Page 22 of The Orc and the Innkeeper

I smile, warmth blooming in my chest. There’s hope for Kingsley yet. If he can open his mind to the magic and wonder of Elderberry Falls, who knows what the future might hold?

As we approach the doors of Orc’s Anvil, I take a steadying breath, my nerves buzzing with anticipation. This is it—the moment of truth. Thorak’s tour might be enough to seal the deal and secure Kingsley’s investment.

And if it means spending more time in close proximity to the orc who once tormented me, well...I’ll just have to find a way to keep my traitorous mind in check.

Easier said than done, especially when the heat of our kiss at the monster market still lingers on my lips…and other places.

With a final glance at Kingsley, I push open the heavy oak doors. As we step inside, the rich aroma of hops and malt greets us, mingling with the faint scent of wood smoke from the massive stone fireplace.

There, standing before us, is Thorak, looking every inch the confident, capable business owner in a tailored suit that hugs his muscular frame in all the right places.

“Robert, Mariah, welcome to Orc’s Anvil,” Thorak greets us, his deep, resonant voice sending a traitorous shiver down my spine.

His eyes meet mine for a brief moment, and I swear I see a flicker of something there—amusement, perhaps, or maybe even a hint of the same attraction that I’m desperately trying to ignore.

Thorak leads us through the brewery, pointing out the gleaming fermentation tanks and rows of oak barrels. I trail behind, trying to pay attention to his words rather than how his broad shoulders fill out his suit jacket.

It’s a losing battle, though, especially when he starts talking about the intricacies of the brewing process, his love of his craft evident in every word.

He’s just so fucking…competent. Watching a smart man confidently in his element does something to my insides that should be illegal.

“We use only the finest ingredients,” Thorak explains to Kingsley, gesturing to a display of plump, fragrant hops. “And our water comes from an enchanted spring deep in the forest, imbuing each batch with a touch of magic.”

We move on to the tasting room, where gleaming pint glasses await. I find myself drawn into the conversation, offering my own insights from a human perspective.

“The way Thorak has incorporated magical elements into the brewing process is really innovative,” I tell Kingsley, genuinely meaning it. “It’s the kind of thing that could really set Orc’s Anvil apart in the market.”

Thorak flashes me a grin, his tusks glinting in the warm light. “Exactly. We’re not just another brewery—we’re creating something unique, something that celebrates the best of both the magical and human worlds.”

He launches into his vision for the future of Orc’s Anvil, his deep voice resonating with authority. It’s like watching a master craftsman at work, each word carefully chosen, each gesture perfectly calculated to showcase his expertise.

And I can’t ignore the heat that pools in my belly every time his eyes meet mine, the way my heart races when he leans in close to emphasize a point. It’s maddening, this attraction to the guy who once made my life hell.

I know I should be focused on the tour, on making sure Kingsley is sufficiently impressed, but all I can think about is the way Thorak’s lips might feel against mine again, the way his strong hands might touch me. What would it be like to have his thick body sliding against mine?

I swallow hard, trying to pull myself together.

As the tour comes to an end, I stand beside Thorak as Kingsley turns to us, his gaze inscrutable.

“You talk a good game, Thorak,” Kingsley says, holding out his hand to shake Thorak’s. “I’m impressed by what I saw here and your vision for the place.”

My breath hitches. Did we manage to convince him?

“But,” he continues, and my heart sinks. “The most important thing is going to be how consumers approach yourgoods. I’d like to come see this taproom in action soon and observe reactions in real time. Can that be arranged?”

Thorak nods, totally unfazed by Kingsley’s request. “Of course. We’re closed today but you should come by tomorrow night.”

“Will do. I suppose we should be heading back to the inn,” Kingsley says. He turns to me. “Mariah, you’re coming, I presume?”

I nod, ready to accompany him, but before I can take a step, Thorak’s arm snakes around my waist, pulling me close against his muscular frame. I gasp, my body immediately responding to his touch, despite my best efforts to maintain a professional demeanor.

“Actually,” Thorak says, his deep voice rumbling through me, “would you mind if Mariah stayed behind for a moment? There’s something I wanted to discuss with her about, uh, our upcoming wedding.”

I try not to snort, even as I glance down at the big engagement ring on my finger. It’s a good lie, I suppose.

But what does he want to talk about?

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