Page 57 of Grumpy Pucking Orc (Orcs on Ice #1)

Ozar

I was the first orc off the transportation beast, yawning and rubbing the shaggy beard I hadn’t bothered to properly trim while on the road.

The human assistants who’d hopped off before the bus had barely come to a stop were already yanking luggage and equipment from the storage areas under Sizzle’s watchful eye.

Feeling guilty, I turned to give them a hand.

We were free to stagger back to our apartments, although we’d need to be up early for practice.

The humans would be here late, though, ensuring everything was put into the appropriate storage compartment.

Dirty laundry would be promptly sent off for cleaning.

Equipment inspected. Skates sharpened. Sizzle might be a demon, but he took his duties seriously and demanded the same from the humans on his staff.

Strange. Back home I’d never thought I’d admire a demon for his work ethic. Or be working in the human world. Or come to the realization that as much as I loved and missed my home, this human world had charms of its own—charms beyond my beloved mate.

“Ozar! ”

I spun around at the sound of Jordan’s voice, abandoning my plans to assist the humans unloading the bus.

She was bundled up in a puffy blue coat with white mittens.

A thick lock of her brown hair had escaped the white knit hat to curl around her jaw.

She ran toward me, and I opened my arms, catching her as she jumped.

Her legs wrapped around my waist. I held her against my chest, burying my face in the warm skin of her neck.

I would have been glad to stay that way forever, but Jordan pulled her head back to plant a quick kiss on my lips, then slid down my body to stand still pressed against me, her arms now around my waist.

“Get your bag and come home with me,” she commanded.

I wasn’t about to say no to that. As much as I’d grown to enjoy my little apartment, I wasn’t ashamed to admit that Jordan’s house was nicer—especially now that I’d bought her some much-needed furs.

Plus, I knew that Judy didn’t like being left home alone all night.

There was nothing I desperately needed to do or to check on at my place, so I found my duffle bag in the pile next to the bus, wrapped my arm around Jordan’s shoulder, and followed her to her car.

It feels so good to be home.

I started as the thought flitted through my mind.

These streets were so familiar to me. I jogged them every day, waving at the residents on their front stoops, stopping to buy a bottle of water at a corner grocery, nodding as I passed humans walking their dogs, humans pushing baby strollers, humans with plastic grocery bags in each hand, or their phone pressed to their ear.

There was the gas station where an old human with the tight silver curls of his beard framing a wrinkled brown face worked on his vintage Fairlane between helping customers.

There was the tiny deli where a pair of male humans traded quips and made the best corned beef sandwiches.

The barber shop where a twenty-minute haircut seemed to become a three-hour social visit.

The nail salon. The row of houses with a sidewalk that had been decorated with a mural of local historical figures in chalk.

A warmth spread through my chest. It wasn’t just ice cream and milk I loved about Baltimore. It wasn’t just Jordan. Somehow this place had become home. And it had taken a two-week absence to realize it.

I still missed my clan, my friends, my father, my troops.

I still missed the way the shadow of the mountain crept across the meadow in the late afternoon.

I missed our traditional foods, the house I’d built by hand for my future family.

It hurt to think of giving that up, of never seeing that again.

But it hurt just as much to think that I might never see this again, either.

As I folded my body into the small confines of Jordan’s car, I began to think.

Would it be so bad to make my home here?

The hockey team was improving and our losses, while still humiliating, weren’t quite as bad as they had been when we’d started.

And we had fans that cheered us on even when we weren’t playing in Baltimore.

Maybe I could make something of this team—something that would satisfy my need to be a valued and skilled contributor, a leader of a team.

It might not be a team of Guardians like I’d had back home, but a hockey team still seemed to provide something of value to the humans who enjoyed the sport.

Would that be enough?

As the other orcs found wives, they’d leave to go home.

Our team would look completely different from year to year, and I’d find myself constantly having to train new orcs on the game and how to skate, as well as figuring out how to adjust our game strategy for each new player.

I’d be the only orc in this world long-term.

Jordan’s and my children would be the only ones in this world who looked like them, who carried orc blood.

