Page 21 of My Orc Billionaire
Home.
Completely ridiculous. I’d lived in this building for a month, total. Not even that long. This house, thisisland…it wasn’thome. Bramblewood wasn’t home either, nor was the mine.
Then what is home?
I scowled to myself. I didn’twantto return to the orc world, even if I could, so it wasn’t like that was home. I might have several houses, but none of them werehomes…were they?
When we reached the portico—were those pumpkins? Since when did I have pumpkins on my front porch? I didn’t wait, but strode toward the front door and wrenched it open. When I took a deep breath, I could feel the tension in my chest easing. Yes, this was where I should be. The scents of salt air, thunderstorm-laden clouds, some kind of tasteful grapevine-and-leaf decoration on the chandelier, Riven’s cooking, and Riven herself.
And…
Frowning, I stepped into the foyer.
“I’ll put this in your room, Mr. Abydos,” said Shaden, carrying my bag in behind me.
Distracted, I merely grunted, inhaling again, trying to capture the strange scent which had tickled my nostrils earlier. Was that…? Riven, yes, but…
Stalking deeper into the house, I followed the scent trail like a hound. It was…wrong. Illness, pain. I realized I was jogging, my inhales frantic as I tried to capture the smell.
Vaguely I heard the crewmember shutting the front door, heard the sound of the car starting up as he returned to the airstrip. I was alone in the house. Just me and…Riven.
It was Riven I was smelling. Riven’s wrongness.
Blood.
It was blood.
Not bothering to swallow down my growl, I picked up the pace, hurtling down the hallway toward the small suite of rooms the architect had designed for a live-in servant like her. Except Riven was more than a servant, wasn’t she? She took care of me, she caredaboutme.
Didn’t she?
Blood! MyKteerhowled, and all the tension which had leeched from my chest earlier tightened my muscles, pushing me, pushing me. That wasRiven’sblood I smelled, and now the scent was not only strong, but obvious too. How could I have wondered?
Blood.
I reached the door to her suite, and it didn’t occur to me to stop. “Riven!” I roared as I slammed the door open, pulling to a halt just inside the little sitting room with the kitchenette.
My gaze automatically went to the table, thinking she might have cut herself, but the space was clean. It was the only space where it seemed my little human, who was so tidy and neat in the kitchen, didn’t see anything wrong with leaving her shoes strewn across the floor, or books piled haphazardly on the end tables beside smiling plastic jack-o-lanterns.
It amused me to see this glimpse into her life, but myKteerstill urged me to find her, find the source of the stench.
“Riven!” This time it wasn’t a roar; I told myself it was just a call. I waslookingfor her, dammit. Her and her injury. I stalked to the couch—she wasn’t behind it—then turned in a circle. “Riven, where are you?”
Then I heard it; a faint moan coming from behind one of the other doors. I remembered there was a large bathroom behind the left one, so that must be the bedroom. Without thinking, I stalked toward it, wrenching it open.
The darkness beyond—she’d pulled her drapes against the sunset—didn’t hinder my senses. I could see a shape in the bed, scent her there. The smell of her discomfort was almost overpowering.
I lowered my voice as I glided across the room. “Riven?” I reached the bed and, without thinking, placed my hand on the small, huddled shape beneaththe blankets and dropped to one knee beside the mattress. “What happened? Can I call for an ambulance?”
“Go away.”
Her voice was muffled, her tone petulant, pain lacing her words. In fact, the last syllable ended in a little moan. LikefuckI was going to go away!
She curled tighter on herself, whispering it was fine, something about cramps. But her scent told me otherwise—sharp pain and copper. MyKteerroared. I’d faced a cave-in, fire, a broken body. But this? I felt helpless.
Leaning over her, I applied more pressure, realizing my hand was spread across her shoulders. “Riven, you’re bleeding.”
It wasn’t a question, and she’d better not lie to me and deny it.
