Page 1 of One Stolen Night with Her Orc

Prologue

Ahundred years ago, there was a monster migration, many went west, but a few felt the call of the wild northeast and headed to the cozy, quaint island of Wolf’s Ridge, named after the formidable mountains on the island, and founded the town of Moonfang Haven. Perhaps the island felt reminiscent of simpler, more magical times—lush, deep forests, craggy cliffs, a glittering unspoilt ocean teeming with life, and a protected valley perfect for a town. Or perhaps the blazing western sun wasn’t something the Cragbeard, Suthorn, Fangst, Havet families and others were interested in.

I was here when they arrived. Watched as they set up a new life for themselves, amongst the small human population already carving out a living, mostly by fishing, on my beloved island. They’ve integrated peacefully, minus a few hiccups. I think the wild goats of the mountains still resent the surprisingly nimble orcs invading their mountain.

Don’t worry, magic still exists, though it’s been diminished over time. My granny told me the formula once...time multiplied by disbelief divided by the square root of love...maybe? I don’t remember. Math was never my strong suit.

Who am I? My story is of less importance right now, but I will say I was banished to Wolf’s Ridge a long time ago. My magic has been reduced mostly to simple potions. One day, I’ll have my comeback tour and everyone will remember my name. But until then, I’ll be mixing macchiatos at Moonlit Grounds Café and Bakery.

Chapter 1

Koru

Ablast of arctic springair fills the bar as the door flies opens, then stays open. “Shut the door,” I growl, not bothering to turn around from admiring my golden trophy stein gleaming in the firelight. The number of times people open the door and then freeze, like they’ve never seen an orc before, is absurd. The name is on the sign outside: Stone Barrel Brewery—Orc Crafted Artisan Beer. It’s not like I made it a secret.

Still, I know that giant, burly, tusked, green creatures can be intimidating. Sighing, I turn around to blast the person who can’t get out of the doorway. Spring is a myth here in Moonfang Haven. There’s ice everywhere—though dangerously thin in places. Tonight’s storm will only bring more ice. The cold doesn’t bother orcs, but I’m tired of the ice and mud thaw cycle; it puts me in a bad mood. My brother, Bjorn, has already rankled me today, and I’m in no mood to comfort pitiful humans.

The person in the doorway is barely visible under their layers of coats, scarves, and hats, but judging by the curve of hip and thigh, it’s a female. My first sniff confirms this—lilac and honey. My second sniff tells me she’s afraid, but not of me. She’s young, fragile, and her gloved hand on the door trembles. Her scent and posture awaken something in me I’ve never felt. Something primal and all-consuming. Snorting out her scent like a sneeze, I try to compose myself.

Everyone is deep in their cups and games; no one pays her any attention. Out of the corner of my eye, Bjorn rises off his stool, concerned eyes on her. Of all the tomfoolery, no. That can’t happen—no matter that he is a trained first responder with search and rescue. Instinct overtakes me, and I leap over the table standing between me and the door. In two more steps, I shove Bjorn out of the way, ignore his shout of indignation, and scoop her up and into the brewery. A quick sniff outside to make sure no one has followed her and I slam the door. The feel of her, even beneath all her layers, is satisfying, comforting. I’ve just found the puzzle piece that’s been missing my whole life.

“What the hell!” Bjorn booms at me. There’s fire in his eyes; my brother is always ready for a fight. I shake my head and look down at the delicate flower in my arm.

“She’s fainted,” I whisper to Bjorn. I don’t have time, or the desire to play big brother tonight. If he’s angry, he knows where the door is.

“Do you think she needs medical assistance?” I can hear the shift in his voice from irritation to eagerness. He wants to touch her; use all that search and rescue training he’s got. But she’s mine now. Shaking my head, I carry her to a booth and lay her gently down. The chatter of the patrons fades to the background. All my focus and senses are on her.

Bjorn is at my side, a small glass of water in his filthy paw. “Do you think we scared her?” he asks. I shake my head as I gently brush away the dark brown hair from her round, perfect face. She’s stunning.

“Something else scared her. The scent was there before she came inside.”

Her black eyes flutter open, look straight into mine. She doesn’t gasp or draw back in fear. Instead, she smiles weakly, melting away all the ice in the Arctic Circle and causing sea levels to rise catastrophically. I’ll gladly take all the devastation in order to have her smile at me like that again, preferably every day.

“I made it. You’ll keep me safe,” she says, almost a whisper. My pride grows at those words. Of course I’ll keep my flower safe. Her eyelids flutter shut; she’s unconscious again.

Bjorn and I look at each other. He shrugs, “You wanted her. You can deal with whatever drama that is. Good luck.” He gathers his stuff and leaves me alone with the woman I’m inexplicably drawn to. The woman who seems to know without a doubt that I’ll keep her safe.

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