Page 3 of Romancing the Orc

“Memorized my list.” I tap my temple. My phone’s back in the dressing room, where it won’t spoil the lines of the clingy catsuit.

“And if you get stuck on anything…”

“I’ll make a dick joke.” I grin over at her. “Amonsterdick joke.” I have a list of them, too.

“Perfect.” She smiles back and waves me to a stop right beside the curtain. “I’ll go tell Brokk to keep his shirt on.”

“Thank you.”

The second word is drowned out by the amplified voice of the interviewer. “Hello, Miami Monster Mash! Are you ladies ready to turn up the heat on this thing?”

A crowd of screams breaks out, and I gulp. Just how many people are out there? I’m not exactly the greatest in front of an audience.

“You know her for her Once You Do a Demon series, full of incubus heat. But you go absolutely feral for her new spicy orc romances in the How to Woo a Fae Orc series, starring the delicious Grinthar. Here she is, Lara Jade!”

My stomach does a flip, but I suck in a breath and march out onto the stage, squinting as a hundred camera flashes add to the brightness of the spotlights. I can’t see a damned thing.

The heel of one of my shoes catches on an obstruction, and I lurch forward with a gasp. I teeter for a second, pinwheeling my arms to try to regain my balance. I almost have it, but the unfamiliar heels throw me off.

Oh, no. No, no, no. Two seconds on stage, and I’ve already ruined one of the items on my list! That’s a new record, even for me.

I overcorrect and pitch backward, heart pounding—

Strong arms snatch me from the air and crush me to a solid wall of muscle.

I suck in a startled breath, breathing in the scent of male and leather and pine.

“Lara Jade.” A deep voice vibrates through my body where we’re pressed together in a tango dip. A voice that makes my heart skip.

Brokk’s voice.

I blink up at the most gorgeous face I’ve ever seen, the green and tusked face of an orc.

CHAPTER TWO

Brokk

The woman’s scent strikes me before her body even touches mine, sweet and intoxicating. I catch her to me before she can fall, my eager arms wrapping around her.

I know beyond a doubt it’sherscent that’s haunted me these past few months, her scent that lingered in the photographer’s studio.

I was new to this world and did not yet understand its ways or how to explain why I needed to know the name and address of every woman who’d ever entered that studio. People grew more upset the more times I said, “I must claim her. She is mine.”

I almost lost my new job that day until one of the publishing interns chuckled and complimented me for staying“in character” as a possessive orc. Everyone laughed, and I let the matter drop.

But I never forgot her intoxicating scent, and I’ve learned much since then about how humans woo in this strange new world.

“Lara Jade,” I growl, recognizing her from her publicity photo. Of course my perfect woman is her, the author whose books might be fiction but which capture the true warrior spirit of orcs.

She blinks up at me, all big brown eyes and a stunned expression on her lovely face. Then her light-tan skin flushes almost as pink as her clothing.

It’s delightful.

I wonder what it would take to get her to turn such a rosy color due to pleasure.

Her hands on my chest make me want to rip my shirt off so I can feel her touch on my skin. Other human women certainly like it when I take off my shirt … sometimes.

Humans are puzzling and contradictory. They don’t have communal baths and forbid full nudity in public. Yet at the same time, whenever I meet several of them at a romance gathering, they always demand I take off my shirt. Male, female, or gender fluid, it matters little which—they all join in and chant for me to do it, with the women always the loudest.

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