Page 5 of Grumpy Pucking Orc
Oh, I did love me some whiskey.Anda fire on a cold winter night.
“Um.” I stood ten feet from the orc like a total idiot, not sure what to say or remembering why I’d come into the parking lot to begin with.
“Sorry. This is your car?”
The growl of his low, accented voice sent heat spiraling down through my body. The orc pushed away from my car trunk and took a step forward then stopped, clearly sensing my unease.
“Yeah, but…”
Another drop of green slid down the bloodied tusk, hovering at the end.
I’d gotten used to other supernatural creatures. Well, maybe not demons, butothersupernatural creatures. But orcs were new here. Were they like demons? Like the shifters? Like the elves?
“I’ll just…go to the stadium.” The drop of blood splattered onto the pavement. “Or another place. No bleeding is allowed in the locker room.”
Dentist-me warred with woman-me and with woman-alone-in-a-city-me. He was huge, and he had a rather largeknife strapped to one thigh over his sweatpants. It was understandable that even someone as large and intimidating as this guy wouldn’t want to walk around Baltimore unarmed, but that knife looked kinda big to be legal and it made me nervous. But his mouth was bleeding, so knife or not, dentist-me was winning the fight.
No surprise there.
I realized he was waiting for me to move, so he wouldn’t come closer as he edged past me to walk back to the stadium or another part of the parking lot. I also realized that this was the team forward I’d been ogling during the game, the only one who’d scored a goal, the only one who’d managed to stay on his feet, as inexpertly as he skated. He was also the one who’d sent a member of the opposing team flying and initiated that huge fight.
A fight that had no doubt resulted in his injury. I thought of that puck slamming into the side of his face and winced.
I was torn between moving away and letting the orc walk off elsewhere or being polite—being a dentist.
Polite dentist finally won.
“Are you okay?” I asked, stepping closer to the orc.
Chapter 3
Ozar
We’d lost the battle…or contest. Whatever. It was no surprise, but I was still furious and felt a wave of humiliation every time I thought of the score. The only thing saving me from a murderous rage was that we’d gotten into a fight with the humans on the opposing team, and they’d limped off the ice, injured far worse off than we had been.
Although, as I felt the empty sockets where two teeth had been and wiggled my loose tusk, I might reconsider whether we’d truly won that fight or not.
The rest of the team had headed for showers and out to a bar, but I’d quickly changed and left the arena, needing some privacy. I hadn’t initially gotten it, finding a crowd of humans waiting outside. Most of them were just there to gawk, but my eyes had been drawn to a small boy clutching a program and hopping around with excitement.
“Mr. Ozar?” His voice had reached me over the din of traffic and the loud conversation from the adults. “Mr. Ozar? Can you sign this?”
The adults parted as I stepped forward, everyone givingme a wide berth. Except the child who sucked in a breath and grinned at me, lifting the program and a pen upward.
I knelt because I towered over this little one, taking the paper and the writing implement. There had been several stereotypes about orcs that I’d encountered since coming here, and our assumed lack of literacy was one of them. We had libraries. We had a written language. And I could indeed sign my name.
Which I did, handing the paper and pen back to the boy. “Do you like hockey?”
He nodded. “Yes, but I want to be an orc when I grow up.”
A man nearby, perhaps his father, chuckled and sent me a look that was both apologetic and wary.
“Why wait to grow up?” I told the boy, gently placing a hand on his slim shoulder. “What is your name?”
His eyes shined as he looked up into mine. “Mike. Mike Miller.”
I nodded solemnly. “I, Ozar, warrior and guardian of Clan Heregut, announce that Mike Miller, human of Baltimore, is a friend and now a member of our clan. I vouch for his strength and courage. He will honor the clan with his deeds and forever be known as an orc brother.”
Tears sparkled in the boy’s eyes, and his mouth wobbled. I patted his shoulder, taking care not to knock the tiny child over, and stood. “I hope to see you soon, brother Mike Miller.”
