Chapter Twenty-Two

Raisa

What in the name of the seventh circle of hell is this? The scent of a fake pine forest assaults me when I open my car door. On my seat in a fan so perfect I wonder if he used a ruler, are eight pine-scented air fresheners.

Why would… First, I look around to see that he’s detailed my car. I haven’t driven anywhere in days. Then I remember that I’d only been able to afford this car because someone had ralphed in it and left the car baking in the hot sun for days.

I cleaned, shampooed, and cleaned some more after I bought it until I’d gotten as much of the smell out as I could. Although I’ve managed to ignore the odor the last few years, I guess my hunky orc’s sensitive nose clocked it at twenty paces.

After turning on the car and rolling down the windows, I have to hold back tears. Everything he’s done for me over the last week is just so damn sweet.

I’d wanted to get to his apartment sooner, but because of my commission deadline, it’s after dark when I back out of my parking lot and head to the Zone.

Shit. The moment I see the orange glow in the sky, my stomach clenches in worry and I speed through a yellow light. There’s been a spate of fires they suspect are arson in the Zone. The firefighters, in fact, the whole Zone, have been worried about when the next terrorist attack by the fucking Purists is going to happen.

I guess it just did.

I pull up to the gate behind a small queue of emergency vehicles. When I finally get to the front of the line, so antsy I’m about to jump out of my skin, I see the same guard who I gave pushback to the first time I crossed into the Zone.

Although it’s nighttime and chaos is reigning, my hopes that he won’t remember me are dashed when he hits me with the full force of his sneer.

“Want admission to… what was it? Happily fuck an orc? Bad timing, Missy.”

It was Ma’am last time when I was in a Suburban full of orcs. It’s Missy now.

“My boyfriend is a firefighter. Please admit me.” I’m proud I didn’t beg, just speared him with my most serious look.

He shakes his head in disapproval, considers fucking with me for a moment, then looks at the line of emergency vehicles behind me urgently waiting for entry. He presses the button for me to pass, but can’t control his urge to say, “I hope his orc cock is worth ruining the rest of your life.”

I flip him the bird as I motor through the gate in the car Durba cleaned for me. My feelings for him go way beyond his otherworldly cock.

I park just inside the gate and run toward the three-story building that is a raging inferno, my heart racing. There’s a crowd: orcs, nagas, minotaurs, wolven, and others.

Their faces are all taut with worry as they look at another part of their tiny slice of this planet going up in flames. I can’t believe my luck when I see Marissa in the crowd. Her face, like all the others, is bathed in orange light and creased with pain as she watches.

I ease my way through the crowd until I’m standing next to her. It’s only when I grip her hand that she notices me. Neither of us says anything for a while. What is there to say?

“I’m glad you’re here,” she finally says. “Durga’s been out of his mind since you left.”

This just makes me ask myself again what I was thinking when I ran off without even talking things through with him.

“I was on my way to apologize and beg for forgiveness when I saw this.”

“It will help if he knows you’re here. He’ll be able to concentrate better.”

“How will he know?” I consider running toward the burning building, just so he’ll see me, but that’s a distraction none of them need.

“He’ll see or smell you, or one of the others will.”

There’s nothing else to say other than to hold each other’s hands like they’re lifelines.

The crackling flames, fueled by destruction, roar in front of us. The smoke curls around our bodies, suffocating the air and stinging our eyes. But I can’t tear my gaze from the sight. My heart pounds, matching the rhythm of the chaos unfolding in front of me.

Through the billowing smoke, I catch glimpses of Durga. His muscular frame moves with purpose and determination as he navigates the volatile inferno, his green skin glistening with sweat. The familiar sight of his tusked smile is absent, replaced by a furrowed brow and clenched jaw. The fire dances and taunts him, but he fights back relentlessly.

Suddenly, amidst the chaotic thunder of the flames, a chorus of guttural sounds fills the air. The firefighters, all orcs, are speaking to each other hurriedly over their comm units. Orcish, a language foreign to those outside the Zone, echoes all around me, their deep voices carrying an undeniable sense of urgency.

And then, as if the universe conspires to grant me a moment of respite from the inferno surrounding us, our gazes meet. Durga’s tired eyes lock onto mine, and for that fleeting second, time slows. His face, etched with exhaustion and worry, softens at the sight of me. It’s as if a silent understanding passes between us, a reassurance that we are both here, that everything will somehow work out.

I feel a surge of emotion welling up within me. My lips and hands are trembling and tears threaten to slide down my face as it hits me how deeply I care for this male. I knew I felt affection and toyed with the word love, but it’s in this moment I realize it’s not a passing phase. The emotions I have for him are deep and lasting.

