10. Rok’nhar

TEN

The bed creaksas I ease my arm out from under Orlagh. For a moment I don't dare move, standing stock still with my breath held fast until I'm sure she's settled and still snoring.

Except it ain't exactly snoring, is it? More like a sweet little purr, a teeny, breathy little rumble from a sleepy kitten on a big, sunny porch in the middle of July.

Five days and nights she's been sleeping here and every day still feels like I'm in a fucking dream. Especially moments like these. Small, simple moments like looking down at her all curled up in my bed, like meeting her at the door after her morning shift with a kiss before I trek it to work, or coming home after a long, rough night on the line to find her still here, curled up in the corner of the couch, watching some trashy reality TV with Granny's old blanket wrapped around her. The past few days together have been so intimate, so surreal, so easy even though we've been working opposite schedules. I'm glad we could both swing the day off today, even if we'll have to use it to get some shit done.

I stand beside the bed a little longer than I need to because, godsdamn, but she's beautiful. Those elegant fingers of hers are splayed across her smooth stomach, nimble and delicate and strong as all hell, just like she is. She lets out a little sigh as she rolls onto her side, taking the sheets with her and leaving me staring at a sight I will never tire of: that perfect ass, along with those full hips and thighs.

Fucking hell, I want to reach out and run my hands up those golden thighs, wrap em' around my head and keep ‘em there till they're too spent to quiver and thrash, but I gotta stop.

Already took me ten damn minutes to get myself here, to work up the gumption to pry myself from her sleepy grasp and clean myself up before I head to the kitchen, mostly because all I want to do is lay beside her after waking her up and then fucking her back to sleep, like we'd done so many times through the night. I'd find myself lazing the whole day away in her arms if I wasn't careful, content to simply gaze at her worry-free face, counting her breaths, feeling her heart beat in time with my own, wondering how the fuck I got to be so godsdamn lucky.

I thank any and all gods that may be listening as I force myself to head to the bathroom to get ready for the day, quick and quiet as I'm able, before easing the bedroom door shut and making my way down the hall to the kitchen.My feet are dragging, and it ain't because I'm sleepy. Closing that door between us… hurts, in a way.

Fucking weird.

I shake my arms, pushing on, body reluctant, though why I'm getting this strange adrenaline rush I could not say. She's in my apartment for fuck's sake, I know she's right there, all tangled up in my sheets with a sleepy little smile on her sweet face, but damn it all if having her out of my sight isn't making my heart race, panic creepin' into my thoughts.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Part of me wants nothing more than to spend the whole day lying there with her arms around me, sure. But is that all this is, though? Is it just that sensation I'm stuck on?

Truth is, it's a new one, and that's hard to admit at thirty-one. Never had anyone cling to me in bed like she does and it's… wonderful. My ex kept to the far side for four damn years, practically rolling off the edge every night, always muttering some hurtful shit about not wanting to be crushed, and the casual partners I'd found comfort with over the years were both few and far between and quick to skedaddle when the sun came up. Not Orlagh, though. She had no qualms about wrapping those golden limbs around me from the get, hands roaming blessedly free, practically pushing me out of the damn bed in her efforts to snuggle up. Makes it hard not to think that all this between us is fate, that all that old school orc shit I grew up yearning for is actually more than a distant godsdamn dream, that it's actually happening to me, right fucking here, right fucking now.

Don't take me long to get things sorted in the kitchen despite my distracting thoughts because, well, I am quite literally a professional. Damn good at what I do, too. It's second nature to throw on an apron and get in the zone, grabbing things as I go, firing this and that over the range, whisking and chopping and humming to myself all the while.

Feels good to cook for two, I must say.

I've nearly got the carrot juice pressed and on the table when I catch her scent, heartbeat picking up as I hear her dainty little feet pad into the kitchen, feel those golden hands snake around my middle.

"Morning," she breathes into my back, and it's like she's breathing life right into me, all that tension and worry melting away in the sunny warmth that is Orlagh.

"Morning yourself, sunshine." I look back at her over my shoulder, twisting to press a kiss to the top of her head before turning back to the bacon, not wanting to lose focus and splatter any grease on her. "Why don't you settle yourself down while I finish up? Don't need much longer."

Her soft, sweet lips press into my back, again and again, leaving a breathy little trail that wakes my prick right up. "I will, once I shower. Just wanted to say good morning and…" She snatches a piece of boar bacon off the counter, eyes sparkling as she fixes me with a sly grin.

"Hey now," I laugh, playfully snapping my tongs after her as she scampers off. "That was for the cat!"

