Page 96 of That’s My Orc, Tusk Off

I turned to take a mug and found her collar had folded under. I straightened it, my fingers lingering on her neck.

She stilled, her pulse jumping under my fingertips.

I should pull away. This was for show. But I couldn’t make myself move.

She tugged at my hair tie, which had loosened during cooking. When I stooped down, her fingers slid through my hair, gathering it, securing the tie again with gentle pulls.

I leaned into her touch.

The scribe cleared his throat from where he sat at the table but neither of us looked his way. This wasn’t for him anymore. Maybe it never had been.

He made another note in the ledger he’d brought into the kitchen and continued observing.

A drop of water clung to her jaw. I wiped it away.

She dried her hands on the towel tucked into my waistband instead of reaching for the one on the hook.

“We should finish,” she whispered.

“Yes.”

The rest of the evening crawled. The scribe sat in the living room, recording every glance, touch, and moment we existed in the same space.

I retrieved a book from the shelf. Willa brought her notebook to the couch. We sat side by side, not touching but aware. Always aware.

When I reached to turn a page, my arm brushed hers.

When she shifted to write something, her knee pressed against my thigh.

The scribe watched from his chair, his pen moving occasionally. Recording what, I didn’t know. The number of times our legs touched? How long Willa spent on each page of her notebook? Whether I read my book or just turned pages? All of the above, probably.

At nine, the scribe stood.

“I’ll gather my things from my vehicle,” he said, “and prepare myself for bed, though I note you do not have a second bedroom.” His gaze swept the room. “I’ll sleep here, since you two will use the bedroom. I must see how you begin your day. Together. From first waking.”

“Of course,” Willa said, looking up at me. “We should go to bed as well.”

Bed. Together.

Once he’d finished in the bathroom, we got up and walked down the hall.

We took turns in the bathroom. No one would expect us to share that. While she was using it, I changed quickly, leaving my loincloth on, though I usually wore nothing.

She returned to the room wearing a short, loose gown, not meeting my eyes. Her attention remained on the bed.

I’d never seen her this vulnerable.

“We sleep,” she said softly. “That’s all. Just sleeping.”

“In the bed at the same time.”

“Right.”

Neither of us moved.

This was fine. People shared beds all the time. Bonded mates did this every night.

But we weren’t bonded. Not really.