That beautiful male risking his life out there is the most important thing in my world. The thought of losing him tears me apart. Perhaps I moaned, because Marissa slips her arm around my waist and speaks into my ear. “We haven’t lost a firefighter yet, Raisa. Brokka’s an amazing Fire Chief. He’ll tell them to back off if it gets too dangerous.”

As if she read my mind, she continues, “Don’t worry. When they’ve extinguished the fire, you’ll have plenty of time to tell him how stupid you were to leave.”

I yank my gaze from the fire to glance at her. She smiles at me and shrugs. “I’ve told him a dozen times over the past week you’d come to your senses. Besides, who else is going to be the father of your four orclings?”

“Word gets around in the Zone,” I grumble.

“You’d better believe it.”

I watch Durga drink a bottle of water in two gulps, then disappear around the corner of the building, his figure swallowed by the blinding light and smoke. Fear grips me, tightening its hold on my heart.

Time loses meaning as the males continue to fight the fire despite their threadbare fire jackets and less-than-state-of-the-art equipment. Marissa and I have been holding hands for so long, our palms seem melded together.

When either of us sees Brokka or Durga, we point it out to the other. It’s reassuring proof-of-life. As time passes, we watch as they get the fire under control.

“It’s only a matter of time now before the fire will be out.” Marissa’s shoulders sag in relief.

She’s been around long enough to have seen her share of fires and knows the signals that the males have won the fight against the flames. The People’s Purity Party hasn’t made much of a secret that they’re responsible for the recent spate of fires. The Others just haven’t been able to prove arson.

Finally, the fire is well under control and Brokka takes pity on Durga, whose hose is pointed at the embers, but whose attention is on me.

“Durga, get out of here and deal with your female. You’ve earned it,” comes over the firefighters” comms loud enough for everyone who’s watching to hear.

Relief washes over me as Durga emerges from the smoky haze, his soot-covered body a stark contrast to the few glimpses of his bright green skin where rivulets of sweat washed him clean. He walks toward me, his footsteps heavy with exhaustion, but his eyes filled with an undeniable sense of longing. I can practically hear his heartbeat echoing in my ears as he stops in front of me.

Without thinking, I reach out to touch him, to assure myself that he’s real and safe. But as my hand hovers in the air, he shakes his head ever so slightly, and I understand. We can’t touch. Not yet. Not here.

Instead, we each take a step back, creating a small space between us. The ache in my chest grows stronger, knowing we have so much to say to each other but are unable to do so in this moment. Together, we turn away from the crowd and walk toward his nearby apartment.

When I look down, my hands are steady, but I feel as though I’m shaking from the adrenaline and relief and fear of what’s going to happen when we walk through the door of his apartment. I shouldn’t worry. He’s with me, right? He couldn’t be too angry. Not angry enough to shut me out, as I’ve done to him.

As we make our way through the streets illuminated by the still-burning embers, the sounds of the city and the crackling remains of the timbers slowly fade into the background. The only noise filling the air is the soft crunching of gravel beneath our feet.

The sight of Durga’s profile makes my heart ache with an intensity I’ve never felt before. It’s a mix of joy and pain, hope and fear, all wrapped up in a single breath.

Finally, we reach his apartment. The door creaks open, welcoming us into a space both familiar and foreign.

Durga pulls out a kitchen chair for me, his gesture gentle and full of unspoken apologies. I sit down while he puts the kettle on to boil.

“I haven’t changed a thing, Raisa. Except there are fewer plants on the windowsills.” He shrugs. “Your favorite tea, Bengal Spice, is still in the cabinet right where you left it. I’m going to take a shower. It takes a while after a fire. Soot is oily.”

He returns freshly washed, wearing only soft, gray sleep pants. He’s even more handsome than I remembered. Avoiding each other’s gaze, we both reach for our cups, though I long to snag his hand and pull it close so I can kiss his palm and every knuckle.

As we take a sip, the taste of the chai dances on my tongue, soothing the rawness within me. After our eyes meet over the rim of our cups and I get the slightest hint that he might be willing to forgive me, I say, “I’ve practiced a speech, but,” I shake my head, “I don’t want to recite something rote.”

I almost reach to touch his hand, then snatch it back. He’s the aggrieved party. It should be up to him to decide when—and if—we should touch.

A lesser male would interrupt, taking over the conversation with his own agenda. Durga is not a lesser male.

“I think I got worried that you were just allowing me here because I was needy. Okay, maybe I thought you also let me stay because I was so willing in bed.”

His shoulders tighten and his eyes slam shut as a muscle leaps in his jaw. The only emotion I can read is when he cups his palm over that beautiful mouth. He’s dying to say something, but giving me space to say my piece.