She rolls her eyes, practically skipping toward the hall. "Oh, that cat won't mind; he loves me."

"He? You… you do know that cat of yours is a female, don't you?"

"What?! I've been calling him?—"

"Her."

"—calling her Gandalf for like two years," she calls over her shoulder, heading into the bedroom and out of my sight, "and that's not my cat!"

For a moment I'm confused, because that cat has very obviously been Orlagh's for two years, but… she's messing with me, has to be.

A quiet, polite little meow breaks me out of my thoughts, and I turn to find the furry face in question at my sliding glass door, waiting patiently like she does nearly every morning. I finish frying up the bacon, letting a piece cool as I take care of the grease, and then take it out to the cat, still regarding me serenely from the other side of the glass.

"Now don't pay your mama any mind…" I mutter, squatting down to let her lick the grease from my fingers, giving her a little scratch along her jowls as she purrs. "She likes to mess with me, is all. She really been calling you Gandalf?"

Another soft little mew and a headbutt answers that question, and then Gandalf is off and running along the balcony railing, probably on her way to see a hobbit about a ring.

Once Orlagh'sdone showering we settle down for breakfast together, both of us famished and focused on the food. It ain't long after we dig in that she unleashes a throaty moan, tossing back her pretty little head, giving me a nice, long look at her bare, golden neck. "I mean, it's just… it's so good, Rok. So fucking good."

Watching her eat her fill is truly an experience. One would think that I'd have gotten used to it by now; the sight of her sighing and moaning and licking her lips while she sits across from me at my kitchen table. Seems like every meal I make brings her untold pleasures, and well, that's quite alright with me; only thing I love more than cooking for those I love is watching them enjoy my offerings.

I lean back, locking my hands behind my head with a smirk, tusk grazing my cheek. "You like it then, sunshine?"

"Oh goddess, yes." She picks up her plate and holds it out towards me, a pretend little pout on her perfect lips that makes me want to do filthy, filthy things. "May I have some more, chef? Pretty please?"

"Look at you," I stack up three more griddlecakes, heaping on an orc-sized portion of brambleberry compote, "one taste of some real down-home Orcish delights and you're hooked."

"Hmm," she breathes, mischievous eyes sparkling. "You don't sound super surprised. Was this your plan all along? Feed me so well that I never want to leave? Stomachs and hearts and all that?"

I shrug and stretch my arms, resting my hands behind my head again with a wink. "Don't matter much if it was or not, not now that I've gone and ruined all other cuisine for you."

Orlagh laughs and digs back in.

"You know what, I don't care if it was premeditated or not, I still want it all day, every day, want to stuff myself full to bursting with every last drop…" She reaches for the syrup and drizzles some more on her plate, and I'm not sure whether I want to laugh or come.

Watching Orlagh tear through these brambleberry griddle cakes is one of the hottest fucking things I've ever seen. That long tongue of hers snaking out to lick up the dark berry juice dripping down her nimble fingers with every greedy bite? Fork abandoned about a griddle cake-and-a-half ago so she could attack her breakfast like a half-starved grizzly with a fresh kill?

Fucking beautiful.

She looks so small, so delicate in my big old dining chair, practically swimming inside one of my big ass shirts, and the contrast of that delicate frame to her downright feral consumption is tickling me clear from my tusks to my godsdamn toes.

"Orlagh… you keep that up and you're never gonna make your appointment. I'm gonna bend you over this fucking table, then we're both gonna need another shower."

Her eyes widen as she stops mid-lick. Now my little tangerine dream is well aware of the effect she has on me by now, on the world I'd assume, but she truly has no idea how sexy she is when she ain't trying to be sexy; rocking up and down on her tippy-toes as she's brushing her teeth, running her fingers all along her pointy ears while she's curled up next to me on the couch and scrolling on her phone, and most especially when she's said fuck you, kindly to all her table manners as she devours a dish I cooked up especially for her. She'd held on to propriety the first couple days here, putting all those etiquette classes she was forced into back in Fair Isle to use, but that's all out the window now, and thank the gods for that. Getting to see her bare herself to me like this, to have her get so comfortable here? Almost fills me with more pleasure than making her come all over me does.

Almost.

"I can't help it!" she laughs, blushing so prettily it hurts just to look at her. "This is just… sun above, I really think this is the most delicious thing I've ever tasted. And I know, I know, I say that at every meal, but… this? This is going to be hard to top."

Pride unfurls like a lion in my chest, shaking out his mane, preening. I sit up a little straighter, resting a forearm on the table. "What can I say? I like to cook and I like to eat."

