Trick or Orc: A Monsterly Yours Romance

by S. J. Sanders

  “Sorceress,” I pant, staring down at her.

  “Later, perhaps,” she whispers. “The tart is delicious, by the way… almost as tasty as the orc.”

  She gives me a naughty smile that makes all my blood flee from my brain in anticipation of whatever game she plans for us to play. It rouses every part of my primitive nature, and I hear my lustful growl before I’m even aware that I’m making it.

  Her breathy laughter is all that drags me from the brink, and I watch her bottom sway as she walks back to her station. The flirtatious smile that she tosses over her shoulder to me once she gets there has me ready to kidnap her and carry her away from the café to have my way with her. Common sense, unfortunately intervenes when the timer that Lynn procured for me goes off, reminding me to take the next batch out.

  I’m debating on what other provocative treat I might lure my mate with when I scent Chris in the shop. Because I’m in the process of claiming his mother, the scent of any of her offspring will now draw my attention as keenly as hers does. It is a useful skill that helps a male protect his family, although Chris might not find that skill particularly enjoyable. I’m about to go out and investigate to make sure he’s not keeping bad company or up to any mischief again when I hear a familiar, and quite annoyed, feminine voice.

  I peek out the kitchen and door and grin when I see Orgath’s daughter. A year older than Chris, she is also quite a bit taller and will be until the male hits another growth spurt. Despite being every inch an orc, I can see Sammi in her, not only in her reddish-blond curls but in the way her blue eyes narrow on the hapless male looking up at her from where he stands at her elbow. Smitten, I would guess.

  Since he is not blood kin, I approve the match, especially if a bloodbond arises. The influx of new blood into our clan is good for us, despite what some of the naysayers think who are listening too closely to the tongues of isolationist clans. I do hope that Chris at least has enough sense to remain respectful with the chieftain’s eldest daughter so that Orgath doesn’t attempt to gut him. I am quite fond of my cousin and would hate to go up against him to keep my mate’s offspring in one piece.

  “I told you not to get mixed up with those two!” Ferona snaps waspishly. “Now Avari and Davith are both complaining to anyone who’ll listen and trying to pin it all on you.”

  “They’re the only males who’ve invited me to hang out with them,” Chris replies sullenly only to let out a surprised wheeze when Ferona wraps an arm around him and tugs him against her side with a bit more strength than she planned to use, I wager.

  She immediately loosens her grip with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Chris.”

  “It’s good,” he wheezes admirably.

  She shakes her head, a broad smile spreading across her face. “Look, don’t worry about it. As I told you before, just stick with me. No one’s going to listen much to those two because we all know what they’re like. Everyone in my circle of friends likes you. The others will come around in their own good time.”

  “Your circle of friends is mostly girls,” Chris points out.

  Her smile widens. “A good thing for you too because they all think you’re cute, despite being a bit on the scrawny side. But we know mage-types are like that and there’s already rumors going around that the magus at the Hearthstone is very impressed.”

  I stifle a chuckle as he blinks at her, and then his chest puffs out just a little with male pride.

  “Besides, the guys want to hang out with us. If you’re with us, they’ll be jealous and start gravitating toward you to find out what the secret is.”

  “That I’m cute?” he asks quizzically in such a way that she snorts with laughter.

  “Well, that and you have more interesting things to talk about than your new battleax,” she giggles, inspiring his own smile to emerge.

  The pair of them are so adorable, I can feel my own smile growing.

  “What’s going on?” Kassie whispers at my side, her voice startling me.

  I was so focused on eavesdropping on Chris that I hadn’t heard her approach, although I have noticed that my mate is eerily light on her feet like a delfass.

  “That situation I told you of last night,” I murmur. I immediately feel contrite for not telling my mate earlier. “Chris got caught up in it. I gave him a good talking-to and sent him off to Lynn. I likely embarrassed him a bit in front of his peers, I’m afraid.”

