Erra snickers beside me. “I like your wife. Has fire in her belly, like an orcneas. Best to keep your eyes to yourself, Bodi, before Orgath helps you with that.”
Bodi’s grin widens, baring his large tusks, at Orgath’s fierce scowl. “Orgath knows that I have no designs on his mate. I was actually just wondering if his Sammi has any sisters or friends who are suffering from the lack of a good strong male.”
I can think of several. Unlike some parts of Alaska where men outnumber women, that isn’t the case in Anchorage. There are many single ladies bemoaning the lack of a decent man. But are they willing to hop into bed with a massive orc? That may be a bit trickier.
Erra leaves the table for a few minutes and returns with platters of bread and shredded tender meat. My stomach growls in appreciation when the first delicious whiff of the meat hits me. That earns me a grin from all my table companions. Hey, I can’t help the fact that I have a healthy appetite. I may not be able to boil water, but I can certainly put away a meal.
No one speaks as we dig into the food. Bread gets ripped apart and chunks of meat are grabbed from the platter. There is no cutlery, no niceties; it’s like eating with a bunch of barbarians, and I love it. I don’t feel pressured to pick a dainty portion that I cut into even tinier bites in front of the men I date. Nope, I grab the food with my bare hands just as they do, and we are stuffing our gobs as quick as we can shovel it in. Erra seems, in fact, to be consuming twice as much as anyone else at the table.
When we finish, she leans back and pats her belly and smiles at me. “Have to keep up my strength. I am hard at work growing a warrior.”
Orgath’s eyebrows rise and he smiles. “You and your mate are expecting?”
She nods smugly. “All that fucking since we mated last year did its job.”
I snicker into my mead, swallowing down the rest of the contents to wash down my meal. Part of me wonders briefly what it would be like to be “busy” growing a little orc for Orgath. I freeze at the thought. Where did that come from? I look up and find him watching him with a strange light in his eyes.
The moment is broken when he shakes his head. “Come, Sammi. The daylight won’t last long, and we need to get to the market and return home before we lose the light.”
With a nod, I stand and brush the lingering crumbs from my hands.
Orgath says a final farewell to his friends before we head back out into the sunshine in the direction of the noises and smells coming from the market.
An orc farmer’s market. Imagine.
Chapter 7
Sammi
The market is a cacophony of sounds and smells, some of them incredibly unpleasant. Seriously, some of these boys need to learn the meaning of soap!
I try not to wrinkle my nose as we pass by an ash-gray male wearing a stained apron. His hair hangs in stringy dark locks around his face and from the grease and heavy stink surrounding him I’m certain he hasn’t bathed in weeks. That isn’t even taking into account the careless smear of gore on him from the butchering he’s hard at work doing in that very moment. I hold my breath as we pass, grateful that Orgath isn’t stopping there for any provisions. I’m just glad to see I am not the only one giving him a wide berth; several orcs seem to be intentionally circling wide away from the butcher.
There are, however, many interesting things. Strange spices and teas are traded back and forth. I see a few elves hocking what look like enchanted wares. The elves are so pretty that I can’t help but stare. It’s like running into a male supermodel on the street—you can’t help but stop and appreciate.
The elves are nearly colorless with their alabaster flesh and long white hair. They are fine-boned, yet they are not as dainty as I would have assumed an elf to be. They are almost as broad as the orcs looking over their goods, yet unlike the massive sturdy frame of the locals, they carry the muscle in a graceful, almost feline way. Even their eyes seem to have a gemstone quality to them.
I almost stop breathing in fascination when an emerald set of eyes catches sight of me, and the male issues an inviting smile. That smile edges with a feral, predatory gleam and I suddenly understand why humans treated fae-folk with so much caution in our legends. Orgath growls deep in his chest, seeming to take exception either to my appreciation or the elf’s open observation. The other male doesn’t seem to take it personally. With an impish grin, he turns his attention back to his customers.
