Page 18 of Romancing the Orc

“We need a way off the island,” Lara says in between bites. “How did you say we got here?”

“They have a plane, one that can go straight up and down instead of needing a runway.”

“I can’t fly a plane. Can you?”

“No.” As soon as the talent agent took me to an apartment and turned on the TV, I’ve used it to learn many things about the human world, but nothing like flying an aircraft.

“What about a boat? There could be boats.”

“I don’t think so.” I shake my head. “When the plane flew in, I didn’t see any signs of habitation other than the camp.”

“Elton did say this island only appeared a couple of months ago, and that he bought it.” Her shoulders slump. “There’s probably no one else here but his people.”

“It’s an island from a realm of Faerie,” I say. If it’s only been here a few months, I imagine it arrived when I did—when the doors of Faerie were thrown open.

She shoots me a dubious look but doesn’t argue. “He brought me here because he says he found something in the center ofthe island, a building with walls covered in the language you call High Fae. I didn’t get a chance to read the pictures he took, but I grabbed them.”

My mate pulls several photographs from the journal and fans them across her thighs. “Maybe if we get some idea of what he’s found, we’ll know if it’s something we can use to get off the island. It at least might offer us a bargaining chip to make him take us home.” She starts rearranging the photos. “God, they’re a jumbled mess. This is going to take forever.”

I place a hand over hers, halting her frantic motions. “We’ll head for the building, and you can work on that in the evenings.”

“Evenings, as in plural? I thought this was a small island.”

“It is, but walking through the jungle isn’t fast.” Especially not when moving at the speed of a human. “It’s going to take several days.” Humans use cars and planes and subways too much. They have no feel for what distances truly mean any more.

“Okay. Get to the building. I’ll make that number one on my list.” My mate tucks the leather journal back inside her clothing, giving me another teasing glimpse of her breasts encased in lingerie.

My mouth waters.

I have a few things I’d like to add to this list of hers.

CHAPTER NINE

Lara

Item number one: Get to the ruins in the center of the island.

Number one on my list might be the simplest to say, but it sure isn’t easy to do. I walk about as much as most New Yorkers, which is mostly done in short bursts of going a few blocks to and from various subway stations.

That’s seriously different from an all-day slog, and through jungle, no less!

But for all the new activity I’m putting my body through, my brain doesn’t have anything to think about.

Besides Brokk. The way his wide shoulders ripple as he moves undergrowth aside for me. The way he always makes sure I eat and drink first. The way he held me this morning when I woke up sprawled across him,literallydrooling on his chest.

My hands fly up. How am I supposed to process any of this?

Shit! Raising my hands makes the catsuit wedgie in front and back. I yank at it, trying to keep the thing from getting to third base. If anyone’s getting that close to my hoohaa around here, I want it to be Brokk.

I can’t keep lying to myself. I want him. I don’t care if he’s green. No, wait. That’s a lie. I want him even more because he’s green. I’m no longer as bothered about him pretending to be an orc, because I’m convinced he’s really taken on that identity—he believes he’s an orc and acts like it. And being an orc warrior? Let’s just say there are alotof shittier things a guy could be, like a rich asshole who kidnaps people.

Plus, a tiny part of me wants to believe Brokk’s not lying. That Faerie is real, that this language I suddenly know is actually High Fae, that I’m a witch with magic. And if all of that’s true, then…

Brokk might really be an orc.

I suck in a breath, my heart skipping as I take in his wide back and seven feet of height. God, he’s taller than that Mountain guy fromGame of Thrones!

He puts his size to good use, forging a trail for me. We follow the valley, Brokk somehow knowing in which direction to go to reach the center of the island. Every type of palm I’ve ever seen mixes in with plants I didn’t realize existed in the jungle, like little fern trees. The forest around my hometown, Ferndale Falls, has lots of ferns, but they’re the ground-hugging kind instead. The jungle also drips with numerous vines, some covered in huge, colorful blossoms the size of dinner plates.

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