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)
I didn’t tell my mother or the stepsisters I was leaving. Not even a note. I just waited until the hell house was empty, loaded my few still-packed boxes, grabbed my duffel and laptop, and slipped out the back door. No drama, no last-minute guilt trip. I doubt they even notice I’m gone until tonight rolls around and there’s no dinner on the stove.
I grip the steering wheel, grinning. This is what freedom feels like. Sure, my entire life’s crammed into the trunk of a twelve-year-old Honda Civic, but at least it’s my mess now. No more bitchy comments about my weight or my hair or how I “never fit in.” Fuck that. I’m done.
When I drive up to the imposing gate, a tall, green Orc who looks a lot like Aric walks over to my car. “I’m Kol.” I half-expected him to be some terrifying, drill-sergeant type, but he’s just a little shorter than Aric, a little broader, and gentleness shines from his ebony eyes. “Drive to Aric’s house and I’ll help you unload.”
His skin is the color of deep forest moss, but the rest of him is pure modern efficiency. The black polo shirt he’s wearing fits his linebacker frame like body armor, while his pressed jeans probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. With his cropped military short hair, his vibe is all calm, calculated alertness.
Not the kind of guy I’d want to tick off in a dark alley, but there’s a weird warmth in his eyes that takes the edge off the intimidation factor. He gives me a once-over—not creepy, just risk-assessing—and then flashes a dry, almost-smile like he caught himself being too serious.
He turns and grumbles to the guards in Orcish, and the huge gate swings open while the guards signal me through. I pull up in front of Aric’s home and park.
Kolson strolls up and knocks on my window. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.” I smile. At least, I hope it comes off as a smile. “Is Aric going to be here?”
The giant shakes his head. “He had to take Ainsley to the human doctor for her shots.” His green lips turn up into a smirk. “Should be a fun night tonight.” Ouch. He’s not wrong. Before I’m able to come up with a response, he continues. “I’ll unload the boxes, and you can tell me where to put them.” He opens my trunk and reaches for the first box on top. Damn. The jolly green giant moves fast.
While he carries in the heavy stuff, I grab two of the lighter bins, and it only takes three trips to get everything downstairs to my new living quarters.
I take a few minutes to rearrange the bedding to my taste, then step back to survey the results. It’s not fancy, but it’s mine. My home.
I spend a while just enjoying the quiet. A while later, there’s a quiet knock at the door. I open it to find Aric, holding Ainsley, who is not so much awake as she is simply refusing to nap like a normal child. He offers a nod and says, “We’re back from the doctor. Let me know if you need anything.”
“I’m almost done,” I tell him.
“Great.” He gives me a smile that’s identical to Kolson’s. “Spend tonight settling in, and you can begin at first light.”
“First light?” I need a time to set my alarm for.
“Six a.m.,” he explains. Ouch. These green dudes wake up early.
“Sounds great,” I tell him while mentally preparing to go to bed early.
When he leaves, I flop onto the bed, bounce once, and sigh in relief. I check my phone. Three messages from my mother, one from Tanya, the younger of my stepsisters, and one from Dana, the older of the two.
Outside, the moss glows brighter as dusk settles. Inside, it’s quiet except for the soft hum of the house, the heartbeat of a place that’s decided to let me in.
Chapter 3
Oren
I storm the main square, ready for this day to end. Every stride lands with enough force to rattle my bones, but I need it—the sharp ache in my thighs, the heat that still boils in my chest from a busy day on the training field.
At this hour, the settlement empties out quickly. Most are headed home for dinner or to the library for the weekly book club.
My mind is plotting the next week’s security drills when I turn a corner, and a blur of motion hits my peripheral. The collision barely registers. It’s like colliding with a bird, except the impact nearly spins her off her feet. She’s pushing a stroller. The contents of said stroller, an infant swaddled in purple, instantly starts wailing.
Time slows, then punches me in the face.
I grab the human by the arm to keep her from face-planting on the pavers. My hand nearly wraps the whole circumference of her upper arm. She looks up, mouth open, eyes wide and absurdly green. Not the icy green of an Orc’s war paint, but the kind that flashes in summer storms and never lets go.