Page 23 of Orc Me, Maybe

I laugh, but it’s not as sharp as usual. “I’m a mess.”

“You’remymess right now.”

That stops me cold.

He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look away. Just sits there, waiting for me to catch up.

“I’m not yours,” I say, breath catching slightly.

“No,” he says, softer now. “But I’m thinking maybe I want you to be.”

And the silence after that… It’s electric.

My heart stutters. My skin buzzes. I lean forward before I think better of it. He meets me halfway, slow, deliberate, eyes dropping to my mouth—and for one perfect second, the air between us cracks with possibility.

He smells like cedar and wet pine and something warmer. Something steadier. I want to touch his jaw, feel the rough line of it beneath my fingers, trace the edge of something that might, just might, be tender under all that stone.

His hand brushes my cheek, fingers barely grazing skin, and I forget how to breathe.

knock knock knock

We freeze.

The door rattles. The storm wails.

Then comes the small, unmistakable voice: “Daddy?”

Torack pulls back instantly. Not harsh, but fast. Like he’s yanked back to earth.

I stand too quickly, blanket slumping off my shoulders, pulse still roaring in my ears.

“It’s okay, Lil!” I call, voice too bright. “Come in!”

The door creaks open and there she is—Lillian, tiny and disheveled, pajama-clad and clutching her pillow like a shield.

“There’s a bug in my cabin,” she says, voice grave. “It had eyes on itsknees.”

Torack moves. Gentle now. Steady. “I’ll check it.”

Lillian grabs his hand without hesitation. “And it hissed at me.”

He looks back at me—one beat, one breath—then disappears into the night, her small frame tucked close to his.

I sit back down, fingers trembling, heartbeat refusing to settle.

So close.

So nearly.

Almost.

And now I’m just sitting here in the dark, a storm still raging, wrapped in a blanket and wishing I hadn’t closed my eyes quite so soon.

CHAPTER 10

TORACK

Iwake up before the sun, like always, but this time it’s not from habit that kicks me out of bed—it’s that gnawing feeling under my ribs. Like something’s unfinished. Or maybe wrecked.

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