After he came to her with the refugees, she allowed Orin more access to the tunnels in case they needed to flee. She’d told him to stay away from the entrance into the manor unless it was absolutely necessary, and to her amazement, he’d listened to her… so far.
A minuscule flicker in the shadows alerted her to Orin’s presence a second before he emerged like a ghost from a wall. The first dozen or so times he did this to her, she jumped, squeaked like a rat, and nearly pissed herself.
She’d gotten so she could almost always see the slight shift before he emerged. He still occasionally startled her, but it wasn’t as often as in the beginning. He enjoyed scaring her, and when he did, she had to resist trying to kick him in the nuts.
However, it wouldn’t go over well if she did rearrange his privates as badly as she would like to. As much as he exasperated her, she wasn’t looking to fight with him. They were reluctant allies in this, and fighting would only make it worse.
His eyes and hair were as black as the shadows surrounding him and created a strange illusion as they blended into the dark while his skin and clothes remained visible.
“What are you doing here at this time of night, Kitten?” he asked.
Her teeth clenched as he called her the nickname he started using before Cole returned. She’d made the mistake of revealing how much she disliked it in the beginning.
“I’m not a kitten!” she’d retorted, and he laughed.
Now, she tried to act indifferent every time he said it, but the amused gleam in his eyes told her that she’d failed.
“How do you know what time of night it is when you’re down here?” she retorted.
“I know all,” he murmured in that smug way he had.
She restrained herself from rolling her eyes; even if he didn’t know it yet, his father was dead.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“We have to talk.”
His eyes flicked to the shadows behind her. She spun to play the flashlight over the walls behind her. For a second, she feared someone followed her, but the glow didn’t reveal anyone standing there.
“What about?” Orin asked, drawing her attention back to him.
She twirled her fingers as she tried to think of where to start and what to say. They were in this together, but they weren’t friends, and they certainly weren’t close. No one wanted to hear about the death of a loved one from a stranger.
And then she realized it didn’t matter who delivered the news; loved one or stranger, nothing made the blow any easier.
“Brokk’s in the manor,” she said.
She might as well tell him this first; he probably wouldn’t be in the mood to talk after he learned of his dad’s death, and hehadto know to be more careful while coming and going from the tunnels.
“Why?” Orin demanded.
“Cole asked him to stay here.”
Orin’s eyebrows drew sharply together over the bridge of his hawkish nose. “You’ve seen my brother again?”
“Yes.”
Surprise crossed his features before he covered it. “And why would Cole ask Brokk to stay here?”
“He thinks I need protection.”
“Do you?”
She shrugged. “There was an incident, but I’m fine.”
Orin’s eyes coldly surveyed her. When they lingered on the barely visible bruises on her neck, she lifted her chin.
“Who attacked you?” he asked.
