8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

K rull

I think the word to best describe the last few hours is surreal. Two once-in-a-lifetime acts of nature would be odd enough but add to that whatever is happening between this human female and me, and it’s the trifecta of weird.

It’s hot and steamy in here, but I’d swear the heady aroma clinging to Mara’s skin is more than just sweat and dust. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was arousal, spiking every time she risks a glance at my face, or her soft curves press tighter against me. I feel it too, even in the midst of the chaos—an undeniable pull, primal and insistent.

I’d be lying if I said the attraction wasn’t mutual. Even streaked with grime and wild-eyed with panic, Mara is lovely—delicate features, luminous brown eyes, honeyed skin. And now that she’s over her initial alarmed reaction to my appearance, she seems to be warming up, her earlier frantic grip on my shoulders gentling into something almost trusting .

“World’s quickest shower,” she announces with a hint of humor when she emerges from the bathroom minutes later, clad in shorts and a thin tee that clings distractingly to her damp skin.

“There was still some warm water in the hot water tank. I saved some for you.” Her thoughtfulness touches me, as does her wide smile.

Wow! That was her first genuine smile since we met. It’s enough to light up her little apartment without electricity.

I hadn’t planned on showering, but it sure would feel good to get the filthy water off my skin, even if I have to put these coveralls back on when I’m done.

True to her word, there’s still a little hot water left. Five minutes later, I’ve showered and emerge from the bathroom feeling refreshed. Mara looks up from where she’s perched cross-legged on the bed. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches sit on paper plates in front of her, one on her plate, three on mine. She also set two bottles of water on my side of the bed.

“I hope you like PB and J. It’s about all I have that doesn’t need refrigeration,” she says with an apologetic smile. “I don’t know what I’m hoarding the cold air for, but I’m afraid to open the fridge.”

My stomach rumbles at the sight of food. I haven’t eaten since early this morning. “That looks perfect. Thanks.”

I join her on the bed, the mattress dipping under my weight, and take an enormous bite. Mara watches me, an odd little smile playing on her pretty lips. “You must have been hungry. This is the first disaster I’ve been through, but I guess catastrophes make you work up an appetite. ”

“I’m a firefighter and can attest to that. Stress, activity, and hyperfocusing for hours can make you ravenous.”

“Firefighter?” She tips her head and tosses me another smile, though this one doesn’t have quite the megawatts as her previous one. “I could swear you were delivering heavy packages.”

“Yeah.” I take another bite. “With the money from my second job, I’m saving for more college classes.”

“What are you studying?”

“I’m only halfway through my undergrad studies in finance, but I’m hoping to get my MBA.”

Mara smiles, her brown eyes twinkling in the candlelight. “An MBA? Impressive. So you want to go into business?”

“Eventually.” I nod, taking a sip of water. Realizing how thirsty I am, I chug the whole thing. “I thought I’d either open my own company helping Others with financing and accounting or work from home for a human company. With video conferencing and a camera that’s always on the fritz, my employers might not know they’re dealing with an orc.”

“Too bad you feel you have to hide who you are,” Mara says. She brushes a damp lock of hair behind her ear, her cheeks turning ruddy. “Let me apologize again for my reaction when I first saw you. I’m embarrassed and guilty—”

“I get it. You certainly weren’t expecting me.”

“Yeah, but just let me apol—”

“You’ve apologized. Let’s put it behind us.”

“Right. It’s in the rearview mirror.” She flails her hand over her shoulder as though she’s throwing something behind her. “We’ll move forward from here.”

We eat in silence for a few minutes. My gaze keeps arrowing to the graceful line of Mara’s throat as she swallows. Though she just took a bath, her skin is covered in a fine sheen of sweat. Between the heat and the humidity, it’s sweltering in here. I’m ordering myself to tear my gaze from her just as she glances up and catches me staring.

“Um, so how did you get interested in firefighting?” Mara asks brightly.

I seize the distraction, explaining how there are so few jobs in the Zone. The wolven gravitated to law enforcement and orcs were attracted to firefighting.

