Chapter 1

Rhokar

Sometimes, I forget how much I hate people.

Then I haul my forty-five-year-old ass from Idaho to Salt Lake City just to spend three full days at the biggest construction convention of the year, with thousands of fae and humans alike swarming through workshops, exhibits, discussions, and networking. Gods, the networking.

If I never have to interact with another person again in my life, I wouldn't miss it.

My phone rings as I stride out the moment the last keynote speaker is done, and I pull it from my suit pocket to see Olistaire's name flashing across my screen. "What?"

"What do you mean, what?" His voice holds a definite grin in it, and I power into the streets surrounding the warehouse the convention was in. "Can't your business partner call to ask how business went?"

"If you wanted to know, you should have come."

"Hey, hey," he immediately backpedals, "I'm in real-estate. I'm not the one who owns a construction company with cranes and…other buildy shit. This is your field of expertise."

I grunt.

"Okay, well, I can see you're in a sparkling good mood, so I'll assume everything was peachy and leave you to it. Go get yourself a drink or something, you grumpy orc bastard."

I grunt again and hang up, although for once in his miserable minotaur life he's said something worth listening to, and I veer into the next bar I see without paying much attention.

It's some swanky, hipster place with slick metal tables and those pretentious, exposed ceilings with the pipework on display. But they have beer, which is good enough for me, and I order a draft and drop myself at a corner table.

The good thing about bigger cities is that they actually have size-appropriate facilities to cater for a mix of fae races. I went to a seminar once in Twin Falls and they didn't have a single cup in town that didn't feel like a thimble in my hands. Not to mention the size of their beds. Smaller towns are mostly…well, human. The fae community only came out to the humans forty years ago, when the first human-fae Fated Match cropped up in New Zealand between the Prime Minister and his centaur mate. He'd refused to step down from office, she'd been a little difficult to ‘hide' from the public, and when the rest of the world caught wind, many other fae took it as an opportunity to show themselves and stop living their lives in the shadows.

Life is better for fae now, but the humans have been a little slow to adapt. They still struggle with accepting each other's mildly varying skin tones, let alone the sudden appearance of countless new species. So I try to stick to big cities, or fae havens like the town I'm from.

"Hey, handsome," a shapely orc woman saunters over to lean one green arm on my table, talon-red fingernails tapping against the metal top. "I—"

"Not interested." I barely even look up from my drink, my bottom lip twitching against my tusks in annoyance.

There's a pause as she stares at me, and I glare down into the last of my drink, before she huffs and turns away with a muttered, "Rude . "

I glare harder. Good. I'm not particularly interested in the company of others in general, but I especially avoid orc females these days.

In one huge swig I finish my drink and stand, intent on getting another—when the entry door directly opposite me swings open. A human female walks in and for some reason, when my gaze sweeps past her, I stop to take in the full length of her figure, top to toe.

Shapely hips encased in tailored black suit pants. Ample bosom behind a silk white button down,

which is buttoned down

just far enough to show that she isn't lacking in that department. I can almost hear the smart clip of her heels as she steps through, and her shiny dark brown hair falls to her shoulders in neat, styled waves.

I blink. Since when do I pay attention to the styling of a women's hair?

She moves across the room alone, and when her bright blue eyes flick across to make contact with mine, I realize I've been standing here like an idiot for several seconds and I quickly look away. But not before I notice the small smile she sends my way.

I frown in annoyance at myself, pushing back a strand of black hair that's fallen out of my topknot, and stomp towards the bar to order a drink like I'd intended. It isn't my fault if the bar is small, and I'm big, and I end up standing sort of near her, as she orders a glass of Pinot noir and slides her equally generous ass onto a bar stool.

When the bartender brings the card reader forward to take her payment, on impulse my arm whips across and I tap my card on the machine before she can get hers down to pay.

Surprised blue eyes flash my way, and her lightly painted lips pop open in an ‘o'. My gaze dips to stare at her mouth for a moment, before dashing back to the young, bored looking bartender processing the payment.

"Another draft," I grunt, dropping my elbows on the bar and leaning forward and great, now I'm flexing at the human. The hell is wrong with me.

When the androgynous, dragonesque wyvern across the bar turns to grab me another over-sized beer mug, my gaze flicks back to the human. She's smiling that small smile again, her head tilted as she watches me.

"Thanks." She lifts her glass, and my gaze dips down to watch as the red liquid tips past her lips.

"You're welcome."

There's a moment of silence as I pay for my beer, and she swivels on her seat to face me, eyeing me up and down. I resist the urge to flex at her again, and when the wyvern hands me my beer, I suddenly don't know whether to leave, or stay right where I am.

"Take a seat?" she murmurs with a gesture, and I eye the too-small metal stool.

"I'll stand."

Her smile broadens, little creases forming around her eyes. "So long as you stay."

A small shiver runs down my spine, and every fiber of my being in that moment decides I'm not leaving this woman's side until I know what she tastes like.

"I'm Rho," I grunt.

"Ella." She extends a slender hand my way, and I stare at it. "No tan line, see?" Her fingers wriggle, flashing her empty ring finger my way. "I know you can't always be sure at our age, but I didn't just take a ring off. I'm single."

I don't tell her the reason I paused was because I was filled with the stupid desire to bring her hand to my lips instead of shaking it like a normal person, and I mentally shake myself out of it.

