Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

LILY

T he afternoon proves busier than normal, with several bantarans stopping by to order boots, pants, and leather restraints. I don't ask what those are for. I've learned to keep my mouth shut and simply record the necessary dimensions for custom orders.

"I'm taking a break. If anyone comes by looking to place an order, I'll be back in an hour or so."

"Take this with you," Paloma says as she drops Grak's knife on my table with sheer disdain. "I don't want it near me."

"You accepted it in exchange for the boots."

"I don't want anything from that disgusting beast."

"Owen will come by and collect whatever we've taken in trade."

"But I'll have to stare at it until then."

"He'll notice the boots are missing and expect to see some form of payment."

"I'm not worried about Owen."

I wish I could say the same .

I take the knife and tuck it into the band of my skirt.

"Stay to the market," Paloma cautions. Words we all say to one another, words I always ignore.

While Pen'Kesh is a huge market, not a city, the noise and smells often overwhelm me, especially that of the dirty, unwashed bodies, and the unmistakable stench of decaying food the moxxels dump anywhere they please, usually far from their own sector. I need time to unwind and relax in the clean air and calm of the beautiful landscape around Pen'Kesh.

And I'm hoping I'll find my orc by the river. It's been hours since he left our sector, so I don't expect he's waited all this time for me.

When I reach the river, faded footprints from days ago greet me. No fresh prints. He never returned here.

My heart sinks, yet again. I guess I read him wrong. He was little more than a flirt. A charmer trying to get into my pants.

It's just as well, given our laws against talking with orcs outside the confines of our jobs here. Orcs simply don't buy anything, at least not from us. Today's sale to Grak was the first one I've ever seen. Given his behavior, I don't believe he needed the boots. We have nothing the orcs need. That male exists to intimidate us, nothing more.

My orc is different. Sweet and smart. But not interested in me.

I sigh. I guess he's not my orc after all.

As I head back to Pen'Kesh, an eerie silence fills the woods. I turn a full 360, only to realize I don't know this area. I strayed from the path. Damn it!

My hand settles on the knife Paloma insisted I take so she wouldn't have to deal with it. I didn't argue because I remembered my orc— damn it, not my orc! —suggested I carry a knife out here. It seemed wise especially after dealing with the vints and that huge orc today.

When a twig snaps behind me, I turn and slash outward with my knife. A hand with the strength of ten men locked around my wrist like a steel vise.

"Better," my orc says as he releases me. "You brought a knife and reacted properly, but you are still walking like a herd of yenga flattening the forest."

"You're the one who snapped a twig," I say, a little insulted. And hurt that he wasn't here earlier. That he made me think he didn't care to show up.

His lower lip curls back, flashing the full length of his tusks.

He meant to snap that twig!

"You're testing me?"

"You have skills to learn. Walking these woods is dangerous."

"As dangerous as being alone with you?" I know I'm being unfair, an ass even, but the sting of knowing he never returned to the river to look for me hasn't dulled.

His eyes lift, though I'm not sure if he's surprised by my insult or thinks I still fear him.

"I saw you watching me in the market, but you didn't approach."

He nods, understanding my anger. "My grak has forbidden me from seeing you."

"We only met the one time."

"But he knows."

"How…wait, did you say Grak? That was the orc who bought the boots."

"Yes. That is my grak."

My grak? Is this a language difference or… "Is Grak his name or a title?"

"His full name is not for me to speak, as he has not given me permission."

"What is a grak precisely?"

"My grak is our leader. Our king."

Damn. I wish I'd known that earlier today. Not that it would have changed anything. He behaved like an ass and I was relieved when he left.

I look at the knife lying in my palm. There are no jewels or anything special about it, other than it appears well-crafted. A silver metal forms both blade and hilt. One continuous piece of metal. Too large for my hands, but beautifully balanced.

He knows we met in the woods. Is that why he came to my table?

"How does your grak know we met? That was days ago and we didn't enter the market together."

"A grak has skills beyond most warriors. That is why he is grak."

I don't quite follow that answer, but I don't want to talk about his king. The orc looked at me as if I was nothing more than a body to fuck. He's probably the reason my people think all orcs are monsters.

I push the orc king out of my mind and focus on my orc… who still has no name. My smile returns, because it's hard staying mad at this sweet male.

"Do you do everything your king orders?"

"Yes," he says, glancing over my shoulder, scanning the area. "I always follow orders, though admittedly, not very well. Today is an example. My grak ordered me to stay away from you but when that vint intentionally knocked your tools off your table, every part of me wanted to draw my sword and gut him."

