Page 63 of Orc's Pretend Mate

Who Phoebs? Who’s going to fix this if not you? What, you going to wait for your hero to come and set it all right? How’s that worked out for you? Huh?

I stop dead in my tracks. Vapas continues on six steps before he pauses and looks over his shoulder. Though his face is cast in deep shadow, I can see, or imagine I see, his deep frown.

“Are you okay?” he asks after at least three heartbeats of waiting.

My heart slams against my ribs. I let out a long, shaky breath, then slowly shake my head.

“No.”

Vapas doesn’t move or speak. A moment stretches and then there is a rumbling grumble.

“Can you walk?”

“We need to talk,” I say.

40

VAPAS

She stands in the middle of the cavern casually defiant as if we’re not in a precarious enough position. Halfway between the home of my people, who want to kill us, and the compound of the Zmaj who want to kill me. We’re at risk of patrols from either side. And let’s not even consider the beasts that call under the mountain home, any one of which could pose a serious threat.

I try to think of a way to convince her to move. I could make her, of course, but no. She may have lied to me but that is on her, not me. I will not stain my honor by mistreating her. No matter that she deceived me, she does not deserve that.

“Talk?” I ask, taking one step closer. I gesture around us with both hands. “This is not safe.”

“I know,” she says, her voice sounds as if she is choking on the words. She raises her own hands, drops them, then crosses her arms over herself. “Vapas, please. I need to… please.”

“Please?” I ask, shaking my head. “Please what, Phoebe?”

“Give me a chance?” she whispers.

I stare not out of some mean intent but because I don’t know what to say. Have I not given her a chance? Did I not take her in? Protect her from the Maulavi, every time at great personal risk? Did I not honor her? Am I not on this suicide mission for her? What more chance does she want?

My heartbeat and breathing are coming faster. My hands involuntarily curl into fists and I have to force them to relax. None of that is helping. We need to move, whatever this is, it is better to get it over with and continue. Once the Zmaj find us they will end me anyway, what happens between now and then is of little consequence.

“Talk,” I say, waving my hand between us.

“I…” she stops, clears her throat then rubs her face with both hands.

I wait, not so much with patience but with determination to let her do what she’s going to do. It seems pointless, knowing that the end result will be the same. My death is inevitable and will come soon enough.

“Vapas, I’m sorry,” she says, her small, lithe body shaking.

“I understand,” I say, turning away, I resume walking. I only make it three steps when I realize that she’s not following. I stop, bow my head as I try to keep my frustration under control. Finally, I turn and there she stands, in the same place, her eyes reflecting the dim light of the fungi. “What? What is it Phoebe? You have apologized. I accept. We must continue. I would end this journey sooner than later.”

She shakes her head while running her hands up and down her arms and shivering. The caverns are cool and I am not surprised she is chilled. There was no time to get her a cloak or anyprotection from it. An instant pang of regret thrusts unbidden into my thoughts. Bah, she betrayed me, is that not sufficient reason for me to have not thought of getting her a cloak?

No. No it is not.

I close the distance between us and take her into my arms, offering what warmth I can. Her body conforms against mine perfectly. The circle of my arms around her completing something more than just the physical touch.

She wraps her arms around my waist and presses her face to my chest. My anger and hurt remain, but they do lessen. How can I remain angry with her? Allowing her a chance to talk seems the least I should do.

“I’m so sorry,” she murmurs, voice muffled against my chest.

I move us closer to the wall and then let her go. Rummaging through the packs of supplies that I had gotten from the Resistance, I look for something to use to keep her warm. She rubs her arms while waiting in silence.

Buried at the bottom of a pack is a tightly folded thin blanket. I snap it open and wrap it around her shoulders, she grasps onto it with a grateful smile. Her eyes glisten with unshed moisture while she purses her lips to stop them from trembling.

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