Page 59 of The Orc's Thief
“Aye, not a problem. Just let me wash here, then we can grab some dinner downstairs, and I’ll go talk to the groom.”
It’s better than having Tessa worry about sleeping next to me. But it tears me up, this distance between us. None of my friends who found human mates ever talked about it, but I wonder—did it hurt them just as much to see their mates’ reluctant expressions?
Then Tessa steps forward and places a hand on my arm.
“That’s all right. We can make do.” She releases me, frowns at the neatly made bed, then looks up at me. “Do you snore?”
My mind goes blank. “Er, maybe? No one’s ever complained…”
She narrows her eyes. “Iwillwake you if you do.”
“That’s fair.” I scratch the back of my neck, still in disbelief. “You’re agreeing to share the bed with me?”
“Onlythe bed,” she clarifies, her cheeks flushing. “And you will keep your clothes on.”
I nod in agreement, though I already know that’ll be uncomfortable. I’m sweating as it is, and the room will only get warmer with the two of us packed in here.
“All right. Let’s wash, then. I’m starving.”
Tessa’s voice is a little louder than usual, her words bossy, and it takes me a moment to realize what’s going on. She’s embarrassed but doesn’t want to admit it. I hide a grin, not wanting to make the situation worse.
As we shuffle around each other to use the washbasin, it’s impossible not to touch. Her arm brushes mine, her boot catches the edge of my heel, my hair swishes past her shoulder—it’s a clumsy dance in a too-small space, and every touch leaves me humming with interest.
I splash water on my face, wishing it were cold instead of warm, and rebraid my hair. As I straighten, I smack my forehead against one of the roof beams.
“Fuck!”
My forehead throbs, but it’s my pride that takes the worst hit. Still, when I glance down at Tessa, sitting cross-legged on the bed, I see nothing but genuine concern in her hazel eyes.
“Do you need the salve?” she asks. “There’s still some left over.”
I shake my head. “Takes more than that to knock me out.”
“Yes, a good hit with a wooden board, I remember,” she quips, the corners of her lips lifting.
I laugh, and she stares up at me, her gaze fixed on my mouth. For a moment, I think she might be staring at my tusks. Then her scent blooms in the small room, sweet and so fucking powerful, it nearly knocks me off my feet.
Tessawantsme.
I inhale deeply, letting the realization wash over me. It calms me in a way I didn’t expect. It fans my need for her, too. She might not know what to do with that desire yet, but the fact that she’s attracted to me is a fucking relief.
I thought I might have imagined the moment at the stream earlier today or that she was simply admiring my body. But this is different.
She wantsme.
I reach down and offer her my hand. “Come, wife. It’s time to go to dinner.”
Chapter
Twenty-Two
TESSA
Arlon holds my hand all the way down to the taproom, and I don’t shake him off.
We’re playing pretend for the innkeeper and the patrons—at least, that’s what I tell myself. The truth is, his hand is warm, his grip strong, and I’m a weak woman. I simply don’t want to let go.
We drop our dirty laundry with the maids in the hallway, then pass the bar and the massive fireplace spilling light and warmth into the room. Since we were here half an hour ago, the room has filled up even more. Arlon tugs me toward a table in the corner.