"Mmm… and you're exceptional at both." She catches my eye, and it's clear she ain't talking about breakfast no more.

I stab at a couple of cheddar and chive hash browns from the plate between us and slather them with the last dregs of brambleberry compote I'd heaped onto my own plate, trying to ignore my prick jumping to life in my pants, cause it's clear that now we're both getting hungry for something more.

"You got big appetites all around, too, sunshine, and you know I'm always happy to… oblige."

I give her another wink and she giggles, cheeks still lit up like a strawberry sunset.

"Well, I'm always happy when you oblige. Like last night," she trails off, gazing at me with those beautiful fawn eyes, "and then the twice at sunrise…" Her fingers dance up that long neck and my gaze follows suit. One finger busies itself tracing the shell of her ear as she looks me up and down with an arched brow. My mouth goes dry, skin hot, sucking in a breath through my tusks. "After all that, Rok? Quite frankly, I'm starving."

"Uh-uh, nope, nope," I shake my head and stuff a big ass bite of griddle cakes into my mouth, pointing my fork at her afterwards, mustering up all the strength I got to ignore my prick and get us back on track for the day. "You got somewhere important to be this morning and I'm taking care of the carpets at your place, remember? Keep on talking like that and I'm just gonna toss you right back into bed and keep you there all tomorrow and Friday, too."

"That doesn't sound so bad…"

"Well, of course it don't, but then it'll take at least another week to pin down that damn insurance agent, and I know you want to be done with all of that. And you'll have dirty carpets when that couch gets here."

"Fine, fine, you're right, of course," she huffs, tucking back into her food. "I'll go, even though I'd rather stay. But at least tell me, are there blood oranges in this compote? Or am I just smelling and tasting them everywhere now?"

That pulls a chuckle from me. "Nope, blood orange, brambleberry, and benzoin."

Her brows crinkle in question as she continues to chew, head cocked to the side, and I realize that what's common fare for me truly is a novel experience for her. "Tree sap, in plainer terms. Orcish fare is rife with it—not the garbage they pass off as sap at Orc-N-Out, mind you. We harvest and sell it back home, and I always stock up when I find myself in Brok'hal, though that compote there ain't exactly traditional."

"You added the oranges for me?"

"Yeah," I say, shrugging sheepishly. "Know you like em', so I tweaked Granny's recipe. A little Elven, a little Orcish… makes a damn fine combo, if you ask me."

Our eyes meet and it's another charged moment before she makes a satisfied little hum and digs back in. "Well, then the glowing is still a mystery, but at the very least I'm not tasting phantom oranges in my food. Thank Solstra for small miracles. And tree sap. And you, and your granny."

I raise my glass of carrot juice in salute. "I'll drink to that. And… hells, I'm sorry you're still stuck in the dark. I know you can't rightly call your sister again, but still nothing online at all? No return calls from those fancy-ass concierge doctors back home?"

"Nope."

"Really?"

"Really, Rok. I told you, sun elves are insanely secretive. Our archives are still in scroll form, for goddess's sake, and only anthropologists and history buffs like my sister ever get their bigoted little hands on them. And it's not like I can namedrop to force a call back. Well, I could, but if it got back to my mom, which it would…"

"Hey—no shame in holding out for that nest egg your great-granny set aside, especially with it so close to coming your way. Life's a gamble, and you gotta hang onto whatever you can to help you win, to make the game worth it."

"Goddess be praised, summer is coming up fast, isn't it? And, yeah…" she says, trailing off with a slow, lazy smile. "You really do."

We eat in silence a bit longer, and when it's clear my insatiable tangerine dream has nearly had her fill, I clear my throat.

"Hey, uh… before you head out and I forget," I toss my napkin onto the table next to my plate as I get up, making my way around the kitchen island, nervous as all hell. The junk drawer is full of crap I rarely think about: six brochures to Haf's gym, a few loose batteries, and my spare keys, hanging on a keychain with the little Dinners Dragons crest on it, a cheesy bit of swag I'd gotten my first day on the job.

Orlagh watches me approach, eyes glued to the keys twirling around my finger, and her chewing slows even more.My tongue feels thick, heart in my throat, as I take her delicate hand, palm up, and place the keys in it, worrying my tusks all the while.

"May as well make it official, right? Closing in on a week here, after all."

