Page 14 of Vexing the Grumpy Orc

The irony burned worse than the flames. Decades of lectures about tradition. And all those lessons about honor. All those words on respect. He didn’t believe a damn word of it. Not even when his own blood stood between him and his desires. For power. For dead humans.

The jar turned in his hands, revealing the partially removed label. Brewed Awakening. Miranda’s shop.

Shit.

“What is this?” He thrust the jar in my face. “Witch poison! You bring that filth into my home?”

“It’s just salt and herbs?—”

He hurled the jar into the fire. Glass shattered, herbs igniting with a hiss.

“Fromhershop!” He knocked the cooking stick from my hands, sending the fish into the flames. “You think I don’t know where that comes from? That witch cunt’s store!”

Before I could stop him, he grabbed the basket of cleaned fish and dumped the entire contents into the flames.

“Fucking hell!” I lunged forward, trying to save at least one. “That was dinner!”

“Better starve than be bewitched.” His eyes burned with the same fanatical light I’d seen when he’d swung that ax at Osen. “Is that what happened? Did you eat her food and let her enchant you? Is that why you’re defending a witch?”

The accusation hit too close to the truth. Not that I’d eaten anything she’d offered—but that I’d fallen under her spell all the same. Years of pushing away interested females because they weren’t ‘suitable.’ Because their bloodlines weren’t pure enough. Each rejection had felt like duty, like honor, like protecting the clan’s future. Because Father had someone better in mind—someone who never materialized.

And in one night of magic-fueled madness, I’d thrown it all away on a witch with winter in her scent and fire in her touch.

“You disappoint me, boy. I taught you better than this.” Spittle flew from his lips. “First you let a witch trespass, then you agree to help her, now you bring their filth into my home?—”

“Your home?” I stood, towering over him. “This cave? This is what you chose over the clan. Over your family. And you have the nerve to talk about disappointment?”

“I chose honor!” He jabbed a finger at my chest. “I chose?—”

“I’m done.” I grabbed my pack. “Enjoy your cave.”

“Running errands for your witch masters?” He straightened his clothes with shaking hands. “The Moonclaw clan would never tolerate?—”

“There is no Moonclaw clan.” The words came out sharp and cruel. I could have softened the blow. Should have. But shame and anger churned in my gut—shame for letting the witch’s magic seduce me, anger at still wanting her. At Osen for forcing me to face her again. At my father for making me choose between loyalty and basic decency.

So, I twisted the knife deeper. “No one wants your counsel. No one’s coming for you. You can rot here, and we’ll celebrate each day you don’t ruin our fucking lives.”

His incoherent howl of rage followed me into the gathering dark.

CHAPTER FIVE

GALAN

The box of ornaments and trinkets slipped in my grip, corner catching my knuckles. I swallowed a curse and readjusted, following Torain’s bobbing head through the crowd. His enthusiasm for the weekly Mist & Market circus hadn’t dimmed since he’d opened the new storefront. Mine grew darker with each visit.

Humans scattered from my path like startled deer. Their scents clogged my nose in a dizzying mix of perfumes and foods and whatever else they used to mask their natural odors. The mist rolling off the river didn’t help, turning everything damp and indistinct. Give me the clean mountain air of Grimstone any day over this cramped maze.

But to think it should disappear and erase over a century of shared existence? Or even would? Pure idiocy.

Torain slipped into the clan’s stall ahead, his head dipping immediately to that tiny human mate of his. Carissa. The way she tilted her face back to meet his gaze, eyes full of trust, twisted something in my gut. If anyone touched her, he’d tear them to shreds. Human or orc. Asshole snake shifter or his own father. Didn’t matter.

“You’re sure about the placement of the bowls?” She drummed her fingers inches above the rim of a pair balanced on the front table. “I worry they’ll look out of place.”

“Trust me.” Torain’s voice held that disgustingly besotted tone he got around her. “The grain catches the morning sun just right. Watch.”

He shifted a polished bowl slightly, and sure enough, the wood seemed to glow from within. Carissa’s delighted laugh drew more stares from passing humans, but neither of them noticed.

If Father saw them now, he’d spit curses about clan purity and human weakness. Fucking prick.

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