"I saw your grak hold you back. And then you disappeared completely. Are you here to say goodbye?"

"I will not give you up, female. Even on my grak's orders."

My heart thumps, knowing he'd defy his king for me. Not that I want him to get in trouble.

"I wanted to meet you the other day but Owen, that's the guy in charge of our security in Pen'Kesh, he kept me from returning."

"The tall male with sun-colored hair who yells at the human females? "

"That's him."

My orc motions to the knife, that I now realize is his king's. I wonder if I should return it, but he doesn't ask for it back, so I decide to keep it. Owen will realize we're down a pair of boots and demand we hand over whatever we accepted in trade.

"That male would piss himself the moment you point that knife at him."

He's probably right. I suddenly want to try standing up to Owen with a knife. Any knife. I'm tired of being powerless just because the males in New Earth beat us down emotionally.

A green finger lightly drags over my lips and down my throat, drawing a purr from me.

"You make beautiful sounds. Like a song bird," he adds as that finger follows my collar bone to my arm, traveling up and down repeatedly.

Maybe they don't have cats on Orcos, but he sure has an incredibly gentle touch, one which spurs my heart to pump faster.

Keep touching me…

"Beautiful and soft," he whispers as his hand traces the outline of a breast.

I inhale slowly, watching the fascination and gentleness in his expression.

"Your name, please," I beg.

"So very different and yet quite appealing," he mutters as his fingers glide over my nose, then my forehead and hair, each touch slow and done with pure awe, as if he's touching a fabled treasure.

My skin heats at those innocent touches. "Keep touching me," I whisper as his thumb follows the line of my throat. I tilt my head back, making myself vulnerable to him.

A low growl fills the air as that hand slides down to my breast. His thumb circles a very hard nipple, sending a gush of need between my legs.

This isn't happening , I try to convince myself. And yet I don't move. Don't want to move .

The air sizzles between us, the desire pouring off him palpable as my hand lands on his chest. The chiseled muscles, the warmth… I cannot pull away.

A finger slips beneath my collar and skims the top of a breast. Flesh on flesh. Warm, enticing. Forbidden.

"I can't stay long," I push out the words instead of the breathy moan building in me.

His hand withdraws, but not his gaze, which remains locked on me.

"My people will be packing up soon, and I need to know your name before I leave," I add, my hands falling to my side.

"Ryko."

"Ryko," I repeat, his name rolling off my tongue. His face fills with pride when I say his name. "It's a nice name."

"My name is yours, female. All of me is. And you are mine."

Ryko doesn't play games. But that's moving a bit too fast for me.

"Not yet, I'm not."

He runs his nose along my neck and buries it in my hair.

"What are you doing?"

"Claiming you. Declaring you mine."

He can't be serious, can he?

I put my hands on his chest and nudge him back. "I'm not ready to be claimed. By anyone."

The ridges on his brow lift. "I'm a male of skill and worth."

"Yes, you are. But you've only just told me your name. We don't really know one another, right?"

"My name tells you who I am."

"I don't know about orcan names." His eyebrows purse and he nods, the unmistakable look of disappointment on his face. "But I'm guessing your name means tall, gorgeous, brave warrior whose stronger than everyone."

He laughs, so hardy and carefree that I'm unprepared when he lifts me up into the air. My feet dangle several feet off the ground .

"Put me down before you hurt yourself!" I swat his shoulders. "I'm too heavy for you."

"You are as light as a bird, as beautiful as a flower, and I suspect you taste as sweet as hekka drops."

I don't know what hekka drops are, but my lower half goes all tingly at the thought of him tasting me.

"Put me down."

"Only if you kiss me."

"Eventually, you'll get tired and have to put me down."

"Is that a challenge, female?" His eyes light with that question.

"Do you want it to be?" I'm not sure what I'm doing here, other than flirting, but damn, I can't stop myself. Everything about him feels so damn… r.

"Orcs thrive on challenges," he says.

"One kiss," I give in all too easily, because he's a temptation too decadent to resist, like a scrumptious piece of chocolate cake. "Only because I have to get back."

"I choose where I kiss you."

Here or closer to the market is fine, as long as no one sees us, but he's too smart to let that happen. "Okay."

He sets me down, then clears an area of stones and branches. What is he doing?

"On the ground, female. Lift your skirt and spread your legs."

"I said a kiss!"

"Yes. And you said I may choose where. I've chosen."