Page 7 of Grumpy Pucking Orc
But now…
As a child I’d seen the bond between my father and mother. I’d grown up hearing stories from orcs who’d had the bond, who’d experienced that connection with their spouse.
Then the plague had happened.
Many orcs lost their mates. Some of them died soon after as well. Others struggled to continue on, living so that there would be enough of our elders to tell the stories of our ancestors and share their wisdom.
Even with the stories, none of us young males ever expected to be able to have a mate bond.
Yet here I was, bleeding in a parking lot, the threads of awareness braiding and twisting, tying me to this human female in front of me. It shouldn’t have been possible, butthere could be no other explanation for that instant sense of connection, for the song awakening in my heart, for the emotions soaring through me.
I had an almost overwhelming urge to pick her up, carry her back home to my den, and worship her, body and soul.
I resisted that urge. First, forcibly taking unwilling females was not allowed, and the screaming and flailing from this female might bring enough humans to take her away from me. I didn’t want anyone to take her away. A rush of fierce protectiveness surged through me at the thought.
Second, I was already injured with my tusk loose, and two teeth gone and back on the ice somewhere in a streak of green blood. I didn’t live in a den; it was something called an apartment. These apartments weren’t built for securing unwilling females, so even if I managed to get her there without the humans incapacitating me, I’d have no way of ensuring she didn’t escape.
How embarrassing that my first meeting with the female who was my true mate had taken place while I was injured and in pain. It wasn’t a good start to our courtship, and I reached up to my tusk, mortified that I was making such a poor first impression on the female I’d already bonded with.
“Stop wiggling your tooth…tusk.” The female stepped close again and smacked my hand. Hers was a slim, delicate hand tipped with equally delicate claws painted an attractive pink. It wasn’t anywhere near large or strong enough to move my own massive green one.
Not registering what she was saying, I wiggled my tusk again, grunting as pain spiked through my mouth.
“Stop.” The female reached out again but hesitatedbefore she touched me this time. “You’re going to pull it out if you keep that up.”
Thatgot me to stop. The thought of losing one of my tusks was terrifying. Losing my tusk while playing with stick-wielding humans? I’d never live it down.
And I’d never get her to be my wife with only one tusk. This female’s concern clearly told me that she would only consider a mate who hadtwotusks.
The female opened up the bag she had on her shoulder and pulled out a small packet of white sheets. “Open up. Let me see.”
For some reason, I instantly obeyed this bossy female and opened my mouth. An orc female would never have demanded I show her the inside of my mouth. They were bossy, yes, but my loose and missing teeth were not something another orc would have bothered over. In fact—“Ah!”
The female jumped a little at my shout but kept poking the white sheets in my mouth. They were coming away stained with my green blood, but none of that seemed to worry her. Finally, she stood back and balled the bloody sheets up into a wad, folding her arms across her chest and glaring at me.
I shut my mouth, oddly subdued and strangely concerned that she was going to scold me.
“You have lost two of your teeth!”
My fears were realized. Yes, she was scolding me. Along with my unfamiliar nervousness, I also felt respect and a surge of lust. This slight human was feisty. The mate bond flared, roaring into a flame. I straightened to my full height, wincing as my engorged hand-axe fought the confines of that stupid plastic cup they’d made all of us wear during the game.
“Donotwiggle that tusk.”
I dropped my hand at the fierce tone of her voice. Me. A Clan Guardian. A warrior. A hero, who’d defended our territory and had made a name for myself for my strength and bravery, was cowed by a tiny human female.
I’d do anything for her, anything she demanded. Anything. She was my life, my very breath. I would breed with no other female, marry no other. If she rejected me, then I would spend my life alone and mourning the loss of the very reason for my existence.
“Where are those teeth you lost?” the female demanded, jabbing a finger at me. “You’re still bleeding, so they had to have come out during the game.”
I nodded. “I lost the teeth during the game. But they may be in the dumpster if the human with Zamboni-beast has already cleaned the ice.”
My teeth had been knocked out when a hockey male had hit me in the face with the minotaur turd. Or maybe I’d lost those teeth when I’d accidentally gotten hit with a teammate’s hockey stick. Yeah, it might have been that.
At least I’d scored a goal. Losing a couple of teeth was worth that, in my opinion.
The female swore, making me even harder. I shifted, widening my stance and wondering if I could reach into my pants and rip the plastic cup off. I’d feel a lot better without it cutting off circulation, and maybe a display of my arousal would impress this female. But before I could decide on a course of action, the female had yanked my head lower and pried my mouth open, once more poking at the empty sockets in my mouth and continuing to swear.
Humans had quite the vivid vocabulary. It was really very impressive.