“Fucking elves,” I hear him mutter under his breath and I pinch my lips together to keep from laughing.
“That is a lot of hostility toward the pretty boys,” I whisper just loud enough for him to hear me.
I don’t think he hears me, but then I see his lips twitch and know he did. For a minute, it feels good that I managed to lighten his mood just a little. He doesn’t say anything but stays on course through the labyrinth of the market, and it’s all I can do to stay by his side. I sure as hell don’t want to get separated from Orgath in here and wind up lost.
I watch Orgath, a small smile playing on my lips at the way he moves with an aura of authority through the market. He doesn’t appear to notice that orcs yield and make way for him when he approaches, or that the tradesmen leap to attention to entice him with their goods. I hold back a chuckle when a particularly brave dwarf practically steps in front of him to shove a tray of enchanted gems beneath his nose. Orgath scowls fiercely, enough to make any human piss themselves, but does nothing more than politely shake his head and continue on his way.
To my surprise, the first stop is a clothier. There are all kinds of jewelry and accessories too, but the wealth of cloth clothing after wearing animal hides is a nice surprise. Orgath leads me over to some long tunics and digs through them. He immediately pulls out a blue one, shakes it out, and scrutinizes it before handing it to me.
Is he buying me clothes? I’m touched. I don’t think I’ve ever had a guy willingly take me clothes shopping before. A broad bluish orc with heavy bosom and a thick torso hovers nearby, an eager smile on her face. Like Erra, she has small, understated tusks, but unlike the other female, she has a thick and matronly figure. Like all of the orcs, she has the familiar clan tattoos trailing down her face and neck, but her septum ring is ornate, set with lovely stones. Ah, the merchant, I decide.
I hold the tunic up against me and grin. It’s clearly made for an orc. What would probably be a modest fitted tunic on an orc will probably fit me like a knee-length dress. Orgath promptly hands me five others in different colors and I hold my precious treasures close to my breast, giddy with the thought of getting out of the sweaty leather and into something more comfortable. The proprietress is looking happier with each selection too.
Orgath grunts and finally turns his attention on our hovering shadow. “We also need spare boots and slippers for my wife, and any other items that may be essential. She lost most of her belongings recently.”
The female makes a small noise of sympathy, but I can see her eyes gleam as she calculates just what all she thinks I will need. I feel my lips quirking and am grateful for the deep shadows of my hood as she scrutinizes me with a quick full-body glance.
“Your wife is quite small. Half-orc, I assume?” She makes a small noise when he grunts in agreement. “I think perhaps something in my children’s footwear will fit her.”
“My thanks, Gidra,” Orgath says, completely unconcerned with the veritable free rein he has given her. My eyebrows arch. I can imagine that this is going to get expensive for him—and fast. Orgath must have some hidden font of wealth I did not notice in his humble cottage.
True to his instruction, Gidra begins to pile up a mountain of goods, more than I would have ever thought necessary. Among them I see leather supportive bands which I assume is supposed to be something like a bra. Thank the gods, because my girls miss having some sort of support. She adds loose drawstring breeches to the pile, also from the children’s goods, soft slippers and boots, and a blood-red fur-lined cloak, not that I see anything wrong with the gray spa
re that Orgath gave me. I open my mouth to object but Orgath just gives me a stern look, so I shut it just as quick.
“That too,” he says nodding to a set of jewelry. Gold earrings lay with an ornate septum ring and a thick gold cuff set with icy-blue stones. I shake my head, because that’s really way too much and I don’t have the appropriate piercing anyway, but he ignores me as he pulls out a heavy pouch and hands over several gold coins and a few silver pieces. Real honest-to-gods gold coins. Like pirate’s booty gold coins.
“Thirty-three gold pieces and five silver,” the merchant says without even looking up from her task as she packages all of my new belongings.
Orgath fishes out the necessary coins, returning the rest to his pouch before setting the coins on her table. Lightning quick, she pockets the money without even breaking stride. I am duly impressed at that level of mercantile skill.
