“Before you came along, I had a brother named Tirin. He was young—barely a baby when we escaped one of the surrounding cities during the Great Eruption.”
I listen intently, grateful when he continues.
“Tirin was a young hunter and what we called a ‘Ruh’duar.’”
My eyebrows draw together while hearing him say a word in his native tongue. The way it flows from his mouth is mesmerizing.
He notices my attention and continues, “It means ‘cave born’. He did not know the ways of the old trolls.”
“What do you mean? Most of the stories I’ve heard of your people involve flesh-eating and human ravaging.”
Ra’Sa laughs bitterly. “We have never been cannibals, you strange woman. We were people of strict tradition. A cold people, but a successful one. Tirin was too eager—too optimistic.”
I bite my lip, realizing the bandage around my middle is complete. I could move away and put my clothes back on, but I do not wish to. Especially since I find I enjoy the sound of his voice.
“I don’t see how this left a scar.”
He purses his lips. “Patience,Ruh’flor.” Ra’Sa spreads his hand over my bandage, coating the wound in a delicious warmth. “When the humans came, he saw our people’s salvation. But not for himself… for me. For his quiet, brooding older brother.”
My breath catches.
“He is a good brother,” I say gently, despite realizing that he’s only used past tense verbs to refer to him.
“Was,” Ra’Sa grits out. “And hewasbeheaded by my king to save us from an attack from the giants. His head was given to the giant king to stop a war that came anyway. I raged against the heavens and cursed my gods. But in the end, I realized how I could honor his death. You see, we lost our father and sisters in the eruption. He wanted me to have a chance at what we lost.”
The story pours out of him, and I wonder if he’s ever told it to another soul.
My mouth goes dry, and every cell inside of my body goes deathly still. I don’t need to know this about him. Too personal.
“I’m… sorry,” I say softly.
“It is the only scar I bear on my soul and serves as a compass for my purpose.”
Somehow, he’s drawn close to me. I can taste his breath on my lips.
“And what is your purpose, Enduar?”
“To find a mate. And from my future matehood, I will have children.”
I pull back.
Children.
That word radiates through me like lightning. It reminds me of screams, and pain, and laying on my back alone. No one knew where I was; no one even knew that the girls would be born, save the wolf who protected me.
I hurt and bled and starved. And then I vowed, ‘Never again.’
His wanting children changes things for good.
“And what if you are mated to one of the pregnant women?” I ask, my voice a slightly higher pitch.
The Enduar looks at me, brows furrowed and confused by my distance. “I would care for the child.”
“But you would want your own?”
“Yes. Someone to name after Tirin.”
Fuck.