Page 5 of Vexing the Grumpy Orc

His hands clenched at his sides. “Tell me what ‘truth’ you seek in my woods first.”

I turned away, desperate to salvage what I could of the ritual. His hand snapped out, fingers circling my wrist and yanking me back. I shoved against his chest, but he just used the momentum to pull me closer.

“None of your business.” I twisted in his grip, only to find myself pressed fully against him. Heat radiated through his thin shirt, and goddess, I could feel every ridge of muscle. “Let go.”

“My territory makes it my business.” His free hand slid into my hair, forcing me to meet his burning gaze. “Tell me what you’re hiding, witch.”

I tried to wrench away, but he just tightened his hold. My pulse hammered where his fingers pressed against my wrist. The magic swirled tighter, hotter, until I couldn’t tell if it was the ritual or my own desperate need making me arch against the thigh pressed between mine.

“Make me.”

I surged up, meaning to headbutt him or bite him or something equally violent. Instead, my mouth crashed against his. His growl vibrated through my chest as he hauled me impossibly closer. I grabbed hisshirt, intending to push him away. My fingers curled into the fabric instead, dragging him down to deepen the kiss.

He tasted like mountain air and fury. Like every bad decision I’d ever wanted to make. His tusks scraped my lower lip, sending shivers down my spine. I bit him in retaliation, earning another growl that made heat pool low in my belly.

“I hate witches,” he snarled against my mouth.

I yanked his hair, forcing his head back. “I hate territorial assholes.”

His hands slid to my hips, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. Good. I wanted the marks. Wanted proof that this was real and not just some fever dream brought on by magical backlash.

“Then why are you here?” He nipped along my jaw, the scrape of his tusks sending shivers down my spine. “What’s so important you’d risk pissing me off?”

My ritual circle pulsed around us, the magic demanding more. Closer. Deeper. Even through layers of denim, I felt how hard he was. How much he wanted this, no matter what bullshit came out of his mouth.

Fuck. I needed... I needed to focus. To remember why I was here. What was at stake.

“My familiar.” The words tumbled out as he mouthed down my throat. “I need to save him.” I gasped as his teeth found my pulse point. “He’s cursed.”

The orc stilled, pulling back just far enough to meetmy gaze. Suspicion warred with curiosity in those dark eyes. “A curse?”

“Digby took a gorgon’s blast meant for me.” My fingers were still tangled in his hair. I couldn’t seem to let go. “He saved my life and got turned to stone for his trouble.”

Understanding flickered through his dark eyes. Then determination. His mouth crashed back to mine, and this time there was nothing gentle about it. Need clawed through me, fed by the ritual’s wild magic and my own desperate hunger.

I owed Digby everything. My life. My sanity. My one true friend who’d never asked for anything in return. I would break this curse. I would save him.

But right now, with this infuriating orc’s hands branded on my skin and his taste on my tongue, all I could think about was how much I wanted him to never stop kissing me like this.

The magic pulsed again, and we both groaned as another wave of heat rolled through us. I shoved at his shirt, desperate to feel skin. To ground myself in something real before I lost myself completely in the maelstrom.

He released me just long enough for me to rip the offending fabric over his head. I caught a glimpse of tattoos curling around his powerful arms, then his hands were on me again, one wrapping around my throat—not squeezing, just holding. Possessive. Theother slid under my sweater, calloused fingers dragging across my ribs.

“Fuck,” he growled against my throat. “You feel...”

I knew exactly what he meant. Every brush of skin on skin sent sparks racing along my nerves. Like my entire body had become one giant livewire, and he was the only thing keeping me from flying apart.

I arched into his touch with a needy whine I barely recognized as my own. “More.”

He hesitated for half a heartbeat. Then his thumb brushed my nipple through my bra, and holy fuck, the size difference. His hand nearly spanned my entire ribcage.

“You like that?” His voice had dropped to a dangerous rumble. “Being manhandled by a monster?”

I bit his lower lip. Hard. “You’re not nearly monstrous enough yet.”

Something dark and hungry flashed in his eyes. He shoved my shirt up, exposing my breasts to the cool night air. The lace of my bra did nothing to hide how my nipples had hardened into tight peaks.

“Pretty.” He traced one peak with his thumb. “Delicate.” His fingers closed around my breast, squeezing just shy of pain. “Breakable.”

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