“You know my body like the back of your hand, but maybe I never let you know how fragile my self-esteem can be. The little harpies in the back of my head got the better of me, and the truth is…”

I realize my gaze had run from him and I was staring at the teabag bobbing in the water. I do him the courtesy of looking straight at him and continue, “I ran from what is the most significant relationship I’ve had with anyone other than my mother. Durga, I care deeply for you and since you never said how you felt about me, I imagined the worst.”

I want to keep babbling, but Durga takes pity on me and asks, “Can I have my turn now?”

“There’s a thing some orcs get. Not all, Raisa. But when we love someone with our whole heart, when it’s more than sex or a need to procreate to make four orclings…” He pauses to give me the oddest expression. It’s half smirk, half apology. “It’s deeper than attraction and as unbelievable as it might sound, it’s deeper than love.”

I try to understand what he’s saying, but the words have nothing to hook onto in my brain.

“It’s a soul connection. Physical, emotional. It’s everything, Raisa. I even see you in a shimmering red light sometimes. I can feel you. The day I came home to find the smell of burned galamash and your plants gone? I knew you’d left before I opened the door.”

My gut twists as I imagine what that must have felt like for him to find me gone and that heinous travesty of a note sitting on the table. And then I think of all the intervening days of pain as he wondered what he would do without me.

“It’s called a soulbond, Raisa. My soul is bound to you for all of eternity. It’s love. But it’s so much more. I’ve had it since before the sun set our first night in the Zone together. I was convinced that if I brought it up so soon in our relationship, it would scare the shit out of you.”

A little laugh bubbles out of my mouth. I hadn’t expected to laugh in such a serious conversation, but realizing that we both fucked up so badly because of assumptions and miscommunications strikes me as both sad and ridiculous.

“So… you like me?” I know I sound like a five-year-old girl, but I just have to hear him say it without all the woo-woo talk of soulbonds.

He gives me the most touching, poignant look. Poignant? Who am I kidding? Panty-melting. He shifts in his chair and opens his arms, beckoning me onto his lap.

“These chairs barely hold one of your asscheeks. It looks like it might break at any moment. You sure you want to tempt fate?” I ask.

With that, he rises so quickly the chair falls backward with a clatter. He lifts me and carries me not to the bedroom, where I was kind of hoping we’d go, but the sofa. It’s good to know at least one of us is an adult.

He sits on the couch with me in his lap, my hip against his groin. He’s hard as a rock, but he doesn’t try to seduce me. Seduce? I think that word only works when the other person isn’t willing.

His chest vibrates with the loudest purr I’ve ever heard as he rocks me and whispers delicious words of love. He ticks off a long list of things he loves about me, from the silky feel of my hair to the color of my eyes.

“The freckles on your face. I think I missed them the most.”

I tilt my head to look up at him. “I don’t know many women who like their freckles, including myself.”

“Think again, pretty Raisa. They’re like constellations. Three here…,” he brushes the tip of his finger over my nose and then onto my cheek, “and five here. Not symmetrical. Imperfectly perfect, just the way I love you.”

He’s on a roll, and God knows I want to hear every word of praise that falls from his lips, but I manage to tell him I love him every time he pauses to take a breath. I lean far enough away to look at him, to see the glitter of affection in his amber eyes. How could I have ever doubted this male had feelings for me?

“I know you humans have all these marriage traditions, but I never paid attention. Do you want a mating, I mean marriage ceremony? Oh! Wait! I’m supposed to ask you. I’m supposed to what? Get down on a knee—”

I interrupt to say, “I think the banana nut muffins and the breakfasts and the car washes were good enough. Oh, and the eight little pine trees. Will your nose ever be able to tolerate riding in my car?”

“Maybe I should rescind my offer until you tell me who did such a heinous thing to the carpet in your car. Tell me that smell did not come from you.”

“It happened before it came into my possession.” I get serious again and ask, “And your traditions, my love?” Oh, that last word came out smooth as silk. It felt so good on my lips that I say it again, “My love.”

He beams at my endearment. I’ll have to use it often.

“The soulbond is forever and always for an orc, my love.” He pauses and I can tell he likes saying those words as much as I did. “I don’t need a ceremony. I’ve been bound to you this whole time.”

I feel a pang of guilt to hear that, but it’s in the past.

“So we’ll have our friends over for a party when we’re ready to come out of our bedroom,” he says with finality.

“Bedroom?” He’s definitely caught my attention.

“We’ve got days and days and days to catch up on. What will it be tonight? Commander or soulbound mate?”

“Sweet, loving soulbound mate, please, followed by a commander. I was naughty and didn’t communicate like I should have. Maybe I need to be edged for hours as punishment.”

“I just fought a raging inferno for hours, my love, but I think I’m up to the task.”