Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

PIPER

" U m," I finally manage, both amused and gratified by the way Ga'Rek's literally lifted me out of an awkward situation.

We're garnering some strange looks, and I can't totally blame everyone for their interest.

Ga'Rek's expression is thunderous, and it's thunderous… on my behalf.

Besides, he's still holding me up.

One arm's locked tight around my thighs, my upper body squished into his.

"You know, I did always wonder what it would be like to see above a crowd," I tell him nonchalantly. "Do you know where I wanted to take you tonight?"

At that, he stops completely.

His brow furrows in consternation, and he looks from the crowd parting before him up to me.

I raise my eyebrows expectantly.

"No," he finally admits, his voice grinding out the word.

Finally, his arm loosens, and he sets me down. A hand goes to his hair, and he rakes his fingers through it.

My lips purse. "It's not far, but you're welcome to tote me around if you'd like. I could get used to seeing the tops of everyone's heads for a change."

As soon as the words leave my lips, I wonder if I'll regret them.

If the laid-back Ga'Rek I've come to know and like was just an illusion, waiting for the moment to pull the rug out from under me.

That possibility flickers before my eyes, and then he tips back his head and laughs, a booming sound that has people scattering faster than before from around us.

"I will carry you if you so desire, kal'aki ne," he says, amusement dancing in his eyes.

Much better than the ire that was there just moments ago.

We'll need to talk about that, I think.

"I am happy to walk, but if you need me to be your security doll to carry around, that's fine too."

He laughs again, this time quieter, more sly, and holds out his big hand.

I place mine in his, and tug him gently towards the alley of my favorite Night Market-only restaurant.

"There's nothing back there," Ga'Rek says, a bit uneasily.

I throw him a grin over one shoulder and walk faster.

The illusion blocking the alley shimmers, the dingy cobblestones turned gleaming as we pass through the spell. Ten tables line the alley, a family laughing at one as they eat, a couple cuddled up and talking in sweet whispers at a two-seater.

A server in a pretty dress smiles at me, nodding at an empty two-seater in the corner.

Ga'Rek's tall enough that he has to crouch to avoid hitting his head on the many glowing lanterns strung between the stone buildings. They illuminate the space with a warm, romantic glow, and the scent of heavily spiced meat weighs on the air, making my mouth water.

"I would never have known this was here," he says, clearly impressed.

"Aren't you glad you have me, then?" I ask, attempting levity after the weirdness with Caelan.

He doesn't laugh again, but fixes his intense gaze on my face. "Yes. I have never been so glad to have someone in my entire life."

My breath catches at that, and a warm, floaty happiness settles in my chest.

I squeeze his hand, at least, the portion of it I can hold, and lead him to the table the server indicated.

A thick, cream-colored tablecloth with a subtle rose pattern covers the table, and I smooth my palms over it in appreciation as I sit.

"This is here… only during the Night Market?"

Gleeful, I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. "It's only here once a month during the Night Market."

His thick, dark eyebrows rise in surprise. "And the illusion?"

"Only on restaurant nights," I confirm, loving the way he leans in like we're telling secrets. The table creaks under his weight.

"Good evening, Piper, and you're Ga'Rek, right?" The family matriarch's standing next to our table, and I smile at her, placing one hand over Ga'Rek's in a sign of companionship.

I want him to like this place as much as I do.

"That's right," Ga'Rek says, slightly stiff. One hand goes to his waist, clenching around something that's not there before it falls in his lap.

"I've heard so much about you from Piper and Wren both. Caelan swings by to say hello too, sometimes. I'm Malia, by the way. Do you want to hear what we've made tonight, or have it be a surprise?" She smiles warmly at us both, her brown skin luminescent in the light of the lanterns.

Ga'Rek visibly relaxes, leaning back in his chair.

"I'd like to hear about it," I tell her. I love hearing about how other chefs work, especially Malia, who has an entirely different skillset than I do.

"Oh good," she claps her hands in excitement, and I share a grin with Ga'Rek across the table. "Today we have a selection of slow-roasted meats. Spice-rubbed pork, brined turkey, and there's even a side of beef. There's a hearty potato and carrot soup, loaded with salt-pork, cheese, and green onions on top, and then we have a selection of charred seasonal vegetables and some of the last summer peppers from the garden. We also have a board of early autumn fruits and cheeses we will start you off with, to whet your appetite," she pauses for breath, then looks straight at me.

