Page 27 of Running from the Orc
“Nay,” I repeated, though I knew my tone was still harsh. Then I shook my head and contradicted myself. “Aye. If she wants to go, she should have that freedom. But ye…”
“I have nae plans for her, Varkaan,” my brother repeated quietly, studying me. “What doyewant her to do?”
I had to look away, unable to bear the kindness and pity in his expression.
Unfortunately, my gaze landed on my cottage. Cozy, comfortable. Empty.
I imagined what ‘twould be like to return from a hunt and be greeted by a female who cared for me. Who caredaboutme. A female whom I loved.
“I want her to stay,” I whispered, not realizing what I was going to say until after I said it.
“And will ye stay as well?” Drakolt asked.
I turned a tortured gaze his way and my older brother nodded solemnly. “If she is yer Mate, brother, then ye have my blessing to make a future with her in the village. The clan will welcome her, and Sorcha will be glad.”
If I let myself focus on that happy future, I might cry.
“She doesnae want me,” I snapped. “She keeps trying to run, to return to her people.”
“Really?” My chief’s brows rose. “Because I’ve heard a verra different story from Gelma. Our grandmother says Roxanna hasbeen content these last days, living and working with her. She’s made nae move to run.”
That…made no sense.
I blinked at my brother, trying to understand his words.
Slowly, Drakolt’s lips curled into a grin, his tusks gleaming in the sunshine. “Do ye remember the ancient tradition of the Mate Hunt?”
Numbly, I shook my head, and my brother—still grinning at my expense—folded his arms across his chest.
“Gelma explained it once when I was young. There used to be a tradition where a Mated female would run into the wilderness and the male, in order to claim her as his, would have to track her down and mark her.”
“Mark her?” I murmured, my mind already buzzing with possibilities.
“Bite her,” Drakolt said simply, rocking back on his heels. “Plant his seed in her, make her his.”
The thought was so perfect it almost made me groan aloud.
Mayhap my brother guessed, because he suddenly chuckled and one hand shot out to slap me on my shoulder. “Mayhap ‘tis all ye need, Varkaan. A Mate Hunt.”
“Ah, lads, there ye are.”
Drakolt turned to face the new voice—Gelma, hobbling up to us—but I was still staring into the distance, contemplating his words and the possibilities. Is that what Roxanna had been doing, without realizing it? Did she feel the same connection to me that I did to her?
“I’m glad to see ye home, Varkaan,” she was saying, poking me with one of her impossibly long fingers. “And I ken someone else who would be, were she here.”
My brother snorted. “If ye’re speaking of Roxanna, we were just discussing her.”
“Good.” Gelma folded both her hands atop her walking stick, and I focused long enough to see the sparkle of humor in her eyes. “Because Varkaan needs to attend her.”
“Aye,” I rasped. “Where is she?”
My grandmother shrugged. “I dinnae ken.”
Drakolt gaped. “Yelosta human, Gelma?”
But the old woman was still smirking at me. “Och, nay, I dinnaeloseher. She ran away.”
“What?” I barked.