As we wait for her to finish, two children dart out from behind a curtained area. A pale-gray girl, probably no older than seven, chases after a slightly older greenish-gray boy. He has what appears to be a rag doll in his hands that they’re squabbling about. Seems some things are universal when it comes to children.
Unlike adult orcs, they don’t appear to have any tusks, but the juvenile teeth, which I get a clear view of as the girl starts to wail, are longer and more pointed than the teeth of human children. I guess they don’t get tusks until they get their adult teeth. With or without tusks, they’re adorable.
Gidra sighs impatiently and snatches the doll from the troublemaker, handing it back to the little girl who’s still sniffling as she hugs her cloth doll close to her.
“Fensi, I swear if you don’t leave Bouka alone, I will send you out to hunt with your father next time,” she hisses. “Both of you, back inside,” she says as she shoos them back beyond the curtain. Given the clatter that follows, I’m assuming they live behind the shop.
I almost miss it when Orgath picks up the bundle and bids Gidra good day. Hurriedly, I give a small nod to convey my thanks and follow after him. When I emerge from the shop, I see that Orgath had turned to wait for me to catch up before we head off again into the market.
The rest of our time in the market passes in a flash. Orgath goes to a few stalls to get what looks like salt, flour, and other dry staples before we return to collect Ethiel. For his part, the giant feline didn’t seem to have missed us at all. He’d found a comfortable spot under a sunbeam and obviously spent the day napping.
“Come, Ethiel,” Orgath says as he grabs the padded saddle and blanket. The feline flicks a lazy ear at Orgath but doesn’t otherwise move. He scowls and tries again. “Ethiel.” The delfass yawns, showing off a mouthful of sharp knife-like teeth, but begrudgingly gets to his feet and walks over, his tail twitching lazily.
“Stubborn beast,” Orgath mutters as he straps the saddle and packages onto Ethiel, but I don’t miss the fond smile he gives him as he briefly rubs behind an ear. Ethiel rumbles a pleased purr just before Orgath launches into the saddle and yanks me into his lap once more. My nerves leap to life once again, and I try to ignore the curious warmth I feel coiling inside me.
Is it weird that I’m responding sexually to an orc? He doesn’t even look anything near human. Since I’m so different from female orcs too, I’m probably just as strange to him. Despite the conversation in the tavern, I doubt an orc male would ever really desire a small human.
There’s no way he feels this strange attraction I do.
***
Orgath
The ride home is almost as torturous as the trip to the market, but now it is fueled with a strange, unbidden instinct to seize her and make her my own. That still rages through my blood in such a discomforting impulse despite how much I try to ignore it, and it seems to be progressively worsening. Yet now having seen her wander among my clansfolk, there is a new compulsion that is just as unfamiliar. A strange warmth that is settling around my heart. Not that there aren’t plenty who would say I have no heart, an image I don’t mind cultivating.
As we arrive back at the cottage, for the first time I look at it critically and wonder how Sammi sees it, especially after seeing the common dwellings in the village. I built this cottage, stone by stone, with my own hands, but now I wonder if it is comfortable enough to keep a female in. My mother would not recognize the sort of abode I am choosing to live in—not after the fine craftsmanship of the chieftain’s lodge.
Would Sammi prefer to find a place within the village? I do not know why I care for the wants of my human pet; it is foolishness. It is probably the same reason why I impulsively bought the marital jewels for her. In truth, I know that, despite my intentions, she is not a pet to me. For all her temper and her stubborn, mischievous nature, I enjoy this female and want to keep her with me as something more than a pet.
Do I dare admit—even to myself—that I want her as my wife? I have only known her a few days, but this connection between us is not something either of us will be able to ignore for long. I can already scent the arousal coming from her skin. I know she is not unaffected.
