Page 4 of One Night with Her Untamed Orc
Tears form in my eyes; I squeeze them shut, refusing to cry in front of this man who thinks he can—own his land and tell me what’s allowed.
“Fine,” I say, holding out my hand to shake his. “But I am essentially renting a room from you, for free.” I stare at him. It’s my professor all over again. Making rules, then changing the goalposts halfway through, leaving me to scramble to make my work match his new requirements. Tears sting my eyes. I’m determined not to let him see me cry. Not then. Not now.
I need this. All the research indicates this is the eels’ breeding ground. I need evidence to prove my hypothesis. This is my make-or-break moment.
Tarik’s eyes are still glued to mine. He reaches out and grabs my hand in his, swallowing mine in his massive green one. I let out a breath of release as we shake. Completely ignoring the way his calluses feel against my skin. Ignoring the heat of his hand. Definitely ignoring how thick hisfingers are. Gulp.
“Clean your food things up. I’ll wait.” Sighing, I do, mentally kicking myself the entire time. Once everything is sealed in the plastic totes, the sun is behind the mountain. Begrudgingly, I wade back out to release the eel from the trap. We’ll start tomorrow, I think to myself. I grab my backpack with my personal items in it, shove the notebook back inside, and stomp over to him in my flip-flops. He’s been sitting under a tree, watching my every move.
Without a word, he stands and stalks away. I let myself admire his backside—broad back and thick thighs—for exactly thirty seconds, then I follow, not wanting to get lost in the forest in the dying light of day.
Chapter 4
Tarik
With each step along the pea gravel path up to my cabin, I ask myself, “What the fuck am I thinking?”
But there’s no way I was going to let her sleep down there, in the wilderness, by herself. I suppose I could have stood guard all night. Pausing, I mull that over. I hear her flip-flopping behind me, and it pushes me forward. Too late for that idea. She’s mine. Now I just have to prove it to her.
The wooden deck of my cabin stretches out on all sides. And the east side overlooks the water. Yep, I can see her little boat bobbing in the water below the hill where my cabin sits, nestled between the trees.
I hear her breath catch behind me; an almost silent “Wow,” escapes her lips. Yeah. I get that reaction a lot…on the few occasions I let people come to my home.
Clearing my throat, I turn half to her, half to the house and say, “Make yourself at home,” then walk inside, leaving the door open.
I’m in the kitchen when she walks in, looking like a sun-ripened goddess. Wisps of hair, loose from her braid, frame her face. She stands with her hands on her hips, backpack still on her back, and asks, “Where do I sleep?” I can hear the tenseness in her voice.
I swallow hard and point at the ceiling. She nods and takes off for the stairs. I rip a head of lettuce apart for a salad and to relieve my idiotic frustration at my idiotic self.
The salad, full of things I grew with my bare hands, is a bright rainbow. I allow myself a moment of pride before I hear her footsteps thundering down the stairs. With a calmness that would surprise my mother, I serve her a bowl as she comes barreling into the kitchen.
“You’re not serious!” It isn’t a question, though it should be. Rather than respond, I pull out my homemade salad dressing from the fridge and shake the jar, then unscrew the lid and pour some on both of our salads. I push the bowl across the island counter to her. She glares at it, then at me.
“I’m not sleeping in the same bed as you. I don’t know you. I tried to imagine how chivalrous you are, an orc refusing to let a lady sleep outside on the ground. But no, this is not okay.”
“I will sleep down here.” Not that I want to. I want to curl myself around her and inhale her scent all night long. But of course, that won’t be happening now. Damn mating bond and my damn mouthgetting me in trouble. This is what happens when I open my mouth. This is one reason why I don’t like people.
She eyes the salad. “Is it poisoned?”
“No, fresh, organic from my garden.”
“Okay.” She grabs the bowl and carries it out onto the wooden deck to gaze at the water. I eat mine standing where I am.
It made so much sense in my head. And yet now, I’ve completely botched this.
When she comes back into the kitchen, she washes her bowl and fork, leaving them on the dish dry rack, then spins to address me. “Listen, I’m going back to my camp, check on my traps, and sleep. Tomorrow, I’ll eat a prepackaged gross breakfast, take the boat out to check traps, and work on my data. That’s it. I won’t leave a mess. I won’t be loud. And I’m not sleeping here.”
“I hope you sleep well,” I say, a bumbling fool. Watching my mate stomp out of my cabin and back down the hill is heartbreaking. And I deserve it.
Chapter 5
Tarik
It’s impossible to sleep, knowing she’s down there at the water’s edge. Knowing my mate is down there, alone, vulnerable, but determined and strong. All night, I tossed and turned, thinking of the nasty teeth of the eel and imagining it seeking revenge for being captured; or how I let her go back down there to fend for herself. I thought about being her night guard, but I know that would really backfire on me. Stalker-level romance is not my jam.
What kind of woman gets excited by eels? Emma certainly is one of a kind.
Then I’d roll over and revel in how strong and sure of herself she was. Then again, for that spark when we shook hands—that knowledge and wisdom that she is the one for me. She is mine, whether I like it or not. Even if that means admiring her eels with her. Gross.
