Page 23
Story: Orc Me, Maybe
I laugh, but it’s not as sharp as usual. “I’m a mess.”
“You’remymess right now.”
That stops me cold.
He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look away. Just sits there, waiting for me to catch up.
“I’m not yours,” I say, breath catching slightly.
“No,” he says, softer now. “But I’m thinking maybe I want you to be.”
And the silence after that… It’s electric.
My heart stutters. My skin buzzes. I lean forward before I think better of it. He meets me halfway, slow, deliberate, eyes dropping to my mouth—and for one perfect second, the air between us cracks with possibility.
He smells like cedar and wet pine and something warmer. Something steadier. I want to touch his jaw, feel the rough line of it beneath my fingers, trace the edge of something that might, just might, be tender under all that stone.
His hand brushes my cheek, fingers barely grazing skin, and I forget how to breathe.
knock knock knock
We freeze.
The door rattles. The storm wails.
Then comes the small, unmistakable voice: “Daddy?”
Torack pulls back instantly. Not harsh, but fast. Like he’s yanked back to earth.
I stand too quickly, blanket slumping off my shoulders, pulse still roaring in my ears.
“It’s okay, Lil!” I call, voice too bright. “Come in!”
The door creaks open and there she is—Lillian, tiny and disheveled, pajama-clad and clutching her pillow like a shield.
“There’s a bug in my cabin,” she says, voice grave. “It had eyes on itsknees.”
Torack moves. Gentle now. Steady. “I’ll check it.”
Lillian grabs his hand without hesitation. “And it hissed at me.”
He looks back at me—one beat, one breath—then disappears into the night, her small frame tucked close to his.
I sit back down, fingers trembling, heartbeat refusing to settle.
So close.
So nearly.
Almost.
And now I’m just sitting here in the dark, a storm still raging, wrapped in a blanket and wishing I hadn’t closed my eyes quite so soon.
CHAPTER 10
TORACK
Iwake up before the sun, like always, but this time it’s not from habit that kicks me out of bed—it’s that gnawing feeling under my ribs. Like something’s unfinished. Or maybe wrecked.
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23 (Reading here)
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 54
- Page 55
- Page 56
- Page 57
- Page 58
- Page 59
- Page 60
- Page 61
- Page 62
- Page 63
- Page 64
- Page 65
- Page 66
- Page 67
- Page 68
- Page 69
- Page 70
- Page 71
- Page 72
- Page 73
- Page 74
- Page 75
- Page 76