Page 15 of Charming the Orc's Mate

I moved without thinking. One hand locked around his wrist, squeezing until he released Carissa. The other fisted in his expensive suit jacket.

“You heard the lady.” I lifted him off his feet. The bar went silent except for the scrape of chairs as patrons cleared a path to the door. “Time for you to leave.”

Tate’s feet dangled. His face turned an interesting shade of purple. “You can’t?—”

I could. And did.

The night air felt good against my heated skin as I launched him onto the sidewalk. He sprawled in an undignified heap, suit collecting grime from the concrete.

“Mark my words.” He scrambled up, brushing at his ruined clothes. His eyes locked on Carissa lingering in the doorway of the tavern. “You’ll regret this.”

The threat in his voice made my blood boil. But when I turned back to Carissa, her earlier warmth had been replaced by pale cheeks and rigid control.

“I should go.” She wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Early morning tomorrow.”

“Let me walk you?—”

“No.” The word came too quick, too sharp. She softened it with a forced smile. “Thank you for the drinks. And for... that. But I need some air.”

She fled before I could stop her, leaving only the ghost of cinnamon in her wake. I slumped against the brick wall, the mate bond aching with each step she took away from me.

Tate’s parting shot carried weight. The city council had already denied his permits once. All those delays and redesigns had to be costing him a fortune. He wouldn’t stop without a fight.

And my mate was caught in the crossfire.

CHAPTER FIVE

TORAIN

“That’s a gorgeous inlay pattern.” The woman traced the carved swirls adorning the jewelry box. Her pointed ears marked her as one of the local fae. “How long did it take?”

“Two days for the basic form.” I adjusted the display, showcasing how sunlight caught the copper accents. “Another three for the detailed work.”

“I’ll take it,” she said. She hauled her giant shoulder bag to her front and dug through the contents. “It’s a shame you don’t have a storefront here in town. My sister is visiting soon to plan her bonding ceremony, and I’m sure she’d love to browse.”

“We do have a website. Not much more than hours to find us here, unfortunately.” I tugged a business card out of its holder on the table, then turned to wrap the box in paper and twine.

Mist rolled off the river, wreathing the market stalls in ethereal tendrils and dreamy watercolors. Strings of lights twinkled overhead, more for atmosphere than illumination at this hour. The weekly Mist & Market had barely opened, but already the scents of fresh bread and coffee mingled with herbs from Miranda’s Brewed Awakening.

The clan’s stall drew plenty of admirers, even if they wanted more of our business on their demand. As much as even an online order form would bring us into the current century, the heaping serving of shit Vaninstillgot for leaving Grimstone kept the idea behind sealed lips—and he wasn’t the chief’s brother. Between my position and the elders’ reaction to the website, suggesting a permanent storefront would be like kicking a hornets’ nest. Still, the commissioned pieces brought in good money, when we could fit them around the clan’s traditional projects.

A warm weight pressed against my calf. I glanced down to find Gus weaving figure-eights between my legs, his fluffy tail held high like a banner.

“Gus!” Miranda’s voice drifted from her booth. She didn’t look up from measuring dried herbs into tiny glass vials. “Leave the poor orc alone.”

Gus ignored his witch, rubbing against my boots and purring loud enough to drown out the nearby musicians. His yellow eyes held ancient wisdom. And judgment.

“He clearly wants something.” Miranda leaned over our shared wall of displays, her knowing smirk too similar to her familiar’s expression.

Don’t we all, I thought, memories of Carissa’s lips against mine sending heat through my veins. Her hands in my hair, nails scraping my scalp. The way she’d ground against me, desperate for friction...

Before Tate fucking Gerrard ruined everything.

My hands clenched, remembering the satisfyingthumpas I’d thrown him out. Fucker threatened my mate and her livelihood? A crumpled suit was the least of his worries.

The memory of her horrified retreat made my chest ache. But what were my options? Storm the bookstore? Corner her at thegrocery store? My instincts screamed to claim what was mine, to show her exactly how good we could be together.

But Miranda’s words about taking things slow with humans echoed in my head. Osen and his mate were disgustingly happy and perfectly matched. If listening to her advice got me even a fraction of that kind of contentment with Carissa, I’d gladly suffer through it.

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