Page 20 of One Night with Her Untamed Orc
Tarik holds me until I settle, until I’m dehydrated and my blouse is soaked and smeared with the make-up Mary put on me. “I’m sorry to ruin this. To waste your time. To ruin your trail.”
Tarik’s heavy hands spin me around to face him. I refuse to look into his concerned eyes. I can’t; I’m just a delusional failure who thought this work made me valuable. But I’m just a piece of flotsam on the sea. “Look at me, Emma.” His voice is commanding and gentle at the same time. I shake my head at him. With a sigh, he lifts my chin with his finger, holding my face up, pinning me with his eyes.
“You haven’t ruined anything. Nor have you wasted anything! Every second with you is a treasure. I love your laugh, your bullheadedness, the way you care for nature, the sounds you make in my arms. You will find another job. Someone who cares about the welfare of eels as much as you do. But, I am happy. Because now I don’t have to let you go. I can be the beast who keeps you trapped here in the wilderness with me. Barefoot, full to the brim with my cum and pleasure, and happy.”
“For acting half-feral, speaking in three-syllable sentences and non-sequiturs, you are poetic and dirty.”
“You make it impossible to keep my thoughts and feelings to myself. You make me more honest, more myself, than anyone else ever. You’re my mate. Emma, will you stay with me?”
More tears. But this time, tears of disbelief and love. “Yes. I will be your mate. I will stay with you.”
Chapter 19
Emma
The weather turned on a dime. From lazy late summer days allowing me to skinny dip to chilly mornings where I see my breath as I sit on the deck overlooking the sea. It’s a little heart wrenching—how quickly it happened. Maybe I’m just a little sensitive.
The chilly morning air seems to have rejuvenated Tarik, though. Not that he talks much, but when he does, it’s pumpkins and Harvest Festival all the time. He has a long measuring tape and measures the pumpkins every day, recording the growth of their girth on a clipboard. After taking photos, he sold several, and a forklift arrived to harvest them. One now sits outside the library. The librarians, Betty and August, act like it’s their new pet, wiping it down, decorating it with flowers and bows, telling it goodnight each evening.
The festival is today. It’s been a week of long days and nights. Hand-painting signs, tagging pumpkins, trucking them into the town park. Yesterday we spent all day setting up straw bales and signs (byyours truly) for the various events happening. The entire town is in a bustle. It’s adorable.
I’ve loved helping Tarik. It’s kept me busy, my mind focused; though, I’ve still had time to ruminate on what I’m going to do next. What I’ve really loved about this week, besides being with Tarik, is how welcoming everyone in Moonfang has been to me.
I was a little worried Tarik would be too shy to introduce me as his…girlfriend? Mate? But I needn’t have worried. He proudly introduced me to everyone as, “Emma, my mate,” with his arms wrapped tightly around me. He even took me to trivia night at Stone Barrel Brewery. We won the science category (surprised? I’m not).
Today is his day to shine. He’s invested countless hours nurturing these pumpkins, unsure if they’d grow, if the rain would ruin them, if they’d be eaten by pests. Now, they’re here in all their orange pumpkin glory. He’s like a proud papa, polishing the orange skins so they shine in the autumn light.
Proud papa…don’t mind if I do. I like the sound of that.
“Would you like a hot cider?” I’m jolted out of my thoughts by Ravena, the woman who runs Moonlit Grounds, passing me a mug of cider. There’s a twinkle in her eye as I take the mug from her. “Just set the mug on the tray over there by my booth when you’re done. And remember, orcs make doting fathers.”
I don’t know how long I stand there, mouth gaping, mug precariously held in my hand as I stare after the woman. Did she really just say that to me? Did she read my thoughts? Is she a witch? All these questions swirl around in my brain, interrupted only when Tarik sidles up next to me.
“Mmm, smells good. That Ravena’s cider?” I nod, smiling up at him, unable to release the image in my mind. “Be careful, folks say she’s a bit of a meddler in love lives.”
“I don’t have to be careful. I’m already in love.”
Tarik blushes, his cheeks deepening their green tint. It’s adorable. Handing him my mug, he takes a drink, then gives me a kiss on the forehead. “It’s going to be a glorious day. Poros is on his way with the rest of the pumpkins for punkin chunkin.”
I can feel excitement radiating from him. It’s going to be a great day.
“The winner of this year’s giant pumpkin competition goes to our very own Tarik Stormfell from Green Thumb Growers! Let’s give him a round of applause! And don’t go far, after May performs hernew harvest song, the punkin chunkin will start!” The orc behind the microphone is overly excited by everything he says.
I cheer loudly, clapping and whooping as Tarik receives his ribbon shaped like a pumpkin. Laughing (have I ever seen him laugh?) he runs down the stage steps to me and scoops me up in his arms. He spins me around. He has eyes only for me. I have eyes only for him.
Our kiss is interrupted by Poros, who slaps us both on the back, shouting over May’s song to tell us something about the catapults for punkin chunkin. Tarik snarls at Poros, but quickly recovers himself to listen.
Koru shows up with a keg of pumpkin ale. We all chuck pumpkins, laugh, and celebrate the coming season. “Is Christmas like this, too?” I ask as we pack up at the end of the day.
“Winter solstice and Christmas are a blast. There’s a big town party that includes Secret Santa, hot cocoa and gingerbread house competitions.”
“That sounds like a lot of fun,” I say.
“It will be with you,” he says, his eyes sparkling with delight as he wraps his arm around me. “Let’s go home, my pumpkin.”
Epilogue
Tarik