She hasn't even looked up at me from the keys yet, violet eyes shining as she bites back a smile. Fuck, she's so cute. "Rok. The bed's supposed to be here by Sunday. You really don't have?—"

I lean down and silence her with a kiss, her plush lips parting and letting me taste the sweet berries on her tongue, arms snaking around my neck as our lips glide against each other a moment or two longer than they probably should, the gentle jangle of my keys—no, her keys now—dangling off her nimble fingers beside my ear all the while.

She's all flushed again when we part, strawberries and sunshine and something that makes me feel like I'm the only orc in the world. I step back to the table, tusk catching on my lip as I grin like a fool, grabbing up our plates and striding to the sink. "Sunday's a few days off yet, anyhow. And besides, I… I want you to have it. Even after you're settled back in."

"You know…" she mutters, and I hear the hint of a smile in her voice as I'm sudsin' at the sink, "…giving me your spare keys is totally something a boyfriend would do."

A rush of warmth and heat runs up my back, and for a damn crazy moment I think all this emotion I'm feeling is about to bubble up and burst right out of my fucking eyeballs. My hands still beneath the water, the scrubby-faced sponge dropping to the bottom of the sink, plate nearly slipping down into the suds along with it.

"And, uh… accepting my spare keys. That something a girlfriend would do?"

The empty, quiet air behind hits me in the gut, fucking hard. Part of me is too terrified to turn around, but when I finally do look back over my shoulder, I'm about as relieved by the smile I find waiting for me as I am worried by the hesitation furrowing her brows.

"Listen, sunshine. I didn't mean to rush you. We don't… well, you don't have to?—"

Orlagh shakes her head, interjecting, "No, Rok."

I feel like I've been slapped. Those fucking joyous feelings I was so worried were gonna burst out of me? Yeah, gone. Crushed. Muscled out by the tears springing into the corners of my eyes despite my furious blinking, just like a godsdamn scolded orcling. And of course she's looking right at them.

Fuck.

"Wait, no… I mean yes!" A spoon goes skittering across the floor as Orlagh pushes back from the table. "No was to your backtracking, yes is… to the other thing. The girlfriend thing."

A deep, sweet burn fills my chest, one of those godsdamnable fucking tears popping out too quick for me to dash away, though she's kind enough to ignore it just like I am. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she smiles. "Sorry. It's just.. we're moving so fast, you know?"

"I know."

"But… it still feels right. It's crazy, but I think… no, I know that I want you. That I want to be… yours. All yours."

I let the plate drop into the sink, water left running as I close the distance between us, forearms still covered in bubbles. Those last bits of hesitation melt off her face as Orlagh beams up at me, and I take a special pride in her amused shrieks as I take her up in my arms, enjoying the feel of her own snaking around my neck as I walk us towards the bedroom. "Well, then… I think I'm gonna have to call a cab, seeing as my girlfriend's about to miss her train."

I watchthe cab pull out of the parking lot from up on my balcony, all kinds of conflicting emotions jostling around in me. Mostly I'm walking on cloud fucking nine, though. I may weigh five hundred and thirty-nine pounds, but I feel lighter than a phoenix feather floating in the breeze, even on a grey, rainy day like this, even with Orlagh out of my sight.

The elf in 16C, Orlagh, is my girlfriend.

Mine.

Warmth runs through me as I gather up all my rug cleaning supplies and make my way next door, but this panicky possessiveness is creeping close, fogging up my mind, doing its damndest to taint the unbridled elation I'm feeling.

I hadn't wanted to let her leave my sight, and frankly I'm godsdamn relieved I had a legitimate reason to get her a car uptown instead of her taking public transit, especially after our little disagreement. She may be young for an elf, but she's still twice my age and twice as fierce about her independence after the way she grew up, what she's told me of what she went through with Wolf these past few years and her exes before. I wouldn't have her any other way, truly, but… well, I can't stop picturing that fucking asshole at her door or the fucking shambles he ordered his pack to leave her apartment in, can't shake this feeling of unease whenever she ain't in my sight.

"It's been a week," she'd said, hopping into her wool tights before rushing into the living room to pull on her rain boots, continuing our conversation on the move. "He's not a smart werewolf, but that was an insane amount of property damage. He's, at the very least, smart enough not to come back to the scene of that kind of crime."

I'd followed her out, rubbing at my damp hair with a towel. "Smart? Orlagh, he's downright deranged, and he ain't in this alone, not with that godsdamn feral pack at his beck and call and willing to do the kind of shit they did."

"But he didn't show up himself again, did he? And he hasn't sent anyone else, has he?" she'd snapped, tone getting clippier than a clothespin by the second. "Rok, I'm telling you, I know him. He's scared of you, scared of Ulrich, scared of finally getting pinned to something he can't lean on his pack to weasel his way out of. I know he's worried about being on the hook for thousands of dollars worth of damage now that the insurance company is filing a suit, worried about himself like he always is."

