They were a done thing, after all. He had the kohl, she had her bond. Theoretically they had all the time in the world to figure out how to navigate their relationship and each other.
Clark glanced at the window and frowned.
They were definitely going to be completely snowed in for at least a day, probably more. The snow drifts were already dangerously close to touching the window pane, which meant he needed to get on with checking her generator, their fuel supply, and making sure everything was sealed up tight.
It also meant that he was locked in the cottage with her for an unknown amount of time — a boon and a very real problem wrapped up in a cute little bow.
On one hand it was great because he wouldn’t have been able to leave her anyway. On the other, it was going to be a lot harder to resist instinct when she was never more than ten feet away at any given moment.
An orcish woman would have felt the same need he did. They would probably already be wrapped up in her nest right then, rubbing up against each other like cats in heat, but his sweet Nelly wasn’t orcish.
She was a witch — a cagey, private one at that.
His stomach dropped at the realization that the invitation to her nest probably wouldn’t be coming any time soon.
Well, it’s sure as shit not gonna happen if you keep staring at her while she does the damn dishes.
Clark jumped up from his seat and rushed to help, the back of his neck heating. If his parents saw him sitting there letting his mate do all the work after making their meal, they’d probably disown him. Or worse: tell his brothers.
It was the orcish way to look after your peers. When someone stepped out of line, it was typically the immediate elders, usually siblings, who corrected their behavior. His big brothers took that job seriously, which was probably why he was so well behaved.
Mostly.
When he came up behind her at the sink with their plates, Nelly jumped and gave him a wide-eyed look over her shoulder. Gingerly accepting the plates with her gloved fingers, she said, “You don’t have to do that. I’ve got it.”
“You made breakfast.” He tried to nudge her to the side in order to take her spot at the sink, but his mate widened her stance and refused to budge. He could have lifted her easily, but if she really didn’t want to move, he didn’t want to push her, either.
“Really,” she stressed, “it’s fine. I don’t like— I’m not super comfortable with people touching my things, so I’d prefer to wash them.”
He opened his mouth to ask why, but one glance at her uncomfortable expression closed it again. Sensing that it would do him more good to back off when she gave him a clear signal than to keep pushing, he forced himself to take a step back.
Offering her a reassuring smile, he said, “Okay, sugar. If it makes you feel better, you can do the dishes. How about I check on the generator? I have a feeling we’ll be here a few days and I want to make sure everything’s working as it should.”
Nelly narrowed her eyes. “I already checked it.”
“I’m sure you did,” he replied, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. “But it’s my job to take care of you now, see? Since you won’t let me do the dishes, I’ve gotta do something with my hands. It’ll makemefeel better if I can see with my own eyes that you’ll be safe here until the storm blows over.”
For a moment her expression remained wary, but it eventually faded. Looking a little abashed, Nelly flicked her gaze back to the sink. Turning on the hot water faucet, she asked, “You really weren’t trying to point out all my failings before, were you?”
“No, I really wasn’t.”
She reached for the sponge. It looked like a strawberry and rested in a lime green, clover-shaped dish.Cute, just like everything else about her.“You were just trying to make sure I was— that everything was taken care of?”
“Yes, sugar,” he rasped. “Promise.”
Clark fisted his hands by his thighs, resisting the desire to run his knuckles down the elegant curve of her jaw.
He was a touchy sort of guy. Most orcs were, in his experience. Family ties were reinforced with hugs, kisses, fighting, and everything in between. Touching and being touched by people who loved you was one of life’s greatest pleasures.
The act of touching one’smatewas sacred above all things. The god Burden, maker of orcs and the being who carried the Earth on his back, burnt his hands when he reached for his mate, the goddess of the sun. And yet he kept reaching for her even when his skin blackened and cracked. In that one mythical act, every orc was taught that to touch one’s mate was absolutely essential.
It transcended physical pain, social niceties, and obligations. It waseverything.
Clark wanted to touch Nelly more than anything in the world. It was not only because he was desperately attracted to her, but because she was his sunshine, his own pint-sized goddess. Touching her was its own act of worship — even when it was as chaste as a brush of his fingers against her jaw.
But his little witch was skittish. Her needs were different than his own. He would respect her boundaries.
If he didn’t, what kind of mate would he be, anyway?