  I’m afraid that my mate will be angry with me. Mothers are protective of their offspring and knowing how a female will react to such news is questionable. To my surprise, she smiles and nods.

  “Good. I hope he’ll learn something from it. Gods know that nothing I ever said made an impression when it came to curbing his antics. If you were able to get through to him, then I definitely owe you one.” At my side, her eyes sparkle with merriment as she watches the pair. “And besides, with that girl praising his interest, I have no doubt he will be studying so much to impress her that he won’t have time for pulling pranks,” she adds with a snicker.

  I nod. “The chieftain’s daughter will be a good influence for him. She is as intelligent as her mother, with her father’s cunning and ruthlessness. She will be a fine chieftain one day.”

  “Chieftain…” Kassie whispers. “Good gods, I certainly hope he minds himself.”

  I chuckle and draw my mate closer to me. “Chris is a good male, and smart despite his lack of common sense when it came to making friends early on. Don’t worry. I believe they will be just fine. It will be a good friendship for both of them,” I assure her, pressing my lips to her brow.

  “You’re right,” she agrees as she grabs a handful of my tunic and apron, pulling back away from the doors. “And since we know that, enough eavesdropping. The quicker the time passes, the sooner I can have you all to myself again.”

  My cock twitches, but it’s my heart that swells with the affection I can feel resonating along our bloodbond.

  Ducking back into the kitchen, we allow the younglings their privacy. There is much work to be done before we can play, and I owe my mate—and my new family—an evening at the carnival.

  Chapter 15

  Kassie

  I don’t know if I’m imagining it, but it seems like Garval’s family has an extra sense that just knows that our relationship went to the next level. I’m not sure what exactly they are picking up on—I just pray that it’s not any lingering smells of sex. I certainly don’t need that kind of embarrassment in my life. Then again, maybe it’s the way I seem to want to plaster myself against him all the time while we’re together. It’s like there is a tether between us now that makes me hyper-aware of him at all times.

  It’s a little intimidating to feel so strongly already for him, and a bit scary at just how easily I can be hurt because of it, but there’s also a magical quality to it. Like we’re truly meant for each other—as crazy as that sounds.

  Still, it is a bit unnerving that Elga pins me with an assessing look the moment she opens her door, her nostrils expanding as she breathes deep. Then she breaks out into a surprisingly wide grin that shows off the delicately carved golden ornaments on her small tusks. I almost wet myself when she lunges for me, but in the next moment all of my breath flees my lungs because she’s yanked me into a bone-crushing hug.

  I look over helplessly at Garval as he chuckles and extricates me from his mother’s enthused embrace.

  “You did not tell me,” she accuses, shaking a finger at Garval as we follow her into the cottage. “I’ve had no time to prepare the feast. And the collar! What about…”

  “Mother, I will speak to you of it… later,” Garval replies, his eyes narrowing on his mother in a way that is clearly meaningful to her given the way she immediately snaps her mouth shut and frowns in disapproval, though she nods.

  Meanwhile, all of this is going completely over my head. Reaching for the only plausible thing that makes sense, since I know that the Halloween carnival intersects with certain holy days for the Orc
clan, I turn to Garval and raise my eyebrows.

  “I’m so sorry. Was your family expecting to do a feast before we enjoy the carnival?”

  Elga gives him a wilting look, though she pats my shoulder in a surprising show of affection.

  “Do not worry about it,” she assures me. “We will arrange for a feast another night. It will better give us some time.” Her expression turns thoughtful. “What are your feelings on facial tattoos and piercings? If you are agreeable to abide by our traditions, I will happily pay a visit to my sister and enlist her service.”

  I gape at her. “That seems a little extreme for seasonal festivities,” I squeak.

  “Right,” she says slowly. “I think I will leave that explanation to my son.” At his stubbornly silent response, she huffs and waves a clawed hand in his direction. “Yes, I know… later,” she snarls as she stalks away toward Matty’s play area.

