Page 35 of Orc's Pretend Mate

“Cleaning up,” I echo.

He nods. “One piece at a time.”

We work in silence after that and the home slowly returns to its normal state of order. It’s not perfect—there are cracks, broken pieces, and scars that won’t go away. But it’s better.

And maybe, just maybe, so am I.

22

PHOEBE

Surveying the room, I’m left with a mix of emotions. The house is back in order, but there is an air of superficiality to everything. Probably because I know beneath this air of order and semblance of control danger and chaos swirls.

We’re not safe. Vapas is in every bit as much danger as I am now, that much is certain. He might have been able to get away without drawing the wrath of the Maulavi if he’d given me up but he didn’t.

He protected me.

And we haven’t even… my cheeks burn thinking about it. I was so caught up in the moment, swept away by hormones and need. I wasn’t thinking, not that he pushed me, if anything, I pushed him. It was like I became someone else, someone I’ve never been. Owning my own desires and sexuality for the first time in my life.

That was good, in the moment, but now I’m left looking back at it without the fire of passion and I’m wondering who in the hell that woman was? It certainly wasn’t me.

Vapas moves into the living space and takes a seat on the couch. He hunches his shoulders and stares at the floor. I chew my lip, unsure what I should do. Cleaning up the house and putting things right allowed us both to keep things at bay, but now we’re back where we started. What now?

Moving slow, my feet heavy with reluctance or fear, I hesitate before stepping over the imaginary line of the living space. I could sit opposite him on the singular chair, or I could sit at his side on the couch.

The decision carries an incredible weight with it, taking on some insane level of importance in my head. If I sit opposite, I’m sending a message that nothing we just shared is real. That it was a mistake.

If I sit at his side what message am I sending? That I’m in it with him? That I’m willing? I am, aren’t I? But I’ve felt his hesitation. Something holds him back as much as me.

Fuck it. I’m in this. He’s not my past. I’m not who I was either.

I take the seat next to him, close enough that our thighs are touching. He lifts his head, glancing over and giving a half smile.

“A credit for your thoughts,” I say.

He grunts as he turns and looks. Confusion is clear on his face.

“Credit?” he asks.

“Oh, uh, shit,” I curse but that’s in Common and he doesn’t speak that either. I blush and Vapas chuckles. It’s deep, throaty, and genuine. I arch an eyebrow. “Are you laughing at me?”

I’m joking, mostly at least. He shakes his head, still chuckling. He moves his hand and lays it on my leg, close to the knee. I’m acutely aware of the weight and the small part of me that wants him to move that hand higher. Much, much higher.

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s just…” he trails off, inhaling deeply then sighing. “Nothing.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” I say. “Tell me. What is it? You keep coming almost to say something then you back off and don’t say it. What is it?”

The laughter dies, as does the mirth on his face. He doesn’t frown, but there is no hiding the weight that falls across him. His eyes bore into mine as if he’s searching for something, but what, I don’t know.

“Phoebe,” he whispers as his hand tightens on my leg almost convulsively.

“What is it?” I ask, but I’m not sure I want to know anymore. Fear is a soft flutter, like feathers trailing over my skin.

“It is… nothing,” he says, clearing his throat and easing his grip. “I was thinking… we cannot do this alone.”

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