"Sunshine, you got it all wrong," I'd said, as gently as I could. "He's shown you his true colors, again and again. He is dangerous, and… and you're fooling yourself if you think otherwise."

The words hadn't been easy to say, but I said ‘em. Orlagh had shrugged on her coat, stilling for a moment before straightening the lapel and crossing her arms over her chest, violet eyes full of a much different kind of fire than she'd directed at me before.

"Listen. I didn't mean…" I'd sighed, plopping down on the couch and rubbing my forehead, eyes closed. "Look, that came out wrong. I'm not saying I know your ex better than you do, not exactly."

"No? Then what are you saying, Rok? Exactly?"

"I'm saying that the more I think about it, the more I wonder if he didn't do all that on purpose, right? Test the waters by sending his crew, seeing how you'd react, how I'd react. They knew you weren't here, and if they knew that then, if he's just waiting for you to be on your own now and?—"

A waspish smile tightened her face. "I see. You don't think I can take care of myself. That I have taken care of myself for quite some time now? Before Wolf, before you?"

"Hey now, that ain't it. I know you can, know you have, I… I guess…" My throat had gone all tight, words spilling out rapid fire and seemingly of their own accord, all choked and thick. "Fuck me, but there's part of me that wants… needs to take care of you, Orlagh. Keep you safe. It's new, and it's hard to explain without sounding fucking crazy, because it is fucking crazy, like all of this with us is fucking crazy. I just…"

"Oh, Rok." Her arms had fallen to her sides as she'd approached the couch, stopping right in front of me and grabbing up both my hands. "There's a part of me that feels the same, you know? Part of me that wants to… well, sun above, to quit my job and break my lease and stick to you like the neediest kind of glue there ever was and never ever do another thing without you ever again. I am in there, in that crazy with you. But… this is my mess, my mess that you're being so wonderful about helping me wade through. My mess. When I broke things off with Wolf, I promised myself that I would not live in a scared little bubble because of that asshole anymore, and I'm not going to break that promise to myself today."

I still didn't agree with her, but what more could I have said? Nothing that wouldn't drive her farther away from me, and I'd tear out both my tusks before I went and did that. All I had was a feeling in my gut and a crazy fucking bundle of worries in my brain. I sure as fuck didn't trust Wolf, but I needed to trust Orlagh, and I needed to let her know I did.

"I'm sorry," I'd said, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her in close. "You're right. You know him better that I do. And I swear I'm not trying to overstep, but I can see that I am now. I hope you know I ain't acting all territorial cause I think I own you, that you don't own yourself, know yourself. It's because I…I…"

I'd almost said it, but it wasn't right, wasn't the right time. Those two words unspoken hung heavy in the air between us, though, cause when she'd tilted her pointed chin up and kissed me… it was something else, something new. Long and slow and sweeter than any kiss I'd ever had, making my heart somehow heavier and lighter in my chest, sinking and floating, all at the same time.

It was hard to break that kiss and say goodbye to her, to close the door to my apartment with her on the other side, to walk out to my balcony and watch that cab drive off without hopping over the rail and running after her, logic and reason and personal safety be damned. But it's done now. And I trust her, even if I don't trust those fucking dogs.

I finish fishing out my commercial-grade Carpet Cleric and set up shop at her place after I get dressed, tamping down the urge to text her, abso-fucking-lutely ready for the frenzied distraction that cleaning a big old mess always provides. I lose myself in the task at hand, headphones on full blast, treating her carpet like my own personal Zen garden; making long stripes with the vacuum, stopping and scrubbing here and there at the stubborn spots, and then loading up the Carpet Cleric for the final sweep, finding comfort in the barely concealed chemical scent of the shampoo beneath the eucalyptus and thyme, distracting myself with the challenge of executing a meticulously perfect, completely unbroken pass from bedroom to front door.

Didn't take me more than an hour to do it all, though, so now I'm panting in the hall, sweat on my brow, music still blaring in my ears, reality sinking in alongside a rush of nervous energy. Fuck, but I need something else to do, something to keep me occupied till this afternoon when she gets back and I can breathe again, keep me from texting her every ten godsdamn seconds and pacing my floors. And then it comes to me—why not take care of the drywall repairs? I couldn't help but clock every little ding and scrape on those walls while I was cleaning the carpets, not to mention stop and stare at that mess of patched up holes in her bedroom, breathing hard and clenching my fists as that constant stream of worry in the back of my mind churned into a red-hot rage, burning through me with a renewed and dangerous fervor.

