Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
“My name is Nunnya,” I hiss, letting my hands dance on the hard muscles of his back, my mouth watering as my touch seems to ignite an immediate rush of heat on his skin.
“This is a nice name. Nunnya.” He grumbles as low voices from ahead filter through the trees. “I have not heard this name before for humans.”
“Yeah, really?”
“Yes, what is your family name. Nunnya…what?”
“Nunnya business. Now…” I slam my clenched fist into his butt again. “Put.” Pound. “Me.” Pound, pound. “Down.”
I kick and curse and punch until I’m out of breath, then huff out a string of obscenities.
“Ah, now I understand. You are a lacdol. Or, in human words, a brat. With a…what do they call it? Trash mouth.” He says as we break through the trees into an open camp with several fires burning and crude but well-built orc structures fanning out into the distance. “Let’s try this again. I am Mol, and your name is…”
“Lacdol.” I say as the weight and grip of his hand releases from my rear and I realize this is my chance. I buck and push off but the sting of a hard slap on my ass blinds me, making me yelp and wince. “Oww, Jesus. That hurt.”
“I am not Jesus. I am Mol. You will tell me your name.”
“I’m not telling you anything and don’t spank me again or…”
Swat. Hot needles prickle my skin as the second slap explodes on top of the first.
“Or you will what? You act like a child; I treat you like a child.” He grunts, the knot of tension in my belly coiling tighter. “Your body knows what your mind fights.” He turns his head toward me, taking a long inhale. “Your scent tells me what I need to know.”
I’m getting my head wrapped around that last bit when he scoops his hand around my waist, lowering me to the ground facing him.
His muscles ripple under his ravaged flesh and I see decades of anger written in his eyes. I let my head fall back looking up, taking in the monolithic size of him. Yet, I’m not scared. He’s no threat to me, I know it, I feel it. Even so, being scooped up by an orc and carried back to his camp has me a bit on edge. The tapping of my quickened heartbeat reminds me of something else I’m feeling.
The sculpted abs at my eye level and a chest so broad I could curl up and sleep are…yes, I’ll just say it.
Sexy.
Drop. Dead. Orc. Sexy.
He’s staring at me as the other orcs move away and I swallow hard, unsure of what’s next. The urge to run does battle with another urge, which is to hurl myself at him.
His tusks dig into his upper lip as he rumbles under each breath. His eyes roam up and down my body, my mouth dry, wondering what he’s waiting for.
“You do not trust me. But, you will. Since you will not tell me your name, I will name you. You are Selthe. This means fierce bird in my native language. It fits you.”
Heat rages over my skin. “Yes, it does fit me,” I manage as his red eyes soften.
“You will be here now.” He runs a hand over his head. His deep brown hair in the traditional orc twisted dreadlocks, secured at the base of his neck with a red and silver leather band which I know means he’s some sort of leader here.
Glancing around, male orcs eye me with suspicion, but Mol growls, shooting glares to the surrounding crowd that clearly say get the fuck back or else. The camp is well thought out. Firepits burn at the center of surrounding structures. A wooden water tower rises against the night sky which means, they may have running water.
“Thank you for helping me. Earlier.” I decide to on a different approach. Maybe softening him up will lower his guard and I can make a break for it. “I’m sorry if I was…ungrateful. But, my bus is my home, my business, and I have friends at the festival.”
“You do not worry anymore. I am Mol, I am here to protect, to make sure you are safe. And…happy.”
He says the last word like it’s new to him. His jaw flexes, and the greenish glow coming from under his kilt draws my eye. He sees me looking and does nothing to explain or turn away. Instead, there’s a pulse under the leather, a movement.
What in the level ten crazy is going on under there?
Still, even with all the unknowns right now, all these years on my own, I have a sixth sense about danger and right now, against all logic, I feel safe.
Safer than I have in a long, long time. I’ll stay here for now. But, once I get a chance, I’ll be gone. I’ll get back to the bus and head west. I take a deep breath, and Mol looks like he’s in pain. There’s a darkness in his eyes like he’s been wounded one too many times and there’s no more healing left to do.