Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 29324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 147(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 147(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Oren’s answering grunt is pure relief. “Seven-thirty. I’ll cook.” His eyes go hot and dark, pinning me to the spot, and my insides do a triple somersault. I swear my ovaries are singing.
“Deal.” My voice is barely a whisper, but he hears it. There’s no mistaking his smile this time. It’s hungry, and it’s all for me.
The next morning, I step out on the front porch to find a pink cardboard box, tied up with a cord, sitting on the table. There’s a note on it that reads, “a little something sweet for my sweet girl.” My heart does a somersault in my chest as I open the box to find little pink donuts inside. Not the glazed hockey pucks from gas stations back home, but little Orc pastries stuffed with tart berry jam, dusted with something that looks radioactive and tastes like sugar on steroids. I eat three before my stomach starts aching.
The day after that, there’s another little pink box on the front porch. This time it’s a book. An actual first edition of the fantasy novel I asked Brielle to order for me. Oren’s note today reads, “I heard this was your favorite.” And I know my heart officially belongs to the Orc prince. That’s not even the craziest part.
A few hours later, I’m rolling Ainsley down the quiet path that runs behind the library, all mellow sunlight and mossy stone. The baby is finally asleep, cheek smushed against the side of the stroller, which means I can actually hear myself think. What I hear, though, is footsteps. Heavy ones. Like, massive boots made for curb-stomping heavy.
My spine lights up with panic. Shit. I pretend to check my phone while scanning reflections in the glassy lanterns. There’s a shadow trailing us, maybe half a block back. I find an Orc, probably six-foot-something and built like a linebacker, but I can’t see much else of him. My pulse jumps. I pick up the pace, heart doing a square dance in my chest.
The footsteps close in. I’m already plotting how to weaponize the stroller when the Orc calls out, “No need to run, Miss Blume.” He slows but my pulse doesn’t. My heart’s hammering so hard I can hear it in my ears. I grip the stroller handle, ready to turn and swing this thing like a battering ram if the Orc even thinks about creeping up on me from behind.
I glance over my shoulder and get an eyeful of the guy. Orc, definitely, but not one I recognize. He’s huge, biceps stretching the sleeves of his shirt, veins popping like he’s just come from deadlifting a minivan. His tusks are smaller than Oren’s but still sharp enough to do damage. The dude’s got a permanent scowl and a scar that runs right down his jaw like a knife slash. He keeps his hands up, palms out. “Seriously, not here to hurt you. Prince Oren sent me to protect you and the baby.”
Damn. Now I have a protection detail. I feel like I’ve stepped into an alternate universe.
Chapter 5
Oren
Friday finally rolls around, and I wake two hours before dawn with every muscle locked and my jaw already clenching around the first failure of the day. I didn’t sleep. Fuck, I can’t remember the last time I slept.
My body’s still wired, every muscle tense, my cock already hard as hell from the dreams that kept me up all night. Fuck, the images won’t let go. Ella’s naked against moss-lit stone, her thighs spread wide to show me just how drenched she is for me. I dream of pinning that sweet human under me, her wrists caught in one hand while I drive into her until she’s screaming my name. I’d mark her everywhere. Bite her neck and savor the exact moment she surrenders, her body clutching me so tightly I nearly lose my mind.
By dawn, I’m wound tight, all adrenaline and zero outlet. I stare at the ceiling in the dark, my skin buzzing, jaw clenched so hard I can practically hear my teeth cracking. I try to tell myself it’s just another day, but my body knows better.
Tonight’s my dinner date. My first one, ever. And the most important night of my life.
A few days ago, I finally sat down and read the file on Ella. I didn’t read very far before my blood went cold. The in-depth file spelt out in great detail all the shit she went through in her short life. I had to set the tablet down twice because the words made my hands shake with fury. Fuck, how did she survive that hell with her spirit still intact? It doesn’t fucking matter now that Ella has me. I’ll protect my mate with everything I am. This is my job now. My purpose.
The ancient Orc blood in my veins is screaming for my normal routine, for the discipline of morning training, but I skip it. I haven’t missed a dawn session in ten years, not even the time I shattered my fibula in three places. But today, the idea of sparring or running drills feels… wrong. Maybe it’s because I need every reserve of willpower for tonight. Maybe I just need to be here, alone, in my own space, with nothing to distract me from the weird chemical fire in my chest.