“I enjoy fighting fires, but I’d love to use more brain and less brawn.”

Something about my statement makes her blush, and her gaze runs from mine. Soon, though, we’re chatting comfortably again as we share our interests. When we discover we both enjoy some of the same music and movies, her uneasiness fades. By the time we polish off our impromptu dinner, Mara is smiling easily, gesturing animatedly as she describes her vision for the gallery post-restoration.

It’s only been a few hours since water demolished her gallery, yet her ideas are so well thought out, it’s as though she’s been planning them for months.

Our empty plates sit discarded on the nightstands. Mara perches cross-legged on the bed while I sprawl alongside her, propped on one elbow .

The lingering tension I sensed earlier returns full force as we hold each other’s glance. It’s like a game of chicken until one of us averts our gaze. I should tell her that with my orc DNA, which borders on predatorial, she’ll never win a game of chicken with me.

Her eyes drop briefly to my mouth and my cock kicks in response. Before I can talk myself out of it, I reach to tuck a silken strand of hair behind her ear, fingertips grazing her cheek. Mara’s breath hitches, lips parting softly as her eyes fly wide.

Should I be talking myself out of this, or leaning closer to breach her mouth?

Just as I’m hesitating, a crack rends the air. I live in the Integration Zone, in the heart of one of the worst parts of L.A., I know a gunshot when I hear one.

“Shit!”

Although I don’t want to overreact to one gunshot, when a flurry of them cut through the steady drone of sirens, I leap into action. Scooping Mara off the bed, I carry her to the same corner we sheltered in earlier.

“Stay put.”

A muscle leaps in my jaw as I ease to the window and peer out with my body hidden behind the wall.

“I should have predicted this. What was I thinking?” I murmur more for my ears than for hers. If I’d given it a moment’s thought, I would have realized there’d be riots when the lights went out. “I should have brought every board from downstairs and nailed them over these windows. ”

“Don’t beat yourself up. A piece of wood can’t stop a bullet.”

Though Mara is full of false bravado, she can’t fool me. She might be more terrified than she’s been all day… and that’s saying something.

“Was that a one-off? Or are there riots out there?” Her question, rather than coming from the other side of the room, is whispered from only inches away.

“Mara! What are you doing here?” My voice is loud, filled more with fear for her than anger. She’s standing at my side, not a foot from the unprotected window. “Hiding in the corner won’t ensure your safety, but… it’s all I can do to protect you.”

My harsh words and scowl don’t deter her, though. She peeks out the window.

“Holy crap. Are those sparks down the block gunfire ?”

“Yes. We’re going back to our pathetic little safety zone. We’ll wait this out.”

She doesn’t move a muscle until I grip her hand and pull her with me to the other side of the room. In one swift move, I yank the mattress off the bed and nudge it into the corner.

“Pitiful, but with the angle of the trajectory, somehow I think we’re safer here, farther from the windows.”

Realizing the flickering candlelight announces that someone is up here, I stalk to the counter and put out the candles, plunging us into darkness. It’s not completely dark in here, some moonlight streams in when it’s not hidden behind the clouds .

“What were those biblical plagues, Krull? I think we’ve been through three or four of them today, although I doubt rioting gunfire was in the Bible.”

“You’re doing a great job trying to make jokes,” I tell her, “trying to sound brave. But you don’t have to put up a false front on my account. Anyone would be terrified.”

“You too?” Her voice, almost like a young girl, finally shows her fear.

“It’s been a bad day, Mara. Just because I’m big and strong doesn’t mean these catastrophes aren’t taking their toll.”

The sound of breaking glass splinters the quiet of the room. I don’t need to order her to stay down. She’s hunched in the fetal position on the mattress, shivering in fear.

“Holy shit,” I whisper. Someone shot through the very window we’d just been looking out of. I dive toward Mara, pull her to sitting, and slide my palms along her shoulders and arms, then skim them along the outside of her legs.

“Are you okay?”

“I-I don’t think I’m shot. I’m terrified, though.”

Her eyes are wild in her face, her whole body is trembling. I’ve never felt so helpless in my life.