Decision made, I pop back into my place, grabbing my raincoat and keys before hitting the streets, shooting Orlagh a quick text.

Rok'nhar

Gonna run out for a bit, but I should be back before you are.

I'm at Hardware House loading up my basket with the good alchemical shit when she replies, feeling damn proud of myself for forcing myself to keep my phone in my pocket until it buzzed, and a tad ashamed for how quickly I scrambled to grab it, moving so fast I scared the smoke out of a flame demon with an armful of caulk.

Orlagh

Oh, you definitely will be, because apparently my agent had a family emergency, so now I'm stuck here waiting to see someone else.

But they can't give me a name or an ETA?

So annoying, starting to wonder if it's personal even though I know that is so very, very self-centered of me.

Anyway, I'll text you when I actually get to leave.

Rok'nhar

That's some bullshit. Hope those fuckers give you every dime you deserve, sunshine, and then some. Keep me posted.

Orlagh

I will.

Miss you, kind of wish we'd just stayed in bed.

I smile, leaning my elbows on the handle of my cart as I stop where I'm at and reply in kind. I see Haf texted me too, wanting to confirm our usual pre-bloodball sandwiches at my place on Friday, asking not one, not two, but three inappropriate questions about my recently established sex life. Unfortunately, I don't realize I'm at a counter until I tuck my phone away, or that there's been a minotaur in an orange work vest staring at me from behind said counter, arms crossed, snout flaring around a golden nose ring with each freshly huffed breath.

"Oh good, you woke up. Let's try this again, orc: where's your swatch?"

Now, part of me wants to talk back to this old, gruff motherfucker, but I know I'd be annoyed if I was clomping in his hooves behind that counter, some big asshole staring at his phone instead of answering me, so I hold my tongue, forcibly minding my manners, looking around and realizing I'm stopped up in front of the paint mixing counter.

"Apologies, sir. And I don't got a swatch…" My voice trails off as a soft, sunny orange on the wall behind him catches my eye, an idea sprouting. "But I got an idea of what I'm looking for."

Drywall repairs areeasy as pie, albeit messy as hell. Glad I went ahead and sprung for the quick-set alchemical shit, as well as lugged that big rolled-up sheet of canvas home over my shoulders along with all the paint and supplies, even if it was kind of a pain in the ass to manage it all in the rain. Walking was good, hauling heavy shit was good; kept me moving my body more than my mind.

I strip off my shirt and wipe the sweat from my neck when I'm done, ready to get to painting, when my phone starts to buzz. Not an update from Orlagh or a reply from Haf, though—it's Mama. We don't get to talk too often, both of us being workaholics in different time zones, but I cherish when we do connect, so I accept the video chat.

She's got a warm smile waiting for me, same one she's had my whole life, though it is looking a bit more weary these days. Granny passed not long after I'd left for Galtree, and I remembered all too well how difficult Grandad was to live with before she left us; old man's downright mean now that he's a widower. A pang of sadness hits me, and gratitude, as I'm reminded of the kindness that was sending me off to the big city under his nose, shielding me from all that clan bullshit so I could follow my dreams. I smile back at her, truly glad to see her kind face.

"Hey Mama, how you been?"

"Oh, you know me," she drawls, sipping on some tea, "just working and spending more money on those damn lemurs than your grandad thinks I should."

That smile of mine grows as I think about the Yule card she sent out last year, of her and her pair of lemurs in matching holly crowns and Grandad scowling with a pipe beside her.

"How many you got now?"

"Still just the two. Yalta'hrar says she might have an infant for me next month, though I think bringing in a little one might just do your grandad in. But enough about my furry little loves. How are you, darling? What's new?"

"Good, good. I…"

"Hold on now," she laughs, eyes crinkling as she leans closer to her phone, "where you at, and where's your shirt?"

"Oh, I…" I prop my phone up on top of a box and scramble to get my shirt back on, and I can hear her cracking up all the while.

"You're blushing, Rok! Oh… oh my… You've got some news for me, don't you?"

Chugging my water helps cool the flames in my face, but I'm still feeling… nervous. Good nervous, faerie dust and butterflies all banging about my insides at the thought of all that's happened this past week. "Well I might, I might. I do."

That warm smile grows warmer still as she rocks back and claps her hands. "Oh honey, I'm so happy for you. Tell me all about her, and don't you dare leave a thing out."

"Can't get a thing past you, huh?"

