slamming against my ribs.
“Beatrice?” I call, heart pounding. I push through low branches into the small clearing where she made camp.
Her things are still there. Blanket tossed aside, satchel unopened.
She wouldn’t have left the little supplies she had behind.
I drop to one knee, fingers brushing the dirt. My nostrils flare—
“Shit!”
I rise slowly to my hooves as a chill slides down my spine like ice water.
My fists clench at my sides. Orcs. Male Orcs.
Their scent is heavy and strong. She wouldn’t have stood a chance against them, but I would have, and I completely failed her.
How didn’t I hear them coming? Scent them before they got to her?
The treaty between the Orc clans and the Minotaurs is new and still brittle, barely worth the hide it’s written on. But the right of conquest? Stealing a female outside of claimed territory? If I charge into their lands, it’ll be an act of war.
A war I can’t start, even if every part of me is screaming that I should.
I rake a hand through my hair, eyes scanning the trees like maybe she’ll suddenly reappear. Furious with her arms crossed, calling me an idiot Bull for overreacting and following her. I’d take that, anything over this gnawing, spiraling dread.
A low whistle cuts through the silence behind me, and I whirl so fast I nearly take off the speaker’s head with my blade.
The man—if you can even call him that—jumps back, hands raised.
He looks…strange. Slender, dressed in tattered leathers, with wild, tangled hair and eyes that gleam like a wolf’s in the dark.
Two twitching wolf ears poke out from the top of his head, and behind him, a bushy tail sways with unconcerned ease.
“Whoa, easy there, beefcake!”
My eyes narrow. “Who the hell are you?”
“Ulric,” he says, giving a lazy bow. “Professional wanderer, charming outlaw…” He pauses, then gestures to his ears. “Also a little bit wolf…complete with tail! Want to touch it?”
I growl, stepping toward him. “Tell me what you want before I rip it off.”
The man only grins wider. “Touchy. But I understand you’re missing your female. Pretty little blonde thing, hard to miss when she’s being carried off like a sack of potatoes by Orcs.”
My heart stops. “You saw?”
“Yup. Middle of the night. I was downwind. Lucky me, or they’d have sniffed me out.” He scratches behind one of his ears casually. “She put up a hell of a fight, though. Bit one of them, I think. She’s got fire. I like that.”
I step closer, holding my blade toward him. “And you just stood there and watched as she was being taken?”
“Well, I considered helping,” he says, rolling his shoulders. “But I don’t have any weapons, three Orcs are crap odds, and well, I don’t know her.” He glances at me. “Also…I might’ve been briefly considering eating her myself.”
“What?”
“Not like that. I mean, literally eat her. She smelled so rich like filet mignon. My mouth was watering when I scented her. I thought, Gods, she’d melt on my tongue.”
I point the tip of my blade closer to his throat, but he shrugs, unfazed. “Wolf, remember?”
“You’re going to tell me which way they went. Now.”
“Whoa whoa, big guy.” He grins again, revealing his pointed canines, palms out like he means no harm. “Slow your hooves. I’ll take you to her. Sure. But, not for free.”
My fingers flex around the hilt. “You think this is a joke?”
The smile falters, just slightly. Enough to show he knows how close he’s dancing to the edge. “No. I think you can’t just walk into an Orc camp without starting a war. But I can.” He pats my chest like we’re friends.
He’s lucky I don’t take his hand off for that.
“You need me,” he goes on. “And I want to help. But I also want a deal. Fair’s fair, right?”
I stare at him, rage simmering just beneath my hide. I want nothing more than to snap his neck and track her myself. But if he’s telling the truth…I can’t afford to waste time for Beatrice’s sake.
I exhale hard through my nose. “What kind of deal?”
Ulric taps a claw against his chin, pretending to think. “Gold. Let’s say…fifty pieces.”
“Fifty?” My voice comes out like a snarl. “For information you already have?”
“For a rescue mission, big guy.” He flashes those teeth again. “I won’t just tell you where she is, I’ll sneak in, help get her out, and maybe keep your horns from decorating an Orc tent.”
“You could just lead me into a trap.”
“I could. But why would I kill my own payday? You’re worth more to me breathing than rotting. Dead men don’t hand over coin, and I’m not in the business of working for free.”
I hate him.
But, I hate the thought of Beatrice being hurt even more.
“Fine.” I spit the word. “You get me in. You help me get her out. Alive. You get your coin after.”
“Half up front.”
“No.”
He shrugs like he doesn’t care either way. “Then, no deal.”
Every second I waste with him, she gets further away.
I reach into my belt pouch and count out twenty-five gold pieces, tossing them at his feet. “That’s your down payment. The rest when she’s safe.”
He crouches, scooping them up without shame. “Now we’re talking.”
“Show me where they took her. Now.”