  Garval strokes a comforting hand down my back as we follow after her. “Do not worry, you never need to feel pressured into doing anything. My mother is just a bit traditional and gets carried away. Lynn would be tattooed and pierced already if she had her way… if not for the younglings growing in her womb.”

  I smile and relax. “She certainly seems a bit set in her ways,” I observe, smiling as I watch her snuggle Matty.

  My son squeals happily, his little hands latching onto her tusks as she presses kisses against his belly. It makes me miss my mother, but I know she was so happy to find out that we were leaving and getting a fresh start. She seemed to believe it was the best thing for me. I haven’t called her through the magic mirror since that first day after our arrival. I make a mental note to do so tomorrow.

  Not only do I want to update Mom on all the good things going on in my life right now, but I also especially want to tell her all about Garval. Considering that she had been the one to suggest I follow Lynn’s example and find myself a “hot orc,” I know she’ll be thrilled.

  There will also be plenty to tell her about regarding the carnival. I know she wants to hear the details about that, since she’d been enamored with hearing about the harvest festival the previous year.

  That feels almost like a lifetime ago.

  I wouldn’t have been able to imagine then my life as it is now. I’m smiling so much that my cheeks ache, but I can’t help it. Garval insists on wearing a leather baby carrier across his chest, one that his mother dug up from somewhere, and the result is an impossible-to-resist happy daddy vibe that also makes me want to cry because I wish I had found out about Jason’s affairs earlier. Then maybe Matty would have had someone like Garval for his father instead. Yet, at the same time, I can’t regret it because I love Matty just as he is and wouldn’t have him any other way.

  Tousling Matty’s pale brown hair, I smile up at my orc and wait patiently for Nora and Chris to gather their things. Only once we are all ready do we finally pile out the door with his mother shouting after us, offering to keep the children again if we need another night to ourselves. I blush brick red but call back a hasty thanks before anything gets even more awkward.

  With a quick stop at home so the kids can drop off their things and everyone can change clothes, Garval rejoins us in record time wearing a fresh tunic dyed an eyepopping red that actually suits him very well and clean breeches. I go for a brown wool skirt and a seasonal russet-orange off-the-shoulder shirt that puts me in a particularly festive mood, especially with the orange scarf tying back my unruly curls. It is not exactly a fashionable look, but I feel like the most beautiful person in the world with the way that Garval’s eyes widen with appreciation the moment he sees me. I almost regret it when I cover the ensemble with a matching brown wool coat, except that the desire in Garval’s eyes doesn’t lessen even the tiniest amount when I do.

  Surprisingly, even Chris has put in special care with his appearance. His hair is combed back and the curls styled with a bit of grease to keep them in place, his jeans impeccably clean, and instead of one of his black band shirts, he’s actually wearing a simple royal blue tunic, mingling both human and orcish styles in an impressively flawless fashion. I have little doubt who all the effort is for, and I don’t even try to restrain my smile when he carefully checks himself over. That doesn’t stop him from blushing and rolling his eyes at me when he notices.

  “It’s no big thing,” he mumbles.

  I hum in agreement but decide to be merciful on the child and opt to say nothing in reply as I take Nora’s hand. Not that I miss the smile Garval gives him that has the opposite effect and makes Chris brighten and thrust out his chest a bit more as he struts behind us.

  By the time we make our way to the village center, the weather has cooled noticeably, making me grateful that I insisted we all wear jackets—all except Garval, who doesn’t seem to be as easily affected by the cold as we are. The scattered leaves among the cool breeze and the cheerful scene of autumn displays set up in the square around the carnival, along with the smell of hot apple cider, brings a warm and homey atmosphere. Despite the simple lifestyle, the village is becoming more and more every day to feel like home to me, and nothing emphasizes that more to me than this moment right now. Especially when my mate stops at a nearby table at the square entrance and buys cups of hot cider for all of us to enjoy.

  Wonderfully fragrant with the notes of honey sweetener, cinnamon, and pressed apples, the sweet and tart drink warms both my mouth and stomach as we sit on a nearby bench, one of many set up in the area, sipping it as we people-watch.