"What?" I ask instantly.

"Now I'm nervous," Malia tells me with a laugh. "Because the best baker in the country is sitting here, and I'm about to tell her about my chocolate cream pie."

"Malia, you can do no wrong in the kitchen, and I've never found chocolate cream pie I didn't love." I beam at her, delighted by the praise and turning slightly pink from it, too.

She blows out a breath, shoving her hands into her apron pockets. "You'll have to tell me if it's not quite right." I open my mouth to argue with her, but she holds up a hand, cutting me off. "No, I mean it. I want your honest opinion."

I incline my head, amused, gratified, and slightly embarrassed at her insistence.

"Do you want wine?" she asks.

"Tea for me, please. Early day tomorrow," I tell her.

"Of course. And you?" she asks Ga'Rek, beaming at him with genuine kindness.

"I'll have whatever you think will be best with the feast you just described." His tusks glint in the lantern light.

"Oh, yes, I like a male that lets the chef decide," she tells him, then winks at me.

I laugh, and she scurries off to help another customer, her black curls bouncing as she goes.

"She's very kind," Ga'Rek says amiably.

Malia's daughter, no older than seven or eight, swings by, gingerly placing an earthenware pitcher of water on the table, along with several thick pillar candles.

She stares at Ga'Rek for a long moment, a serious crinkle in her forehead. "I've never seen an orc in real life," she tells him soberly.

He grins at her, and she tilts her head, considering him.

"Well, what do you think? Am I as scary as all the stories?"

"No-ope." She pops the last syllable. "You're too pretty to be scary."

With that, she skips off.

I bite my cheeks to keep from laughing, though I can hardly disagree with the child. A simple spell lights the candles, and I watch the flames flicker for a brief moment before looking back at Ga'Rek.

He looks slightly shell-shocked, and a moment later, another older child runs out to deliver the tray of fruit.

I bite my cheeks to keep from talking until she's out of earshot.

"I take it no one has ever told you you're too pretty to be scary?" I ask, doing my very best not to burst into a fresh round of laughter.

His huge green hand rubs his jawline, only succeeding in drawing attention to all that handsomeness.

"Most of the Unseelie treated me little better than their demon dog pets. Children didn't look twice at me in the Underhill. Can't say anyone there ever called me that."

"Oh." I wince. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

He leans back in his chair, good humor still on his face. "Do you think I'm handsome?"

"Yes," I tell him instantly, then I cough, nearly fumbling the pitcher as I fill a glass just to give my hands something to do.

"You do?" he asks, and when I glance back up at him, I nearly upend my glass and spill it everywhere.

There's a predatory light in his eye, the kind that makes you want to freeze or run. The kind that promises if I tried to run, he'd catch me.

It doesn't freeze me at all. There's no ice in my veins.

The look in his eyes turns me molten all over, instead.

"I do," I finally manage to force out, and then, boldly, I slowly smile at him.

"Piper," he says, and there's a hint of pleading in the way he says my name. "I thought you said we were only friends. That's what you told Wren."

Oh. My nose wrinkles, and he breathes out heavily, leaning his arms on the top of the table, which groans under his bulk.

"We… are friends," I say hesitantly.

"But?" he asks, leaning further forward. There's a hint of desperation and the predator lurking in his eyes still, but I don't lean away.

I meet him where he is. "But," I summon all my bravery and forge ahead. "I've heard that friends make the best lovers."

A groan rumbles out of him, and I stare deep into his eyes, making up my mind once and for all. I want Ga'Rek. I want him as a friend, and I want him in my bed, and I want to know what it feels like to be touched by someone that looks at me like I'm precious.

"Piper, I'm not… I'm afraid I might hurt you." His eyes shutter for a moment, vulnerability making him look younger, softer, even.

"Well, we can figure that out." It comes out much more eager than I meant it too, but it makes him laugh.

"Soup and vegetables," Malia sings out, holding a steaming platter that her daughter helps her unload onto our table.

We both sit back and I bite my lip, excited and nervous and suddenly not hungry at all.

That is, until I take a deep breath and inhale the incredible aroma of the soup.

