"Brenneth offered me work," she said.
"I heard." She felt his smile against her hair. "Word travels fast in a mountain fortress. By tomorrow, everyone will know that mykrennahas skilled hands."
"Skilled hands." She turned her face into his shoulder, hiding her flush. "Is that what they'll say?"
"Among other things." His arm tightened around her. "They'll say the captain's woman is clever, and capable, and that she makes the best stitches Brenneth has seen in years." His voice dropped lower. "And they'll say their captain is the luckiest orc in the Iron Wilds."
Delia lifted her head to look at him.
In the blue twilight, his features were all shadow and sharp edges—the strong line of his jaw, the curve of his tusks, the burn of his amber eyes watching her with an intensity that made her breath catch.
"I missed you today," she admitted. "During the celebration. I kept looking for you."
His expression turned hungry.
"I thought of nothing but you." His voice had gone rough at the edges. "Sitting in that room, discussing patrol schedules and supply requisitions, and all I could see was your face when the elder named you under our protection." He cupped her jaw, his thumb tracing her cheekbone. "I wanted to throw the whole council out and come find you."
"Why didn't you?"
"Because I am trying—" He exhaled, a sound that was almost a laugh. "—to be a responsible captain. A patient mate. A male who does not drag hiskrennainto dark corners every time she looks at him like that."
Delia's pulse jumped. "Like what?"
"Like you want me to stop being reasonable and patient."
The words hung between them, charged as lightning before a storm.
She should have been embarrassed. Should have looked away, made some joke, retreated into the safety of propriety. That was what she'd been taught. What good women did.
But she wasn't in Valdara anymore.
"What if I do?" she whispered. "Want you to stop being reasonable and patient?"
Ralvar went very still.
For a heartbeat, she thought she'd miscalculated. Gone too far. Been too forward, too hungry, toomuch—
Then he moved.
One moment she was sitting on the wall. The next, she was being lifted, cradled against his chest as he was strode towardthe shadows at the courtyard's edge. There was an alcove there, where two rough stone walls met in a narrow pocket of darkness, tucked away from the main paths but not entirely hidden. Moonlight barely reached it; torchlight from the distant torches flickered just enough to outline his massive frame as he set her down, back to the cold stone.
The chill bit through her tunic, contrasting sharply with the furnace heat of him pressing her against the wall, blocking her from any stray eyes.
"We shouldn't—" she started, but her voice came out breathless, unconvincing. "Someone could—"
"No one comes this way after dark." He was already gripping her hips, pulling her against him. "And if they did, they would know better than to interrupt their captain."
"Ralvar—"
He kissed her, his tongue sliding past her lips, his tusks pressing at the corners of her mouth as his tongue slid deep. She moaned into him, and his whole body shuddered, a low growl vibrating through his chest straight into hers.
"Quiet." His mouth moved to her jaw, her throat, the sensitive spot below her ear. "You need to be quiet, mykrenna. Unless you want the whole settlement to know what I'm doing to you."
"What—" She gasped as his hand slid beneath her tunic, rough palm skimming the soft swell of her belly, then higher to cup the heavy weight of her breast. His thumb circled her nipple through the thin shift, pinching just enough to make her arch.The night air kissed her exposed skin where he'd rucked up the fabric.
"You're shaking." His voice was rough, wondering. "Already. Just from this."
"I can't—" Her hands fisted in his vest. "I can't help it. When you touch me, I—"