  Although we still have a few hours before the sun starts to sink, the square is a riot of color and activity. Torches have been set up and are already burning, as is one carefully watched bonfire in the center. Locals dress up and perform, as they have every night this week, earning coin from tourists dressed in all manner of clothes and costumes. I also feel some sympathy for some of the girls running around in skimpy costumes with nothing at all to protect them from the cold, but Garval clearly doesn’t share the sentiment. Instead, he snorts with laughter as they stand shivering, pretending not to be cold. I remember too well what it was like to be young and want to look “cool” or “hot,” so I shush him and get thoroughly kissed for my trouble.

  I can’t say that I mind that sort of disagreement.

  Eventually, we get up and return our mugs, with our thanks, to a nearby bin to be washed. Chris is right at our side as we plunge into the crowd, his eyes anxiously scanning the people pressing in around us. I know when he catches sight of the person he’s looking for because he nearly shoots forward before turning an excited look to me. Over his shoulder, I can see Ferona grinning from ear to ear with a rather stern-looking male just behind her—her father I’m guessing—flanked by a woman with reddish-blonde curly hair sprinkled with threads of gray coming in around her face. The woman waves cheerfully at me while she tries to supervise a small army of small orclings, a greeting which I happily return, thinking it might be nice to get to know more women around here since I’m making this village my home.

  “Mom… uh, Garval… would you guys mind if I walk around the carnival with Ferona and her family?” Chris pleads.

  “He’s welcome to join us!” Ferona’s mother calls out and elbows her mate. He gives her a sour look but nods his agreement.

  “Ferona is eager to show her new friend the carnival,” he agrees. “We will make sure they remain supervised and that the male gets home safely this evening.”

  Ferona rolls her eyes like every exasperated teenager ever put on Earth, and I stifle a chuckle.

  “All right, Chris. Since her parents say it’s okay, you can go. Just make sure you’re on your best behavior, and don’t give her parents any grief.”

  Chris leans forward. “Mom, do you see the size of her dad?” he hisses. “He would squash me like a bug and not even think twice about it. I’m not going to do anything to piss him off.”

  The chieftain’s lips quirk, betraying the fact that he heard my son’s not-so-quiet whisper. I pat Chri
s’s cheek lovingly, though, and send him on his way, feeling all the world like my little boy is growing up too fast. That is until Nora tugs on my hand and reminds me that I have other children demanding that we move on. Waving goodbye to Ferona’s family, we continue on our way, music and delicious scents surrounding us in a chaos of entertainment.

  One thing I notice immediately is just how much the orcs enjoy the whole creepy clown aspect of Halloween. In fact, they take it even further. Although not so scary as to traumatize children, they add touches of the morbid in artistic ways, some going as far as having a completely skull-like face grinning with mirth. I know that Halloween more or less overlaps with the orcs’ festival of the dead, so it makes sense to see aspects of it coming forth through the carnival. There’s even a vendor selling hard candy treats called ancestors’ bones that remind me vaguely of something I’ve heard of made in Italy around this time of the year. Many treats are bought and eaten, enough that I worry about Nora being on a continuous sugar high even after Matty slumps sound asleep and we take a minute to adjust the carrier so that he can sleep more comfortably against Garval’s chest.

  Matty misses most of the fun, but Nora practically drags us along after her as she races from one display to another. At some point, she sandwiches herself between Garval and I, taking our hands in each of hers as we walk together, making her all the more effective at tugging us in whatever direction she wants to go. The troupe of troll fire eaters and dancers who have come to perform captivate her more than anything else, each of them resplendent in fine velvet tunics dyed in hues of burgundy, royal blue, plum purple, and midnight black. I want to cover her eyes at the same time because of how tight their pants fit them, but to my relief she doesn’t look too closely at them. She is entranced by the fireplay itself, clapping her hands at the spectacles of whirling and billowing bursts of flames.