Page 24 of Ashes, Apples, & Amorous Orcs

The certainty in his voice breaks through my careful composure. I sigh, abandoning the pretense of calm as I settle the transplanted lavender into its fresh hole. The purple-green stems look fragile against the dark soil, like they might not survive the transition.

"There was some sort of lunch party at the tailor's shop today." I pat dirt around the base of the plant, perhaps more roughly than necessary. "I wasn't invited."

The silence lingers between us, heavy with implications I don't want to examine. When he finally speaks, his voice carries an edge I haven't heard before.

"I was invited. Didn't go."

Relief floods through me so suddenly it leaves me dizzy. At least he wasn't hidden away in Alma's pristine shop, nodding along while the village elite discussed his future like he was a prize to be claimed. At least he wasn't there to hear Vaelis's confident assumptions about their inevitable pairing.

But the relief sours quickly, replaced by a familiar bitterness that tastes like every small-town rejection I've ever swallowed.

"At least you got an invitation." The words come out sharper than I intended as I roughly pat the dirt around the lavender stems. "Everyone seems intent on keeping me firmly on the outside of things."

My hands move automatically, preparing the next hole with mechanical precision. The earth gives way easily under my trowel, but my chest feels tight with disappointment I thought I'd outgrown.

"I thought that maybe..." I trail off, then force myself to continue. "Maybe the town would welcome me back with open arms. But they obviously don't care."

The sound of movement beside me makes me glance up. Draven drops to his knees in the dirt, his large hands reaching for another seedling without being asked. The casual way he joins me in the work sends warmth through my chest—no hesitation, no awkwardness about getting soil under his nails.

His fingers work the earth with surprising gentleness for someone whose hands are built for violence. The blood on his vest speaks to his afternoon's work, but here, kneeling beside me in my makeshift garden, he handles the delicate lavender roots like they might break.

"I care."

The words fall between us, simple and devastating. My hands still around the plant I was positioning, dirt crumbling between my fingers as I process what he just said.

"You... what?"

He doesn't look at me, focusing instead on creating the perfect depression in the soil for the next transplant. But his jaw tightens, and I catch the way his shoulders tense like he's preparing for battle.

"Ever since you arrived, I've been..." He pauses, searching for words with the same careful precision he uses to track prey through the forest. "Making up reasons. To be where you are. To spend time with you."

My heart hammers against my ribs so hard I'm certain he can hear it. The careful walls I've built around my feelings for him start to crumble like poorly mixed mortar.

"I don't understand."

His hands pause in their work, and he meets my gaze. Those golden-brown eyes hold something raw and uncertain—an expression I've never seen on his controlled features.

"Being around you is like..." He struggles with the explanation, frustration flickering across his face. "Like being chosen by sunlight. I can't explain it properly, but I'm drawn to you. And I care."

The confession hangs in the air, vulnerable and honest in a way that makes my chest ache. His admission strips away every doubt I've been carrying about whether this pull between us exists only in my imagination.

As he speaks, his hands move to cover mine where they rest against the soil around our latest transplant. The contrast between his scarred, calloused palms and my smaller fingers should feel stark, but instead it feels perfect—like two pieces finding their proper fit.

The warmth of his touch travels up my arms and settles somewhere deep in my chest. When I look up and find him watching me with that same vulnerable intensity, something inside me snaps.

I lean forward and kiss him.

The contact sends electricity through every nerve ending. His lips are warm and firm against mine, and for a heartbeat he freezes—surprise radiating through his entire frame. Then his hands tighten over mine, and he kisses me back with a hunger that steals my breath.

The taste of him floods my senses—salt and earth and something wild that speaks to the untamed parts of myself I keep carefully hidden. His tusks graze my lower lip as he tilts his head, deepening the kiss until I'm dizzy with want.

I pull back just enough to breathe, our foreheads touching as we share the same air. His eyes have gone dark, pupils dilated with desire that mirrors the heat pooling low in my belly.

"Isolde." My name on his lips sounds like a prayer and a promise wrapped together.

Then his mouth finds mine again, more demanding this time, and I lose myself completely.

His hands leave mine, sliding up my arms with a possessiveness that nearly makes my breath catch. The rough calluses on his palms scrape against my skin as he pushes my shoulders back, guiding me down into the soft earth and crushed lavender.