I tried to calm my racing pulse as he opened the door to let his brother in. Every unexpected sound was going to terrify me until this was over. Maybe even after. I wasn’t sure I’d ever feel completely safe again.
“Dungar’s patrolling the perimeter,” Greel said as Hail shut and locked the door. “Tark’s got the forest covered. You’re safe inside the house.”
The idea of Hail’s brothers out there in the darkness, standing guard while I hid inside, made my chest tight with guilt and gratitude. These males barely knew me, but they were risking their lives to protect me.
“Good, th-th-thanks,” Hail said.
“Becken is in town, making sure our guests don’t cause any trouble.”
Greel and Hail shared a long look, some kind of silent communication passing between them that I couldn’t interpret. Finally, Hail nodded and bumped his knuckles against Greel’s shoulder in what looked like an orc gesture of some kind.
“Appreciate it,” Hail said.
“Family,” Greel said, as if that explained everything. “We’ll rotate the guard and meet up tomorrow morning to come up with a plan. Bakery. Five am.” He nodded at me once and slipped back out into the darkness, leaving us alone.
I stood in the middle of Hail’s kitchen, still shaking from adrenaline, and tried to process that I was actually here in his home. Safe, at least for tonight.
The silence felt strange after hours of hypervigilance. No footsteps to worry about, no sounds to analyze for threat levels. Just the quiet hum of the refrigerator and the ticking of a clock somewhere in the house.
“Are you hungry?” Hail asked. “I can make us some food.”
“I don’t think I could eat right now. My stomach’s still doing backflips. But you go ahead.”
“Something to drink then. Tea?”
The thoughtful offer made my throat tight. “Tea sounds perfect.”
I watched him move around the kitchen, filling a kettle and setting it on the stove. Everything was scaled to his size, from the counters to the cabinets to the chairs. I felt tiny in comparison, but not uncomfortable.
“This is a lovely home,” I said, taking in the details. Handmade pottery bowls on the counter, obviously his work. A few books stacked neatly on the windowsill. A mug by the sink, evidence of his morning routine.
“It’s not much,” Hail said. “But it’s mine. Well, ours n-n-now, I suppose.”
Another word that hit me unexpectedly hard. I’d been alone for so long that sharing space with someone for even a short time felt wonderful.
“Where should I put my things?” I asked, gesturing to my suitcase.
Hail’s cheeks darkened with what might’ve been embarrassment. “That’s…that’s a good question. I only ha-ha-have one bedroom. One bed.”
Of course he did. Single orc male, living alone. Why would he have a guest room?
“I can sleep on the sofa,” I said.
“Absolutely not. You’re my g-guest, and you’ve been through enough tonight. I’ll take the so-so-sofa.”
I strode partway down the hall and studied the living room, including the orc-sized couch that was probably too short for his frame. Then I scooted further down the hall and poked my head into his bedroom, returning to the kitchen.
“The sofa won’t fit you,” I said. “And the bed’s big enough for both of us. We can share it.” My cheeks flamed. “I mean…platonically. If you want. I don’t mind.”
Hail went still, the kettle whistling behind him. “You’d be comfortable with that?”
“You’re a gentleman,” I said. “I trust you not to try anything I’m not ready for.”
“Gentleorc,” he said, his voice strained.
“Right. Gentleorc.”
The kettle’s whistle was getting more insistent, and Hail turned to deal with it, giving me a view of his broad shoulders and the sword still strapped across his back. Even in his own kitchen, he hadn’t disarmed. He was taking my safety seriously.
