13. Watch and Listen
~ GRACE ~
On our third night at the hut, since I had remembered the instructions from the previous day, and made lunch without help, Voski told me he’d prepare our evening meal. And because I hated cooking, but recognized the need for it, I let him.
The evening air was cold as the sun sank behind the mountains, but I didn’t want to move. It had been dry all day. Instead of being cooped up in the hut, Voski built a fire under the trees, and now was preparing to roast the last of the meat Gil had sent with us.
Neither of us spoke.
We’d trained all morning, made love after lunch, dozed in bed, and now we were outside, in the orange light of sunset. And for the first time, I could do nothing, and watch my mate.
The tension he’d held since the day we met was gone.
His shoulders were loose. He smiled easily, though rarely broadly.
He chuckled often. And his eyes… Those dark, penetrating eyes were keen and sharp, always fixed wherever he concentrated his attention.
First on the flames of the fire as he fed increasingly large pieces of wood into it, until it crackled merrily.
Then on the flat, heavy pan he’d use to cook the meat.
Then on the vegetables he sliced on a flat rock.
I focused on his hands, fascinated by them.
Long fingers, thick tendons, palms large enough to engulf my entire fist. They were a man’s hands. Until our bond, I’d always admired male hands for their strength and precision, and arms and shoulders for their power.
But those hands weren’t only capable of precise cutting, and delicate knots. They weren’t only skilled enough to tie a fly to use for fishing, or mend a harness, or throw a knife.
They were large enough, and strong enough to lift me.
Yet tender enough, and skilled enough, to make my body sing.
They locked in my hair, forcing me to stare into those dark eyes.
And they pinned me to a bed—or his body.
Yet they teased, and trailed, and stroked with such gentleness, they could turn my skin to heat and ice.
Heat and ice?
No.
Fire and ice.
Voski, my mate, was fire and ice.
The cold control when a task was at hand.
The fire of rage when his heart was offended.
The cool restraint when his authority was questioned.
The white-hot need when he wanted me.
He was a conflicting measure of opposites: A little bit wicked—and now I could see, a little bit soft. As the edge of his fear left him, and the anger faded, his humor and compassion rose to take their place.
I was coming to understand why others followed him, even without rank. There was a fullness to him. A surety. And now that he’d stopped fighting the bond… a solid, quiet dignity that I hadn’t seen before.
I admired him a great deal. And I loved this side of his nature.
“What is it?” he hadn’t raised his eyes from the vegetables he chopped, but he’d obviously sensed my scrutiny.
I swallowed, but was honest. “I was thinking about how much I like this side of you.”
His brow furrowed. “What side?” He glanced up to meet my eyes, taking a quick measure, then went back to his task.
But I felt the bond pulse when he looked at me. I smiled.
“The side of you that can smile,” I said. “You’re happier here. But also a little mischievous. And… thoughtful.”
He shot me a heated glance, and images rose before my mind’s eye of the gasping, sweaty pleasure of his touch, and his body and—
“I felt that,” he muttered. “If you want a meal of actual food, you’ll need to turn your mind to something else for a time. Or I won’t be held responsible for you going hungry,” he said with a low chuckle.
“You make me hungry.” The words just came. I shocked myself. He made me shock myself. But they were also true.
He went still, staring at me. Then his smile grew. “I like this side of you,” he said, brushing his hands on his thighs as he stood and started toward me.
“What side?”
“The side that isn’t afraid of me.”
I tipped my head, watching him approach, and let my eyes trail up his long, muscular body, the trill in my belly met with the warm rush from the bond.
His body was strong, lean. He moved like a cat, all casual saunter until something caught his attention, then sharp-eyed focus, and coiled strength, waiting to pounce.
When he came to a stop at my toes, I bit my lip, then said what I thought. “I’m not afraid of you. Unless you’re angry.”
The lines on his brow deepened, but he nodded. “I know I taught you to fear that. But you should be certain—you have nothing to fear from me, Grace. No matter how angry I become, I’ll never hurt you,” he said seriously.
But you already have. I pushed the uncharitable thought away.
I knew he meant what he said. Only time would tell if he could live by it. But something echoed in his tone. A layer of his heart that was still obscured from me. “What is—”
“Grace, I love your eyes on me. But now we have a choice to make: Because you looking at me like that makes me want to say to hell with this meal, and just have you again.”
My stomach flipped and I fought a smile.
“But if I pick you up and carry you back into that hut, by the time we come out, our dinner will be in the belly of the wildlife, and this fire will be cold. So, you’re going to have to tell me which appetite you want satisfied first. As a rule, I can only do one at a time.”
I tipped my head. “As a rule?”
He grinned. “There are small exceptions.”
“Oh? Are those exceptions available right now?”
