Page 4 of First Comes Orc, Second Comes Baby
Which was, way,wayabove Charlotte’s paygrade.
“Charlotte?”
She jerked her mind back into focus. “My career is important, and I think I’d like the first year after the start of a committed relationship to just be for us. But after that, I've decided it's better to do the baby thing while I'm still young and have a lot of energy. It'll mean taking some time out from my career eventually, but family is a goal that's as important to me.”
“Excellent.” Matchmaker smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “Since we're all on the same page, I'm going to mark you as active. The tier you selected, you'll have your first date within a week, Charlotte. How does that sound?”
Charlotte grinned. “It sounds great.”
So why was her stomach churning?
2
“Don't fuck this up,”Brahnt’s mother said through the smartphone, eyes sharp over a hawk-like nose.
Regine’s dark hair was slicked back into an elegant bun of braids, a cream-colored blouse and slacks her morning attire. Next to her at the gazebo breakfast table was Brahnt’s father, a male with yellow undertones to his green skin and dark eyes, his black hair cut a little longer over the collar of his tunic.
“Regine, we're supposed to be working on our language,” his father said.
“He's an adult.”
“Just because he's an adult, doesn't mean we need to use harsh language when communicating.”
Regine eyed Samesh askance. “You forget I've had ringside seats to the circus you call a kitchen on Friday nights.”
“That’s different.” Samesh, an executive chef, was normally one of the mildest mannered, dare Brahnt say, gentle males Brahnt had ever been around.
Until you put him in a kitchen. One didn't become a Michelin star celebrity chef without picking up a few ruthless traits.
Still, listening to his father swear was like listening to a preacher’s son who’d just discovered profanity.
Awkward, a little embarrassing, but since Samesh signed the paychecks, everyone chorused “Yes, Chef” and pretended like the bite was worse than the bark.
Brahnt emerged from his car, nodding briefly at his driver and walked up to the. . .he stared at it. . .quaint brick building in an artsy section of New York.
Interesting choice.
He ignored the cluster of Humans on the sidewalk screaming in bad rhyme. They wanted Orcs to “go home”. But even the elders couldn’t remember if the fables about a Realm Gate the Orcs—Uthilsen in the old language, slowly dying out from disuse—came through in either accidental or deliberate migration, depending on the version of the fable, were true.
One Human tried to step in his path—he snapped his teeth at him. The Human squeaked and scurried back, shouting and holding up a smartphone.
“MillionOrc Matchmaking comes highly recommended,” Brahnt said, continuing past them. “If they don't match me with a suitable Human in ninety days, I'll sue for breach of contract and false representation.”
“Maybe that's not the energy we want to walk into the consultation with,” Samesh said. “This isn't a corporate takeover. It's a marriage.”
Regine rolled her eyes. “Same thing. Business deal.”
Samesh and Brahnt shared a look. Father sighed. “Females.”
“I know you'll get this right, Brahnt,” Mother said. “This is one of the most important decisions of your life, and you have a responsibility to the family to choose wisely.”
“Feelings are important,” Father interjected. “Take time to get to know the girl, decide if you have true compatibility.”
“Good advice,” Mother said. “You can't pick by looks alone or even personality. We're looking for an impeccable pedigree, proven discretion with past relationships, good education, and—”
“Compatible personality, communication skills, mutual interests—”
Mother waved a manicured hand. “Whatever. All of that bullshit too. The most important thing is we fulfil the UFC’s requirements.”
