"This is good..."
I continued the massage, secretly adoring the sight of him so at ease. "Who usually does your braids?"
"I do them myself," he answered, his voice a slow, heavy drawl.
My eyes widened in surprise. I would have sworn he had a line of females willing to help him.
"Why don’t you ask for help?"
He opened his eyes again, something intense flickering across his face. "Only mates or parents do that."
My fingers froze in the middle of a braid. The silence in the hut suddenly became deafening, broken only by the crackling of the wood and the rhythmic sound of the water lapping against the tub.
I stared at him, processing the gravity of what I had just heard. What to me had been a practical task, a price to pay for information, was to him an intimate act.
"I-I didn't know," I whispered. My blood rushed up my neck, setting my cheeks on fire.
"Now you do," he replied, his voice grave with a seriousness that made me want to pull away and, at the same time, lean closer.
I should have stepped away and apologized, but his gaze held me, a silent challenge. He watched, waiting to see if I would flee now that I understood the meaning of the gesture.
With a sigh, I forced my fingers back to work. If the Ruk’hai expected me to retreat, he would be disappointed.
"Then you should have stopped me," I countered, trying to keep my voice steady even as my stomach tightened.
"I should have," he agreed. A dangerous glint flashed in his eyes as he tilted his head back, bringing his face so close to mine I could see his long eyelashes. "But I wanted to see if you dared to finish what you started."
I took a lock of his damp hair, softened by the oil, and resumed the braid. My fingers trembled at first, but steadied as the rhythm took hold. When I reached the last strand, Malek’s gaze burned into me, but I ignored it—ignored him.
I finished the knot with steady hands that masked my nervousness, letting my hands rest for a second longer on his broad shoulders.
"There," I whispered, my voice sounding strange to my own ears after so long in silence.
He rose from the tub, water streaming down his muscular body, leaving him completely exposed. I turned my face away after a few seconds of staring—I wasn’t made of stone, after all.
He went to the hearth to dry himself.
"The cage," I said, before I could lose my nerve and run far away from the temptation that was this orc. "Where is it?"
Malek watched me, his dark eyes reading my determination. He dressed in a clean loincloth that left very little to the imagination, and gestured to me. The tension from moments ago was entirely forgotten, or perhaps just buried under the weight of what was to come.
"Let's go."
???
Malek led me to a corner of the village I had never been to before. The area was secluded, tucked away behind a dense thicket of dark-leaved trees. Here, the air grew damp and cold, the sunlight barely managing to pierce through the heavy canopy above. Nestled among the trees stood a hut much like the others, yet what caught my eye were the white runes scattered across its surface.
Even though I was learning Okshakai, the orcish runes remained a mystery to me—as inscrutable as the tattoos etched into Malek’s own skin.
"What do they mean?" I asked, my fingers brushing one of the symbols etched into the hut’s weathered wall.
The Ruk’hai drew near, his towering presence at my side making me feel petite.
"Protection," he answered simply. "It’s the safest place we have."
He pressed his hand against the wall near mine and murmured a few low words in Okshakai. The magic stirred in response, and a shimmering opening appeared within the stone,catching me off guard. Malek stepped inside first, then paused, waiting for me to follow.
I stood frozen for a heartbeat, my mind reeling as I processed what I’d just seen. Malek had used magic. As far as I knew, such a gift was nonexistent among orcs. When I finally found the nerve to move, he led me toward the back of the cabin, where the cage sat waiting.