Lifting my own hand, I wriggle my fingers back at her, and am surprised when I feel a smile on my face to mirror hers.

"Single, too," I confirm.

We shake hands.

And then she gives a light chuckle, her laugh throaty and warm, and I raise my brows.

"Sorry!" she says, mirth sparkling in her eyes, even as her fingers curl in my palm and squeeze. "Sorry, it's just…been a long day at work. And that was slightly awkward somehow, even though it wasn't? Ahh, jeez. Sorry."

Her hand slips away, and she picks up her wine again.

I lift my beer in salute. "To long fucking days."

And to my delight, she chuckles again before lifting her own glass. "To long fucking days!"

As we fall into conversation, she seems perfectly content to lead the flow of topics, allowing me to relax into it, and for once I'm not filled with annoyance at the idea of small talk. In fact, I like it.

In fact , I find her quite interesting. We both steadfastly avoid the topic of work, which is more than fine by me, and instead turn to all sorts of discussions ranging from silly to serious. My attention continues to drift across her body, and hers across mine, as I buy us a few more rounds. She's intelligent, sharp, and extremely easy to talk to, and time flies by quickly at her side.

I couldn't say what we talk about, only that I'm enjoying it. Much more than I normally would. There's something magnetic about her, about the quiet confidence she exudes, and I can't seem to get enough.

Every time she casually touches her collarbone or moves her hair, my eyes track across her pale beige skin like a hungry beast, and I find I've moved closer to her without realizing. Her scent is beginning to wash over me. Sweet and a little smokey, it wraps itself around my senses, and I tip my nose a little closer to her, holding back a suddenly intense desire to sniff her neck.

"What's that look for?"

I blink and draw myself out of my thoughts. "What look?"

She shrugs, the corners of her lips playing at a smile. "That look."

I don't know how to answer, and my eyes drift across the planes of her pretty face, settling on the slightly wine-stained center of her lips.

"I think you're handsome, too," she says as if replying to the way my eyes practically caress her features.

Her voice is quiet, and when I look into her eyes, they're warm and languid and interested. I've never been one for pretty words, and they continue to elude me now. Instead of speaking, I respond by lifting my fingers and touching the ends of her hair, which is just as silky as it looks. When I tuck the strand behind her ear, she tilts her cheek into my palm, and a warmth blooms in my chest that I'm not sure I've felt before.

"I have a hotel room—"

"Yes," I respond before she even finishes, taking a decisive step towards her and dropping my hand to rest on her cinched, lovely, soft waist. "Let's go."

She laughs again, the sound breathier this time, and again I find myself smiling down at her. She really is beautiful. "Well alrighty, Mr. Eager!"

"Eager," I repeat, dipping my face closer to hers, amused and interested— very, very interested in the turn of events this evening. "For you? Yes, I am."

"Jeez…" she whispers, eyes sparkling as she continues to stare up at me.

"So am I throwing you over my shoulder and barging out of here with a war cry?" I ask, flicking my gaze between her eyes and lips. "Or do you want the civilized approach?"

Another laugh escapes her, and she smacks my bicep, before putting her small hands against my chest and giving me a mighty push. Which I choose to step back for, since I'm a gentleman.

"Alright, let's go before you Hulk-smash this place apart."

She threads her fingers through mine, and I allow her to lead us out the doors into the still buzzing city night outside, mostly so I can look at her ass as she walks.

But after a few steps watching her hips sway, I tighten my fingers round hers and draw her off the main road, leading us down a quiet street before turning so that she's caged between a brick wall and me.

She shows no hesitation, instead staring up at me curiously, and I lift her hand and lay a kiss against her small palm. She doesn't shudder or pull away from my tusks, and I press my lips to her skin once more before letting her hand drop.

"Before we go any further, I want you to let me do something."

Her dark brows raise, and her lips quirk. "Uh, I'm not really one for voyeurism."

I snort and shake my head. "Trust me."

"Okay."

For some reason, her easy admission to trust settles in my chest, and I smile. How this woman has got me smiling more in one night than I've done all year, I don't know.

"Move your hair to the side," I order quietly. "Bare your neck to me."

"Is this some sort of orc ritual?" she murmurs, but she doesn't seem fazed as she does what I ask and tilts her neck.

"Maybe." I lean my forearm on the wall above her head, bend down, and take a long, deep breath with my nose just barely grazing her skin.

She smells incredible.

Her smoked-honey scent races straight to my cock and through my head, making me dizzy with a longing like I've never felt before, and my heart thump, thump, thumps against my ribcage.

I groan and drag my nose up the column of her throat and into her hair, taking a step towards her and wrapping my other arm around to clutch her thick ass and push her lush little body flush against me.

"Gods," I find myself saying, as her body and her scent engulfs me entirely, tugging at something deep within my chest as if trying to bind to me. "I've never scented anything like you before."

Slowly, her arms trail up my chest before winding around my neck, and I draw back. "Is that a good thing?"

"Very fucking good," I growl. "Give me your number."

She chuckles, a little nervously this time, but her breaths are coming quicker, and her eyes are full of heat. Her fingers curl up the base of my neck where my hair is cropped short, before it lengthens to pull up into my topknot. "Let's focus on tonight before we think about tomorrow."

"Tonight, huh?" I push my hips into hers with a grin, pressing her back into the wall. "Alright, little Miss Eager."

But I need more than that. I need more of her.

I already know one night won't be enough, not ever.