"Never could, honest eyes like yours," she laughs. "Now spill, sugar."

"Alright, alright! Her name's Orlagh, and… well hells, she's pure sunshine. I can't even explain it, Ma, it's all happened so fast."

"How fast we talkin'? Orclings fast??"

"No, no," I roll my eyes, because of course she's chomping at that bit. "It's kind of a long story but, well, suffice to say we've been neighbors for a couple years and recently we became… more. A bit more. She's… she's my girlfriend and… she's something special."

Mama goes quiet for a moment, kind of a dreamy look in her eye. "You found your mate."

I laugh, smile getting bigger. "Don't get your hopes up too high, now. I mean, I hope she's my mate. But she's not an orc, she's a sun elf, and we just starting dating and… hang on, can… can you know? Did you know, before you and daddy made it official?"

"Well, who can say…" The dreamy look on her face turns into something else. She looks over her shoulder before walking through the kitchen, same one I first learned to boil down brambleberries and fire off fireleaf fritters next to Granny in, and then steps out onto the back porch, easing into her pine rocker. "I swore to your grandad that I'd take it all to the grave. But he ain't here and you've been a man grown for some time now, Rok, past carin' about this clan's bullshit. And if you found your mate…"

"Mama, what are you goin' on about?"

She takes a deep breath, the lines on her deep green face clearer than ever. "Your daddy and I never stood before the stone, honey."

My stomach is leaden as I shake my head.

"I'm confused…"

"Your grandad didn't want us to. Different sides of the river, different standings in the clan. But that didn't stop me from running off with him. He was so damn handsome, just like you. But time passed, and when we showed back up on this here porch, me with my belly round and your daddy with his hat in his hands and a promise to stay out of trouble tumblin' out his tusks, well… we convinced your Granny to let us stand before the clan, make it official, and she convinced your Grandad."

"Then… you weren't mates."

She stops rocking, fixing me with a stern look that I'd seen many a time before. "Oh yes we were, Rok'nhar, and I didn't need some old stone and a bunch of backwards folk I never respected in the first place standing witness to confirm what I could feel in my bones—he was my mate. I belonged to your daddy, still do."

"How can you be so sure, though, Mama? Kneeling before the stone is the only way to see if you're bonded, to seal it, right? That's why everybody does it, hoping for a fated union?"

She lights up a cigarette, and I'm too shocked by her previous admission to even think about admonishing her for starting up that nasty habit again.

"How do you feel when you've got her by your side, honey?"

Like my prick has a mind of its own, like I want to bathe in her scent and hold her close.

"Normal, mostly."

Those charcoal eyes of hers ain't buying it, as cool and grey as the smoke streaming out of her nose, swirling around her tusks, but she doesn't press. We may be close, but there are just some things a mother doesn't need to hear, like how her son would happily suffocate between his girlfriend's trembling, golden thighs if it was the only way'd he'd get a taste of her juicy, dripping cunt again.

"Mm-hmm. And when you ain't, when she's gone?"

This'll be easier to explain, though harder to admit.

"Well, it… hurts. Hard to part, harder than it should be. But things are complicated, there's this business with her ex and?—"

"It's the bond, baby. It gets wild, dangerous when you don't complete it, and it's what drove your daddy half-mad, drove him to do what he did."

I look at my phone for a long moment, a little shocked at just how rose-tinted her glasses had gotten over time. "Mama, I mean no disrespect, but what in the hells are you talking about? Daddy was always in trouble, always violent. I… well, I saw his rap sheet once I figured out I could access his records. And I heard it left and right from everyone who had a mind to tell me why I wasn't shit growing up. You know how those upper-crust clan folk are, always so happy to tusk-wag about everyone else's business."

"I do, the miserable fucks, and they weren't all wrong, but Rok… your daddy loved me more than anything. He never would have gone off like he did if we'd been allowed to do things proper, never would have taken it that far. I… I had a beau before we ran off together, see, and when he heard the news about us, well… well, he got out of line. And when your daddy tried to put him back in line, protect what was his, things just went wrong, got confused—" The sound of a door slamming makes her jump, and I can hear my grandad calling out in the background, home from the mines and grumpy as ever.

