Page 25 of Orc's Pretend Mate

“I’m sorry,” I say.

That’s not what I meant to say but those are the words that come out. He’s bent over the table mopping up the spill while I speak. He stops, staring at the cloth or the table or nothing at all. He doesn’t move, look, or respond. I chew the inside of my lip, unsure what to say or do.

“Sorry?” he asks at last.

Something in the way he says it, the tone of his voice, the tension in his arms and shoulders, something. It feels like a hammer to my chest. My breath catches in my throat, causing me to make a soft gasp. Unshed tears fill my eyes. Swallowing is hard but I manage to at last. I raise my hand then drop it, even more uncertain of what to say or do.

Vapas turns his head, slow, so, so slow and when his eyes meet mine there is so much pain and confusion in them. They glisten wetly, as if he too is about to cry. I can’t hold back my tears any longer. They slip free, trailing down my cheek.

“Vapas… I…”

What? I, what? What have I done?

“I am sorry,” he says, pressing his free hand to his chest while gripping the cloth even tighter in the other. “This…” he waves his hand back and forth between us. “I did not mean. It was not…”

“No, it’s not y?—”

*knock* *knock* *knock*

I yelp and jump forward, towards Vapas. Someone pounds on the door again, hitting it so hard they might be trying to break it down.

16

PHOEBE

Vapas puts his hand on my shoulder as he steps in front of me and moves towards the door. The crumpled towel remains, lying in a heap on the table and for whatever reason it feels important. As if that rumpled piece of cloth is a metaphor for this entire mission. Vapas growls, shakes his head, then looks over his shoulder.

“Go upstairs,” he says in his deep, rumbling voice, motioning his hand behind himself.

His attention is locked on the door, as is most of mine. A knock on the door cannot be good. For a brief moment, I’m frozen in fear. The whiplash of emotions leaving me paralyzed.

Vapas growls, a sound that sends a shiver racing down my spine while also breaking my paralysis.

“I’ll—”

“Go,” he orders before I finish.

I don’t move. My feet feel glued to the floor, my mind spinning with what-ifs. What if it’s not safe? What if it’s the Maulavi? What if this is the moment they come for me?

The pounding comes again, louder, more insistent. The door shakes in its frame, and Vapas lets out another growl, this one sharper, edged with warning.

“Phoebe,” he snaps. “Upstairs. Now.”

He shoots a glare over his shoulder and any further protest I might have had dies. I slip past him and then run up the stairs. My heart pounds and I wish it was only from exertion but it’s so much more.

Crouching at the top of the stairs, I hear the scrape of the sliding lock and the opening of the door. My heart is in my throat and every nerve is on edge. There is no door to the stairs that I can close for protection. All I can do is press myself against the wall and listen.

And pray. I’ve never been particularly religious, but I do believe, so I offer up my prayers. I’ll take any help I can get right now. If it’s them, if they’ve come for me, he won’t be able to stop them. No one will.

I know Vapas’ voice, but not the other one. And, worst of all, they’re talking in Urr’ki which means of course that I have no idea what is being said. It doesn’t sound heated, though.

I wait, doing my best to not let my trembling give away my presence. It goes on for what feels like forever. When the door closes at last, I exhale sharply. My knees feel weak and I almost drop to the floor.

“It is safe,” Vapas says below.

I make my way slowly down the stairs, knees feeling like jelly, so I hold to the wall to keep myself steady. I don’t see him when I reach the ground floor, but I hear him in the kitchen, so I join him there.

He already has two mugs. When he sees me, he gestures to the one closest to me. My hand is shaking as I pick it up. The towel remains where he’d left it. Wrinkled and seemingly accusatory of something, though I don’t know what.

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