Page 17 of Vexing the Grumpy Orc

“But Digby did.” Pride and pain warred in her voice. “He appeared between us, took the full blast. Saved mylife and got turned to stone for his trouble.” Her laugh held no humor. “Then the hospital fired me because their policy forbids familiars in the workplace. Said I should have left him at home where he belonged.”

“They what?” The words came out as a growl.

“Apparently his presence created ‘liability issues.’” She spat the words like poison. “Never mind that he saved my life. Never mind that I’d worked there for years without incident. Policy is policy.”

The rage in her voice matched the fury building in my chest. No wonder she’d defended the clan so fiercely to that prick doctor. She knew exactly how it felt to be treated like shit on a shoe.

“Your familiar showed honor.” The words felt inadequate, but her eyes snapped to mine. “Protecting the innocent deserves respect. That kind of loyalty... it matters.”

Not the twisted version of loyalty my father demanded—blind obedience to tradition and hatred. But the pure, unflinching courage that drives someone to stand between danger and those who need protection, regardless of the cost.

Something shifted in her expression. Not quite trust, but... consideration. “That’s unexpectedly decent of you.”

“I can be decent.” When I wasn’t letting prejudice and old wounds and my fucking shitbag of a father cloud my judgment. “Sometimes.”

“Sometimes.” A ghost of a smile touched her lips.

The morning mist curled around us, carrying her scent. Winter frost and mint. Clean. Pure. Nothing like the tainted magic I’d been raised to fear.

She broke eye contact first. “So. Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.” I latched onto the change of subject. “Just try not to do anything too witchy before then.”

“Try not to stalk any other witches.” She lifted her mug in mock salute. “You’re terrible at it.”

I started down the path, shooting her a glare over my shoulder. There was less heat in it than before, and her answering smirk held more amusement than mockery.

“Galan?”

I paused at the property line.

“Thank you. For speaking up about the wards.”

Something warm unfurled in my chest. I grunted and turned away before she could see it on my face.

It would be easier if I could hate her the way my father wanted me to. If I could see her as nothing but a witch to be feared and despised.

But her scent followed me down the path. It would probably follow me all the way back to Grimstone. Back to my empty cabin, because I couldn’t face my father’s cave again so soon. Back to my own bed where memories of pale skin and hungry moans waited in the dark.

Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

And I refused to examine why that thought pleased me so much.

CHAPTER SIX

HANNAH

Istretched over a fallen log, fingers straining for the perfect purple cap nestled against its base. My jeans caught on rough bark as I reached, but I wasn’t about to let a single shadow cap escape. Not when Digby’s freedom hung in the balance.

“Got you, you little bastard.” I plucked the mushroom and added it to my basket, already half-full with the glowing caps.

The late afternoon sun filtered through the canopy, casting dappled shadows across the stream bank. Perfect mushroom-hunting weather. Not that I’d have cared if it was pouring rain or blizzarding—I’d crawl through hell on my knees if it meant getting Digby back.

My babysitter leaned against a nearby tree with his muscled arms crossed, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. I’d caught him watching me at least sixtimes in the past hour, his dark eyes tracking my movements with an intensity that made my skin prickle. Not entirely unpleasantly.

“You know,” I said, straightening and brushing dirt from my knees, “when you said you knew where to find shadow caps, I expected door-to-circle service. Not a nature hike.”

Galan’s mouth twitched. Not quite a smile, but close enough to count as progress. “You’d miss all the fun of digging through mud.”

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