Page 26 of The Midnight Arrow
“Not in the way you suspect, little witch,” he replied, cutting me a sharp glance out of the corner of his eye. “We’ve encountered one another in the village at times, nothing more. I didn’t lie to you about my dealings with him. I truly have none.”
“He seems to hold a strong opinion about you,” I commented.
“Most do.”
“And why is that?”
Lorik stilled on the path before turning to face me. We lingered inside the line of trees that wound around my cottage, just outside the protection barrier spell.
“Because most Allavari don’t trust what they don’t understand,” Lorik told me. “And most of them do not understand me. They don’t understand why I don’t kiss the ass of every noble I encounter, why I don’t involve myself with their celebrations and affairs, why I don’t live in Rolara, why they never see me with a lover, a friend, or family. To them, I amother. I always have been and I always will be. It’s not my duty to make them understand me. I simply couldn’t care less.”
My gaze dropped to his lips as he spoke. He must’ve washed while I’d been visiting Aysia’s grave. The ends of his hair were damp, and he smelled of my soap, infused with whitedrop oil.
“But you…” Lorik said. “I care about what you think of me, Marion.”
“You do?”
He nodded. “You’re the only one I can say that about in Rolara.”
“We know so little about one another. How can you say that?”
“Sometimes you just know, little witch. Attraction is fairly easy to ascertain,” Lorik said, his hand sliding up my back, making me shiver. When his hand trailed up my neck and his shorn claws scraped pleasurably against my scalp, I nearly gasped. My throat seemed to tingle with that sweet touch. “And I’m certainly attracted to you. But connection? A true connection? That’s rare. But I have it with you. Do you feel it too?”
My heart was thumping in my chest.
“Yes,” I whispered.
The sound he made was a cross between a purr and a growl. “Mmm, I’m glad.”
The smile that crossed my face was perhaps the first genuine smile since Veras had arrived, and it felt goofy and too wide, stretching my features until I thought they might crack.
“You’re a beautiful woman,” Lorik told me, watching me quietly. I got the strangest sense that he was soaking in my smile, enjoying it, savoring it. There was patience lining the sharp bones of his face, as if we had all the time in the world, lingering on the edge of my cottage’s land. “I hope you know that.”
“Thank you,” I said quietly. “You are too.”
Lorik’s brow raised, and my face flamed.
“Not a woman, obviously. Beautiful, yes,” I said hurriedly. I laughed through my mortification. “Gods, I’m terrible at this.”
“You think I’m beautiful?” Lorik teased.
“You know you are,” I said, still recovering from my blunder. “You know the effect you have on people. I’ve seen it.”
Lorik took pity on me. He leaned down, and I held my breath, wondering if he would try to steal a kiss, as he’d already threatened.
I was both disappointed and immensely caught off guard when he brushed his lips across my temple. His lips were soft and warm. He let them linger there before kissing my forehead, holding me in place with the hand still tangled in my hair.
Then I felt him tense, his muscles going tight against me.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, pulling back with my flushed cheeks on display, frowning.
Lorik was looking at something in the forest. When I turned, the breath in my lungs turned to ice.
Glowing blue eyes were watching us from the darkness. A hulking creature with a hunched back stepped forward, its tattered cloak billowing out from behind it.
A Sever.
Twelve