I also know that compared to the fair elven folk in the village, and even among many of the orcs, that as scarred as I am, I am not one who would appeal to a soft female. I am large and as hard as stone, in more ways than one. How a small female can look at me and not be fearful or intimidated, I do not know. However, this does not reduce my desire for her even a little. Desire that kindled the first time she cursed at me, with her eyes flashing and her jaw thrust out in stubborn defiance.
Once Ethiel is cared for and turned loose, we go inside. Sammi says nothing but silently helps me unpack our bundles from the market. She is contemplative but doesn’t speak her thoughts to me. I clean out a trunk in which she can store her belongings and receive a sweet smile in exchange for it. The jewels I set aside in a small box until the day that I may need it, if it ever comes.
It was presumptive to buy them before I even know if she will accept being bonded as wife to an orc. Still, they are a symbol of something… of hope, I suppose.
The waning light forces me to light the lamps as well as the hearth fire, and I close the shutters on the windows because I can smell rain on the air. Damp air doesn’t bother me, but I don’t want her becoming sick.
I settle back into the fur and cushion in the common room and pick up a book just as I hear the crash of thunder. I don’t read more than a few sentences before I glance up at Sammi, taking her in. She sits staring at the fire, tracing invisible patterns with her finger on the stone floor. I hold in a frustrated snarl. She can’t help being bored. There isn’t much to do in the evening. Most orcs would pass their evenings under the furs with their mates, and I am uncertain if she would appreciate such an advance, even to alleviate her boredom. My cock, though, is very much interested in that idea.
She casts a longing look however, not at my cock, but at my book, and I know then that I am not the only one frustrated. I have many books, a room full of them since I have loved the written word since my youth. At one time, I’d considered being a lore-keeper like Erra’s father before my world fell apart. Yet Sammi cannot make use of a single volume. Her talisman allows her to know my language but only the spoken word. She can’t read even a bit of it. Would she even want to learn? It is not like she had a choice in being stranded in Ov’Gorg.
Well, there is no way of knowing without asking.
“Sammi, would you…” I clear my throat awkwardly, “would you like for me to teach you to read?”
As if I spoke the words of some enchantment, her face immediately lights up.
“Really? You’ll teach me? Right now?”
I bare my tusks in a broad smile. “Yes, it will be a good way to pass our evenings. Come, join me over here and I will see if I have any books buried somewhere for children for you to begin with.”
It turns out that I do, in fact, have a whole box of books from my familial home that is full of children’s books, many of them orcish tales that will help her
learn a bit of the customs and culture into which she must now blend. We pass the rest of the evening by the fire, shoulder to shoulder, going over the words. She is a quick learner, my Sammi.
Chapter 8
Sammi
The days pass with a sort of oddly comfortable routine. Since we’d established that I can’t cook, Orgath has been doing most of the cooking. Still, I’m always nearby, because he’s determined to teach me. Even though I tell him I’m a lost cause, he’s good at selectively ignoring my objections.
Since we’re both hard-headed individuals, we often butt heads over the stupidest thing. Our days consist of household chores, which, so far, I pretty much hate all of them because I suck so badly at doing everything. It doesn’t deter him from making me learn, however, which is the root of many of our “discussions.”
This morning, he seems determined that I learn how to milk a goat. Ha… yeah… no. Grabbing ahold of some sensitive bits aside, this creature looks like the malevolent spawn of some denizen of hell. I mean, it is a goat, but the way it’s looking at me makes me leery.
“I’m not reaching my hands under there. That goat hates me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. She doesn’t hate you. She is just a goat.”
“There’s no just about it—I am not putting myself within biting distance of that thing. Look at the way she’s looking at me! Like she wants to take a huge bite out of my—”
“Enough!” he growls. “Put your hands down here… now.”
I give the goat a dirty look and stick my hands down beside his. I can’t believe I’m doing this. Yuck. I never had any dreams of being a farmer. Apparently, it wasn’t high on Orgath’s list either, because he didn’t have a goat until two days ago when he went to trade and came home with one.
The Orc Wife Page 6
