"Nothing." The word came out rough.
But it wasn't nothing. It happened twice more before we reached the common house. Two more warriors, two more chest-thumps, two more waves of rage that threatened to drown my reason. Each time, I had to physically restrain myself from doing something I'd regret—or maybe something I wouldn't regret at all.
The violence of my reaction should have alarmed me. I was their chieftain, their leader, bound by duty to remain level-headed and fair. I had no claim on this human woman who'd appeared in our lives mere hours ago. No right to this savage possessiveness that made me want to plant myself between her and every male who dared look her way.
She's under my protection, I rationalized. A guest who saved my nephew's life. Of course I'd feel protective.
But protection didn't explain the heat that coiled low in my gut when she moved beside me, or the way my pulse kicked up whenever she spoke. It didn't explain why I couldn't stop cataloging details—the graceful line of her throat, the way her lips curved when something amused her, the subtle scent of her that cut through everything else.
I hadn't taken a lover since Eelara descended back to the underground over a year ago. Clearly, deprivation had made me... reactive. Jordan was objectively beautiful, undeniably skilled, remarkably brave. Any male would respond to such a combination.
Simple biology. Proximity and scarcity.
Nothing more complicated than that.
I repeated it like a mantra, trying to make it true.
The common house dominated the village center like a sleeping giant, its broad timber frame weathered silver bycountless seasons, its stone foundation marking it as one of our sturdiest structures. Smoke twisted lazily from the chimney holes, carrying promises of roasted meat and fresh-baked bread that made my stomach growl.
I shouldered open the heavy door, the familiar creak announcing our arrival before I could.
"After you," I said, stepping aside.
The warmth hit us first—a wall of it, scented with woodsmoke and bodies and food. Long tables stretched in neat rows across the packed earth floor, leading to the raised platform where the head table presided over the space like a throne. Most of the breakfast crowd had scattered to their daily tasks—we were late, embarrassingly so—but a stubborn handful lingered over their meals, voices rising and falling in easy conversation.
Until we crossed the threshold.
Then: nothing. Just the crackle of the fire and the sudden weight of a dozen stares.
I pretended not to notice, scanning the room until I found my target.
"Zuhra."
The village manager turned from where she'd been directing a young server, her weathered face transforming the moment she spotted us. The smile that spread across her features was pure mischief, deepening every line and crease into something dangerously knowing. Her sharp eyes darted between Jordan and me, and her smile grew wider still.
Oh no.
"Chieftain," she said, crossing to us with the easy confidence of someone who'd changed my nappies and would never let me forget it. "And who might this be?"
"Jordan." I kept my tone carefully neutral, professional. "The human doctor who saved Ardin's life. She'll be staying with us until he's fully recovered."
"Will she now?" Something gleamed in Zuhra's eyes that made my jaw clench. "How very fortunate for us all. I am Zuhra, keeper of this village and its many secrets."
Jordan stepped forward, offering one of those small, genuine smiles that did absolutely nothing to help my current situation. "Thank you for having me. I hope I'm not imposing."
"Imposing? Nonsense." Zuhra's warmth seemed genuine, but I caught the deliberate emphasis when she added, "Any friend of our chieftain is most welcome here."
Friend. She'd practically caressed the word.
Before I could respond—or throttle her—Zuhra swept toward the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, "Sit, sit! I'll bring you something proper to eat."
I led Jordan to the head table, hyperaware of every whisper, every sidelong glance tracking our progress across the room. The murmurs started before we'd taken three steps.
"Is that really a human?"
"The chieftain brought her himself..."
"Did you see the way he—"