Ga'Rek has a huge portion in front of him, absolutely massive next to mine, and he stares between our bowls and the platter of vegetables as Malia watches.

"I do not wish to put you out with this large of a serving," he says quietly.

"That's part of the restaurant. No one here will go hungry. We size our portions based on how hungry the eater is. You are an orc, and you will eat like one under our roof." She glances up at the stars starting to wink in the gloaming night. "At least, under our lanterns."

He blinks, absorbing this. "Thank you," he finally says.

"Enjoy," she tells him, then winks at me again, ushering her daughter over to the next table.

"Did you think I would take you somewhere you would leave with a huge appetite still? You know minotaurs eat quite a bit too, right?" I laugh, tilting my head at the minotaur eating sedately with his family, their table piled high.

"I assumed if I were still hungry I could make a sandwich or four in The Pixie's Perch," he says slowly.

He dips the carved wooden spoon into the thick broth, the cheese melting across the top, with the kind of care I've become used to seeing from him in the kitchen every morning.

Usually, utensils look so small in his hands, but here? They're the right size.

"I could buy some tools that are larger for the café," I muse. "Are you having trouble using them?"

He raises an eyebrow before popping the spoon, perfectly loaded with cheese and green onions and fried pork fat, into his mouth.

Ga'Rek's eyes flutter shut, and I beam, because I know that look.

That's the look of someone who has found complete bliss in their food, and Malia's one-night-a-month restaurant is one of the few places I eat with pure enjoyment, her cooking so good that my analytical chef's brain turns off the moment it hits my tongue.

"No," he finally answers, his green throat bobbing as he swallows. "I will not allow you to spend money on things that you cannot use."

"But you work with me. I don't want you to be uncomfortable using my things?—"

"No," he says, shaking his head. "If I weren't able to use your things, I would let you know."

"Ga'Rek—" I start, but he shoots me a look so sincere that I simply close my mouth.

I'll just have to watch him more closely. If there's something he is struggling with, I'll fix it. Easy as that.

Cheese melts around my spoon as I dip into the thick potato and carrot broth, the green onions wilting from the steam where they float on top. It's so good—hearty and perfectly seasoned and everything autumn soup should be.

I love Malia's cooking.

"How does it work?" he asks abruptly.

"The soup?" I blink up at him, confused.

"The magic. Your magic," he clarifies. "I grew up with the fae. You utter charms and incantations as part of your recipes, but then you lit the candles here with no spell. The witch, Violet, who came by today, she didn't have to do anything to use hers."

"Ah." I take another bite of soup, then another, considering how to answer. "Magic is… everywhere. It's in everything."

He raises his eyebrows. "I don't understand."

My mouth twists to the side. "I'm trying—it's hard to explain something that's like breathing." I squint at a creamy lantern overhead. "You know you need to breathe, you understand the basic mechanics of it, right? But if you tried to explain exactly what your body does with the air…" I shrug.

He nods, looking intrigued.

Ga'Rek is an excellent listener. I really like that about him.

"Magic is like that," I continue slowly, trying to think back to the basics I picked up along with walking as a very, very small child. "It's in us, in witches. Sometimes, it's best channeled with a spell, like when I'm baking. Sometimes, with small tasks like lighting the candles, it's about will and intention. Every witch is inclined towards a specific discipline, usually something that crops up from family to family. Like Wren, she's called towards elements of the earth, gems and gold and silver. My magic is focused on feelings, which I channel into the food I make."

"The fae… they never used spells. Not that I saw."

"That's because they are more magic than most. Mostly magic, even."

He takes another bite of soup, swallowing slowly as he thinks it over.

Very serious, very adorable.

His mouth twists to the side as he studies my face, considering what I've tried to tell him.

I would like to kiss it.

Blushing, I quickly avert my gaze and take another bite of soup, then sample the platter of still steaming roast vegetables Malia brought out. The platter is a cracked deep blue glaze, and I'm reminded yet again of the starry blue dress I passed up at the tailor's cart.

What must it have been like to grow up without seeing the night sky change with the seasons?

"How did you end up with the Unseelie fae?" I blurt. It's something I've wondered for a long time about Ga'Rek. Orcs are fierce, yes, but they keep to themselves for the most part, in tight-knit communities mostly deep in the mountains, away from places like Wild Oak Woods and the larger cities along the coastline.

