Page 5 of Grumpy Pucking Orc (Orcs on Ice #1)

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 hesitated before she touched me this time. “You’re going to pull it out if you keep that up.”

That got 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 had two tusks.

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.

“Do not wiggle 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.

My brain short circuited as she gently touched my loose tusk. Did she know what that meant? Probably not. Humans didn’t have tusks, so this female probably had no idea how intimate it was to fondle another’s tusk.

The female stepped back again, wiping her hands on more of the little white cloths and digging into her purse. “I’m going to need to see that Monday morning. I’ll squeeze you in first thing at eight, so be there on time.”

I took the card that she held out and read it.

I’d been working hard on learning the humans’ scribbly language and recognized an address and phone number along with two lines that must be her name.

Names? Why were there two lines? The humans I’d met so far didn’t have this many names.

Maybe she was a special human? Maybe this included her titles and rank? Was she also a military officer?

Her voice broke me from my thoughts. “And if you can find those two teeth, wrap them in wet cloths and bring them in with you. I doubt I can put them back in, but I can use them to mold new teeth for you. I’ll also need to do X-rays and see if there are any broken sections left that I need to remove and determine if you need a bone graft to support the implants. ”

I nodded, glancing once more at the card. I hadn’t understood most of what she said, but it was clear she wanted me to meet her Monday morning at this address. “I will be there. My gratitude, Schooner Dental Reconstruction. You are kind and beautiful.”

I was proud of my careful pronunciation, and equally proud to remember not to add “spinster” to her name. I’d learned that last night when trying to buy a human female a beverage at the bar near the stadium.

She made a snort-noise that I thankfully realized was the human version of expressing mirth.

“It’s Doctor Schooner, but you can call me Jordan.” The female extended her hand .

“Ozar.” I gently took her hand in mine, trying not to crush it or break any of the pretty, painted, delicate claws. “Please call me Ozar.”

“Ozar. A powerful name. It suits you.” She smiled, and I released her hand. “I’ll see you Monday morning, Ozar.”

Staring as she walked away, I noticed that she hadn’t wiped her hand off after touching me as so many human women did.

She’d expressed concern over my damaged tusk—even touching it. She hadn’t appeared repulsed by me; in fact, she’d invited me to visit her at a very indecent hour Monday morning. Even if the mate bond hadn’t wrapped its delicate threads about my heart, I would have been transfixed by her.

My hand-axe more than liked her, but that was typical. I hadn’t been with another in quite a while. Abstinence plus the euphoria of a mate bond had me hard as a metal rod.

No other female would do. I wanted my hand-axe to rise for no one but her, spill seed for no one but her. I knew that future self-pleasure releases would only occur when thinking of her.

Jordan. My mate, Jordan.

Reaching into my pants, I ripped the plastic cup off and tossed it across the parking lot. My member sprung free inside the pants, and I reached down to adjust it.

A mate.

Hopefully she felt the same way. I might have lost two teeth, and my team may have lost the game, but I’d won in every way that mattered. I’d found my true mate.