“Sadly, no, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
I pretended to pout, but really, I was delighted by his playfulness. Then he dropped to squat, elbows on his knees, and hands gripped before him. But his eyes were fast on me. He arched one brow in the question, and didn’t touch me.
And I knew: He wouldn’t touch me unless I chose him over the meal.
I put on a show of thinking hard, tapping my chin. Then sighed. “I suppose we’ll have to eat food, first.”
The light in his eyes didn’t die, but I saw him douse the fire as he nodded, then squeezed my ankle, straightened, and turned back to the food.
“Voski?” I asked as he walked away.
“Hmmm?”
“Why aren’t you afraid of me anymore?”
He stopped abruptly, then turned, frowning. “What are you—”
“I can feel you. Today, you haven’t been afraid at all.”
He blinked. I’d caught him off guard. His head dropped and he frowned at the ground before he met my eyes again. “It was never you I was afraid of, Grace,” he said softly.
There was a flare in the bond—a hum of tension. A cold thread laid alongside that warm cord that tied our hearts together. Instinctively, I reached for him—not with hands, but within myself. Enveloping that cold little thread, holding it to me, to warm it.
‘Will you… tell me?’ I asked carefully through the bond. It was still a struggle for me, unless we stood very close to each other. Voski was better at it.
He nodded slowly. “Not now. But one day. Yes.” Then he exhaled, his head dropping, like the words had taken some effort. “Yes, I will.”
“Why does that make your breath puff?”
He stared at the ground. “Because I’ve never wanted to talk to anyone about it. Ever.” Then he raised those eyes, pinpoints of light piercing out from under the shadow of his brows. “But with you, I do.”
I could barely breathe. It was a gift. I knew it. I didn’t know how I knew it. But there was something so fragile. So precious in him.
“You can trust me,” I breathed. “I promise.”
He nodded. “I know. It’s fucking crazy, but I know.”
“Good.”
He stared at me, then started back. For a moment I was afraid I’d managed to anger him—then when he stopped at my toes once more and offered a hand, my guts twisted tight. Was he going to make love to me after all?
I gripped his offered hand, and he tugged me effortlessly to my feet—and immediately pulled me into his embrace, tipping up my chin and kissing me—long, slow, and soft.
Not the beginning of lovemaking. But something else.
A precious thing.
~ VOSKI ~
Saying those words to her had opened something in me. Something I’d known for days, but hadn’t found a voice for.
For once, she didn’t speak into it—but I felt her in the bond. As if she held onto me. Held me. Not the cling of a desperate child. The embrace of a woman. A heart that was my match. My mate.
The storm in my chest had eased over these days. My anger was virtually gone.
I wanted her desperately, but that evening was different. I moved carefully. Thoughtfully. Every step a preparation. Every word chosen. Every passing moment, a countdown.
With that simple conversation, something had shifted. A boundary I’d released. A fence torn down.
I was ravenous.
Not for the food.
But for her.
To show her. To be known by her.
Now, she stood at my toes… trusting.
I was overwhelmed with the most intense desire to give her something. Let her hold a piece of me. The very thought made my instincts scream in protest, but I shoved them down.
The problem was, she was so new. Still so innocent.
I knew if I tore back this veil, it could never be shrouded again. So, I hesitated.
Not in fear. But in wisdom. She was new, and adventuring, and wonderful. I needed to take care with her. But perhaps her recklessness would prove beneficial?
She stared up at me, curious. But not ignorant. She could feel it too. The bond thrummed.
“There’s something I’d like to show you,” I said, my voice low, graveling, because I wanted her so, but had to fight it.
Grace’s lips curled up. “I told you, I always want to learn.”
“Are you certain? I would have to teach you. You’d have to listen and… obey.”
To my delight, her smile broadened. “I like it when you instruct. You’re a very good teacher.”
A low rumble of approval rolled in my chest. “Then, let’s get started.”
Her brows rose, and she looked around. “Started with what?”
“I need mushrooms for the meal. The kind shaped like teardrops. Do you know them?”
I almost laughed when her face fell, but she recovered quickly, because she was so willing to please. “Yes, I know them.”
“There’s a patch about a hundred feet north. Look for the elm blossoms. They like the same soil.”
She nodded again, tried to cover her disappointment. I had to cover a smile.
“They shrink a great deal when they’re cooked, so we’ll need about twenty.”
“I’ll find them.”
“Take your cloak, it will be colder in the shadows and away from the fire.” I kissed her quickly, thanked her, pretended the anticipation she felt brimming in the bond was for what would come after the meal.
Then I turned back to the vegetables I’d been chopping and began to mentally calculate how to get the meat tied and hung again so we wouldn’t lose it while we were otherwise engaged.
Grace collected her cloak from the hut, then walked quickly north, offering another dazzling smile as she passed.
I smiled back, then waited for her to disappear into the dark before I launched into action.