"Rok, baby, if you think she's your mate," she whispers, leaning close to the phone. "Come home and stand at the stone before it gets worse. I'm sorry. I should have told you ages ago, but I made that godsdamn promise, and your grandad was clear, if he'd thought you knew, there would have been no amount of convincing from your Granny that could have changed his mind, kept us here. I damn near lost my mind when I lost your father, couldn't take care of myself, and with you on the way…"

"Mama, stop. It's alright," I say, pushing my hair out of my eyes, though I'm feeling like it's all anything but alright. I knew she'd had a dark period of time back then, knew Granny took care of me when she was too low to eat or leave her bed, and I didn't fault her for it. I thought losing a mate must hurt worse than anything, but if they didn't even stand at the stone, if she'd been lying to herself all this time… "Just… don't think twice on it. We'll talk again soon. I love you."

"I love you too, honey."

I stare at my phone a moment after the call ends. Grandad was always a hardass, old school to the point of problematic, but… I'm not sure what to believe. I saw all the criminal charges my daddy had racked up before I moved away, heard from anyone who had a mind to tell me that he had been absolute trash, a murderer, the wrong sort. Was him being her mate just a lie my Mama had told herself to ease the pain of falling for an orc Grandad didn't approve of, the pain of wrecking her life for him only to have him wreck it all beyond repair—a lie I'd spent my life believing?

Cause what was the alternative? That it's all true? That this territorial, macho shit that's cropped up is a sign that Orlagh is my mate, just like I've been dreaming of? A sign that I'm likely to lose control of my own damn self if Wolf shows up around here again, do something I'll regret a thousand times over and lose the loved ones I left behind back home, lose the life I've built for myself? Lose Orlagh? Lose the future I so desperately want with her if I don't… if I don't go drag her out in front of a big old rock back home and say some ancient ass words?

Fucking hells.

Things were already moving so fast, and she's already freaked out by the pace of us slapping that label on what we're doing. I am too when I stop to think about it, but… well, I guess secretly dreaming about her the past couple of years, dreaming about a mate my whole damn life, makes the idea of being together, the idea of fate forcing us to join hands before the old Brok'halak gods this fast an easier pill to swallow.

I'm mired deep in my own thoughts, beyond distracted by that big old jumble of what-if's and why-not's as I paint the bedroom, so much so that I don't register Orlagh's scent or her shouted words when she walks in.

"Rok? ROK?"

"Oh, shit..." I tear out my headphones once her voice cuts through, ready to turn and scoop her up in my arms, but I'm stopped short by the look on her face; it's guarded, to say the least. "Well uh, welcome back, sunshine."

She sets down her things, shrugging out of her coat, and I can't tell if that look in her eyes is the good kind of strange or the bad kind.

Fuck.

"Rok, what… what are you doing?"

Panic boils up inside me, hits me like a fucking timber as realize that I may have taken far too much liberty here, that this isn't the grand romantic gesture I thought it would be. This is her space, and I'm barely her boyfriend—what the fuck is wrong with me? Am I just the dumbass, love-struck orc steamrolling into her place and painting up her personal space without even consulting her about the particulars?

"I'm sorry," I stammer, the words coming out too fast, more words tumbling out of my mouth without bothering to stop in at any mental checkpoints. "I finished your carpets and was just gonna do the drywall, but then I wound up in front of the paint counter at Hardware House after you texted me and this minotaur started hassling me about swatches? So I saw this tangerine one that was a shade darker than your hair, and then all the colors started reminding me of you and your place and I thought about that pretty pastel little doormat you have, those little beaded throw pillows you'd had on your bed, about the coffee mug I'd seen on my way in to your room that first night, when we streamed, the one you were so sad about finding busted after our date and… well, I thought that must be a color you loved, and I realized it was I color I loved because it's the same shade of your eyes, and?—"

"Oh, Rok…" she sighs, already closing the distance between us, already wrapping her arms around my middle. "It… it's a lovely color."

"But?"

The fabric of my shirt gets all hot and damp as she sighs against me. "But… I wish you'd asked. I like it a lot. Would I have picked a different color? Maybe, if I'd had a chance."

"Fuck… I… I'm sorry. I was trying to be thoughtful, but I guess… I guess I didn't think it through."

Tension eases out of her shoulders as she rests her chin on my stomach, looking up at me with violet eyes that match the wall behind her. "Listen, it's been a weird, long day, and you are very, very sweet. I'm just feeling a little overwhelmed, a little like I've lost control of my life again. Maybe… maybe painting is just the distraction I need?"

We finished painting together before making our way back to my place and ordering in. I didn't wind up telling her I loved her, though I sure as hell wanted to. And I didn't tell her what my mama revealed, either, though I wanted to do that, too. Just one more night, I told myself. One more perfect night with this perfect elf, one more night before I tell her the truth behind all that old school orc shit I'd fantasized about my whole life.

I know I need to, even though I think this last straw might just be heavy enough to break us.