Page 6 of First Comes Orc, Second Comes Baby
“You understand I need to be married and have a child within a year to fulfill the terms of the UFC’s request?” Brahnt said. This was the second time he'd said that, but he wanted to be clear.
Since they were talking about open and transparent communication.
Matchmaker made a noise in her throat. “You mentioned the UFC. Is that legal?”
“I assure you it is. There were many who spent a great deal of money attempting to break the edict—” and the politicians who drew it up “—with no success.”
“I sense some hostility, Mr. Stonefist. You don't like to be the loser in any scenario, do you?”
“I normally get what I want, yes. When I don’t. . .well.”
“Let's move on, shall we? Would you like a cup of chamomile tea? It’s. . .soothing.” Matchmaker stared at him. “A special blend for my Orcs.”
Brahnt gestured, the motion brusque. “Can you arrange a Human who can fulfill my requirements or not?”
He’d left it a little late, mostly as a form of protest, but his mother’s great-aunt was on the North American council and had nudged her niece, who had in turn sat on Brahnt. Hard.
When his mother brought her foot down, everyone obeyed.
Matchmaker sighed. “What are you offering in return, Mr. Stonefist?”
Brahnt laughed again, incredulous. “Wealth, travel, great sex.” He deepened his voice. “And an excellent health care package, Matchmaker. The female who marries me and carries my child will want for nothing.”
“Understood. You are aware that marriage is not transactional?”
Brahnt lifted an eyebrow, curling his upper lip. “I’m aware you don’t intend that statement to be ironic. . .Matchmaker. Remind me, what was your retainer fee again?”
“It should not be transactional; let me rephrase. You need to be willing to fall in love, Mr. Stonefist. To be emotionally available and vulnerable. To develop a deep and meaningful connection with another person. Understand that your wife isn’t simply there to serve your needs. It's a two-way street.”
Brahnt almost rolled his eyes. He’d picked up the habit from his mother, so he’d blame her. But only in his head. “Yes, yes.” He checked his watch. It was a family heirloom inherited from Dada Gurvinder, and Brahnt would not disrespect it by using a device to tell time. “I have five more minutes.”
“Fine.” Matchmaker’s voice was a little tight. “Let's discuss my requirements for the first date. At MillionOrc Matchmaking agency, we expect our bachelors to pamper prospective partners. None of that coffee date nonsense.”
His aunts would slaughter him. Did Matchmaker think he’d been raised by wolves, or Human males?
“Of course,” he said, voicing absolutely none of his sass.
3
“It's a coffee date,”Charlotte told her twin, walking briskly toward the neighborhood cafe where she was slated to meet her Orc match in an hour. Snowkiss poked her head out of her carrier, watching the crowd.
Charlotte glanced up from the video call in time to avoid running into a woman carrying a battered white sign with “Humans First!” in scrawled red paint. A small crowd congregated in the park, and Charlotte suppressed the urge to ask to see their protest permit.
She tried to walk around the woman. “I just want to get by.”
She liked to arrive at a location early to give herself time—and an opportunity—to calm her nerves.
Well, to bring her energy down a notch in the first place.
Charlotte accepted her energy could be somewhat overwhelming, and sometimes men didn't respond well to overwhelm.
“Humans First!” the woman screamed in Charlotte’s face. Which was unfortunate, because Pumpkin Spice Season had started early this year and that wasn’t a particularly pleasant scent to smell on anyone’s breath when it had been sitting for awhile.
On second thought. . .she slowed. “You know, this is an opportunity for communication.”
“I hear the protestors, keep walking,” Caro ordered. “You won’t change anyone’s mind.”
“I know that. But maybe I can talk to them, get them to see that other perspectives are valid even if they don’t agree. And maybe they don’t have a permit.”
