Page 1 of Rough Riding Orc Cowboy

Chapter 1

Ruugar

Two Months Ago

The half-wild sorhox shifted, scraping his forearm-long claws on the dirt as I ran a brush along his green-furred hide. This one liked to kick, so I'd secured him to the hitching post in front of the bright red barn, and I watched out not only for his back legs that could kick sideways but his spiked tail that could impale a male if he wasn't paying attention. As long as I remained away from his head, I was relatively safe from his spear-tipped horns. It took time and patience to tame a sorhox, and as a single orc male, I had plenty of the first. I was still working on the latter.

The afternoon sun blazed overhead, baking the wooden boardwalk spanning the front of the long row of buildings of the new tourist destination my six brothersand I had recently completed, Lonesome Creek Ranch. Heat swam around me, and the scent of leather and clawed hoof oil hung in the air. Voices swirled through town, human chatter blending with the creak of stagecoach wheels and the distant clang of my brother’s blacksmith’s hammer. We hadn’t opened for business yet, so the town wasn’t in full swing. But my Aunt Inla was inside the saloon, giving a tour to a human couple who planned to hold their wedding here in a few months, after we’d opened.

A woman's laugh carried on the breeze, soft and sweet.

My hand paused on the sorhox’s hide, and I squinted in that direction, though I didn’t see whoever had laughed. Something in that voice tugged at me and made my heart start kicking against my ribcage.

Halfway down the street, the human couple stepped out of the saloon, my aunt not far behind them. The man was tall, though nowhere near as tall as a six-foot-ten-inch orc. Muscular, though also not as broad as an orc. No human male was. He shot an easy smile at my aunt, his arm wrapped possessively around a woman's back. His bride, then. Her pale blue dress clung to her frame, and her long blonde hair hung loose, catching the light as if it had been crafted by the sun itself. When she laughed this time, it came out a touch too high-pitched. Her shoulders remained stiff. As her smile fell, she dragged her gaze away from the male.

Beth.

I must have heard my aunt say her name over thepast few days. She’d talked a lot about how exciting it was that a couple wanted to get married here at our Wild West tourist destination during our opening week.

Funny how I hadn’t rememberedhisname.

I tightened my fingers on the brush as I tracked their movements down the street. They were walking this way, which made sense. The wedding and reception would be held inside the barn that had been built for functions, not to house animals or store hay.

They came closer.

Why was my pulse thudding so fast?

There was something odd about Beth, but I couldn’t quite give it a name. It could be in the way she moved, as if she was carefully walking on ice. Which could be related to the spikes on the backs of her shoes. How did anyone walk wearing something like that? Or maybe it was the way she kept peering around as if she was looking for an escape.

I was imagining things. She was getting married. She must be blooming with happiness inside. This must be what humans called pre-wedding jitters. My aunt had mentioned the term along with a bunch of others I was trying to keep straight in my head.

Something about Beth kept drawing my eyes.

I'd only known need in the most practical sense. Hunger, thirst, the ache in my muscles after a long day’s labor. This was different. When I looked at her, a craving I couldn’t explain sliced through me. As if my soul had spent its entire existence waiting for this one person to arrive.

She was beautiful. No denying that. Not in the way human poets spoke of attraction, all soft words and springtime metaphors. No, this was more an odd thing my body recognized before my mind could make any sense of it. Golden light glided across her cheekbones, and her lashes cast shadows as she looked down. I’d thought she’d be brimming with happiness. Instead, something in her expression was wrong, like she was wearing a mask that didn’t fit quite right.

The male said something, and she nodded.

From the first glance, I could tell she was different. There was a softness to her I didn't understand, a light that didn't belong in a tumbledown place like this. She didn’t just walk, she glided, like she was made of silk and summer air, too delicate for my rough world of beasts and rough riding. For whatever reason, I ached to reach for her, knowing I never could.

As they came closer, I stepped over to one of the big barn doors, opening it for them to enter. Why was I doing this? I couldn't say. My aunt was perfectly capable—and she’d tell me so if our guests weren’t with her. I could see it in her dark eyes.

I swallowed hard as they approached, unable to drag my eyes from Beth's tiny, curvy form.

I could already tell that she belonged to a world of crystal glasses and fine clothes, of lilting music and candlelit dinners. I belonged to the wild, the untamed, the temporary. A tent beneath the stars. Meat cooked over an open flame. The kind of life thatwould stain a woman like her, ruin the softness in her hands, steal away that glow in her eyes.

Even if the possibility existed, she wouldn’t want this life. She wouldn’t want me.

The sorhox shifted, but I hardly noticed as they walked closer. Her fiancé’s voice was a hum in the background, full of meaningless sounds. Beth’s skirt swayed across her legs, and her steps almost seemed to drag.

Aunt Inla and the male strode inside the barn, and I nodded politely as they passed, my gaze only forher. If I hadn't been watching her so intently, I would've missed it.

She stumbled. Not much. Just a small misstep on the uneven ground. Her hands flew out as I moved forward to help her.

As she righted herself, her fingertips brushed my arm. My wrist.

Heat surged through me like a strike of lightning. The wind got stuck in my throat. A mark scorched across my skin, spiraling in gold as it spread in a delicate ring on the inside of my right wrist.

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