That’s not what I meant, and I’m sure she knows it. She avoids my eyes and gives a little shrug.
“This was the first place I came after I left the caves,” she says. “It seemed good enough. Quiet. But I’m thinking it’s about time to expand my horizons.” Her eyes glimmer, and she waggles her eyebrows.
“The firehouse guy and his hose. Right.” I smirk.
She lets out a low chuckle, adding another neat pile of clothes to her bag. “We both know the two of us have been hiding out here for long enough. Maybe it’s about time we pushed ourselves outside of survival mode. Things can’t exactly stay the same, can they? Not when you’ve got two mates in tow.” Frannie steps closer and the next thing I know, she’s pulling me into a fierce hug that knocks the wind out of me.
Pulling back, she peers into my face, and I can see my distorted reflection in her big, black eyes.
“Gus asked me out for coffee. An actual date.” She drops onto the side of her bed with a sad little smile. “Do you know how many times I’ve been asked out before? Never. Not once. Ogres don’t date in the caves. It’s just not a thing that we do—more of a courting period, followed by jumping straight into marriage. And since I left the caves, no onehas ever asked.”
By no one, she means Mag. He’s the only male I’ve ever seen speak to her in this little village.
“I’m sure he—” I protest.
“He might want to,” she replies sharply. “But he’s afraid if he’s seen with me, it’ll remind all his human buddies that he’s not all that much like them after all.”
I snort. Mag is an orc. A half-orc, sure. But he doesn’t look anything like the humans in his pub.
“He thinks if he acts like them, they’ll forget,” she continues. “It’s that kind of small-town thinking I left the caves to escape.”
I’m not sure that Port Yarrow is any more open-minded, although I don’t say that out loud.
Selfishly, I’m glad she’s getting away from this place for a few days. If things do take a turn, she won’t be around to take the heat.
We spend the rest of the day packing, forcing more food into Aster and then forcing him to sleep in my bed when he starts to droop. He needs sleep more than I do, so I relegate myself to the sofa for the night. With my feet popping out over the edge and a tassel-covered cushion for my pillow, not to mention the vague sense of impending doom churning my gut, my night is far from restful. It takes hours before I’m able to fall into a light doze that’s broken every hour as I’m half-expecting the customs authorities to come swarming onto the beach any moment. The night drags on endlessly, and when I finally wake, my eyes are gritty and there’s a pulsing ache at the top of my head.
We pile back into the little rowing boat at first light and then we’re away.
The vague sense of unease from yesterday is still present in my gut and still doesn’t fade even when we step back onto land in Port Yarrow.
Instead, the feeling grows deeper and more twisted as we make our way toward Kit’s shop.
Frannie’s charging in front, clearly enthusiastic to get started on whatever she imagines running Kit’s shop will entail. She turns back, frowning at our pace as Aster and I lag behind.
“We’re not all ten feet tall, you know,” I pant at her.
She huffs and slows her pace a little, but it still means she’s in front when we reach the alleyway leading to Kit’s apartment. She freezes, hand raised to knock.
“Reva.”
My stomach drops as I try to peer around her. “What? What’s wrong?”
Is there another mate hanging around in this alleyway?
“It’s open,” Frannie says.
I take a few steps closer. “He left the door unlocked?”
She shakes her head, stepping out of the way so that I can see Kit’s doorway.
The door isn’t unlocked.
It’s off its hinges.
Broken open.
The dread from yesterday surges through me again and I stumble inside, heading up the stairs on numb feet and fighting the rising sense of panic that’s trying to take over. So his door is broken, maybe there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation. Maybe—