How could I make sure they were accepted?

How could I ensure they knew their heritage, learned my language, carried the stories of our ancestors in their hearts?

How could they be orcs in a human world?

And while I’d encountered so much support, I knew there were humans who hated our presence here.

I’d seen the scowls, the glares. I’d heard the occasional shout to go home, the angry words telling me I didn’t belong here.

I’d agreed with them, ready to return as soon as I’d found a bride, but now I was contemplating living among humans—some of whom would never accept me, or my children, or Jordan for having chosen me as her mate.

Would her practice suffer? Would some humans refuse to go to a dentist that married and had children with an orc?

“Penny for your thoughts.” My beloved’s soft, concerned voice broke me from my spiral of anxiety.

“The team has improved, but we are still not winning.” I was a complete coward for not being honest, but we’d knitted a fragile repair of our relationship after the disastrous proposal of marriage, and I didn’t want to risk further damage.

“Oh, honey!” She reached out to take my hand, entwining her fingers in mine.

“Don’t discount those very significant improvements.

Rome wasn’t built in a day. And the games are energizing and so much more fun.

People aren’t watching because they want to see silly orcs-on-ice, they’re watching to see you all score, defend the net, and fight back against the other team.

You’re real hockey players, even if it’s another season or two before you win a game. ”

I knew she meant that speech to be inspiring, but her belief that it might be a year or two before we won even one game was disheartening.

“Thank you.” I squeezed her hand gently. “And I’m tired. For some reason, sitting on Bus for hours at a time is more exhausting than the actual game.”

“Oh, I know that.” She smiled. “I used to take the bus home for Christmas break when I was in college, and I always felt like I’d run a marathon and been beaten with a leather strap by the time we arrived in Buffalo.

My parents would pick me up at the station, and I’d fall asleep in bed the moment I got home. ”

I eyed her. “I think I have enough energy for sex if you limit your expectations.”

The laugh that burst out of her did more to energize me than a dozen cups of coffee.

“As much as I want to feel your touch and have you inside me, I’ll be perfectly happy to cuddle up with you in bed, feeling your body against mine as we sleep. And in the morning, I’ll wake you with my mouth on your cock, just so you know how much I missed you these last two weeks.”

My hand-axe began to harden at the thought, but I knew that I would be happy having her against me in our furs as we slept. And I was already envisioning all the things I would do to her in the morning.

Morning. Because I truly was exhausted.

Jordan found a parking space only a block away from her house.

I carried my duffle bag, which seemed to have gained a hundred pounds since I’d gotten off Bus, and held her hand as we walked up the street.

Even this felt warmly familiar, like home.

She let go of my hand to unlock her door, and I was surprised by a chorus of meows as we walked in.

“Surprise!” Jordan’s smile wobbled with uncertainty as she turned and extended an arm toward the two cats racing across the living room.

I instinctively shut the door, knowing that Jordan wouldn’t want Judy to escape. Or the other cat…

Small. Black. Friendly, but displaying obvious deference to the tuxedo cat that ruled this house.

“Coal?” I could hardly believe it. Cats often looked similar, but this little feline was identical to the one I’d fallen for at the animal shelter.

Jordan twisted her hands together in front of her waist. “I couldn’t risk him being adopted before you came home, so I got him.

For you. And after a few days, he and Judy seem to be getting along great.

It helps that he lets her get her way in everything and is so chill with her temperamental outbursts of hissing and growling. ”

“For me.” Like an idiot, I was repeating her words, barely able to absorb all she was saying. I wanted to claim it was due to exhaustion, but I think surprise was more to blame.

“For you.” She put a tentative hand on my bicep. “If I acted in haste and you weren’t ready to adopt, it’s okay. I’ve gotten really fond of him, and like I said, Judy gets along with him as well. What I’m saying is that I’m happy to keep him if you’re not ready to be a cat-dad yet.”

“I am very ready to be a father,” I blurted out. “I mean, a cat-father.”

I meant both. Hopefully the other kind of father would happen eventually, but for now I was beyond excited to know that I would be Coal’s orc-father.