"Caelan took me from my parents when I was seven or eight."

"He did what ?" I screech, my spoon falling with a clatter into my empty soup bowl.

Flustered, my mouth opens and closes, but Ga'Rek just barks out a loud laugh.

"He saved me, my sweetling," Ga'Rek says, his hand closing over mine, warm and comforting. "My parents were orcs, yes, and I'd like to think they loved me, but they…" He shakes his head, sorrow creeping into his beautiful eyes. "They were not good parents. They did not like being parents. They left me on my own for weeks at a time while they went hunting together. They drank ether—that's a grain alcohol that will burn the lining off your insides—until I was terrified they would never wake up."

"Oh goddess, Ga'Rek, I'm so sorry."

"Sweetling, it is long, long in the past. And it is not your hurt to apologize for."

My eyes well with tears all the same at the thought of a baby version of the lovely male across from me, fending for himself for weeks at a time.

"There was a bird I cared for—it was hurt, and I nursed it back to health. I was certain my parents would kill and eat it if they found it, so I stowed it deep in the forest away from where my parents liked to hunt, and I cared for it for many weeks while they were gone."

I twine my fingers through his, horrified for poor small Ga'Rek. Of course he took care of a defenseless animal.

"The bird was one of the many fae spies back then," he tells me, a humorless smile on his face as his thumb rubs lightly over the back of my hand. "One day, I went to take my bird a handful of berries and bugs I'd found, and it was gone. In its place was Caelan, who told me he was going to take care of me the way I deserved, the way I did for the bird."

My chest positively aches.

"I went back, once. I don't know how much time had passed, because time here and time in the Underhill passes differently. My parents never even bothered to look for me." His eyes grow distant, looking slightly above and beyond my head. "I know, because I sent that bird I'd taken care of to look."

My hand goes to my heart. "Ga'Rek," I murmur.

"Caelan tells everyone he stole me," the orc says in a low voice. "And maybe he did. But what he really did, what he would hardly ever admit, is that he saved me, the same way I saved that bird."

I am at a total loss for words, so I just squeeze his big hand.

"Don't be sad, sweetling." His other hand reaches across the table, wiping a tear off my cheekbone I didn't know had fallen. "It was so long ago."

"Hurts like that don't just go away," I tell him. "I… thank you for telling me that. Thank you for trusting me with that piece of you."

"I would trust you with all my pieces, and all the parts that are still whole, Piper."

In that moment, I decide I'm not going to wait for him to kiss me.

I reach out, tentative, one hand on his cheek. His skin is much rougher than mine, beginning bristles of a coarse beard rasping against my palm.

His eyes pin me, and for a moment, I can hardly breathe, terrified to move—before I remember that this is Ga'Rek. This is my orc.

Then I'm moving, standing and leaning over the table, until our faces are barely a breath apart.

His gaze drops to my lips, and desire shoots up through my back, lightning hot and fast.

I move as he does, and our mouths meet. A huge hand brackets the back of my neck, possessive and needy. His tusks are strange, unusual, but not in a bad way—nothing about him could be bad.

I lick his lower lip, wanting more, wanting it now when?—

"Ahem," Malia coughs.

We break apart, and I plonk back in my seat like a bag of flour.

She gives me a highly amused look, sweeping away the bowls onto a platter held by an older child, and then replacing them with dishes full of piping hot spiced meats.

I can't even bring myself to look at Ga'Rek.

Not because I'm embarrassed, but because I'm afraid if he looks at my lips like that again, I'll knock everything off the table and jump on him right here in public.

That would really get everyone talking.

As Malia sets down an array of ceramic pots filled with different sauces, I keep trying not to look at him.

"Enjoy, you two," Malia says, then flounces off with a knowing glance.

"This is delicious," Ga'Rek growls.

I snort, because he hasn't wasted any time, digging into the meat eagerly. It's somewhat awe-inspiring, actually, the way he's already downed enough meat for three meals of my own.

"Have I not been feeding you enough at work?" I ask, suddenly concerned with how much he's able to put away.

"Of course you have, Piper. But I'm not about to let any of this go to waste."

I shrug, my eyes narrowing, because I'm not sure if he's telling the truth or not.

However, he has a point about the meat.

A wicked smile turns the corners of my mouth up.

I don't want to let it go to waste, either.