Page 8 of How to Fail at Escaping an Alpha Orc (How to Fail #3)

Chapter Eight

Daria

E very morning, I wondered if this would be the moment I was taken to the Death Mask. To my probable demise. I wanted to trust his words that he would protect me, but it felt silly. However, it had now been a week in lockdown, as I now called it, and no scary call. And if I shut my mind off from all the horror that could await me, which was a tall ask, this week had been kind of… nice. We watched TV together, read books and talked about them, and ate together. I enjoyed being around him. More than I had any man I’d ever known outside of family members. Why did the man of my romance book dreams have to be a former criminal who kidnapped me to send me off to a violent gang?

I stood in front of the mirror that morning, my curls wet around my shoulders as I applied the gel to my hair that Marcus had gotten for me.

Angie appeared by my side. “The truth will come out when it’s time for them to collect you.”

I glanced at her through the reflection in the mirror. “I feel like the beginning of that conversation was started in your head.”

She shrugged, hopping on the counter. “Any more oral visitations from the orc?”

“No.”

“Why not? At least one of us should be able to have some fun.”

“I’m more focused on wearing down the ward. And how’s it going getting help from your friends in ghost world?”

She sighed, kicking her feet out. “If it were going well, you’d be the first to know.”

I rolled my shoulders back, the agitation I tried my best to keep out creeping back in. “I’m going to get through this. We have to keep at it.” I exited the bathroom. “I’m going to work on the ward and then grab a bite.”

“Okay, lady!” Angie called after me. “Have your fun, Dar, just don’t get caught up. His being nice to you right now doesn’t mean he will do the right thing.”

She was right. I couldn’t forget that. Wouldn’t.

I thought about that as I worked on the balcony’s ward until suddenly, my hands pushed through the invisible wall, causing me to stumble forward onto the deck. I paused, holding my breath and waiting for the alarm to sound.

Nothing.

Perhaps the alarm was off. No, maybe it was only linked to the doors and not the balcony since I was so high up from my room. Cool wind brushed across my face, and I closed my eyes, holding in a giddy giggle.

I was free! Well, partially. There was another ward surrounding the grounds. I needed time to get through that ward. It had taken a week to get through this one without Marcus knowing. How was I going to sneak out to work on the next ward? Maybe when he was sleeping. Next question was how I would get through the alarm because there was no way I was jumping off the balcony.

“I think we both know what you have to do,” Angie called from behind me.

I spun around. “And what’s that?”

“Drug him. You have that spell.”

“He doesn’t trust me to cook for him, and he has to ingest the bespelled food or drink for it to work.”

Angie tapped her chin, squinting her eyes in thought. “Maybe you haven’t let your guard down, but perhaps he has. I mean the man licked your cooch and asked nothing in return. I think he likes you.”

I rolled my eyes. “Do you have to be so crass?”

Angie gave me a toothy smile. “Crass? Really? What are you? 80?”

I fell silent. She was right, he did seem to like me. Perhaps I could get him to trust me a bit more so that I could bespell something he ate. I felt a little guilty about that. If it didn’t work, he definitely wasn’t going to protect me, assuming he wasn’t lying to me all this time.

Angie narrowed her eyes. “Oh, no. Don’t go feeling guilty. Remember, he kidnapped you and he drugged you. As far as I’m concerned, this is just evening the score.”

When she put it like that… “Fine. Let me go figure out a way to drug an orc.”

***

“I want to bake something,” I announced later that day.

Marcus looked away from the TV, observant but neutral. He didn’t speak, so I took that as a sign that I needed to convince him. “I’m a baker. It’s what I do.”

He nodded slowly. “That makes sense. I have a lot of ingredients. Whatever I don’t have, I can get. What were you thinking?”

I mustered up my sweetest smile. “Sugar cookies.”

He cocked a brow, eyes playful. “Sounds delicious. I wouldn’t mind eating sugar cookies… again.”

I smooshed my cheeks together, feeling slightly embarrassed, or was that hot, from the memory of him lavishing my lower region. I huffed and began to gather the ingredients to bake. Just because he didn’t mind me cooking, it didn’t mean he would eat what I made. He could be all talk. That was going to have to be the next step.

As I blended the ingredients in a mixing bowl, I heard him walk up behind me. “Can I help?”

Of course, he’d want to help so he could make sure I wasn’t up to anything funny. I’d have to throw in a spell when I took it out of the oven then. “Ok, wash your hands. You can grease the pan and help me roll the dough in little balls. By the way, it was nice of you to get all of these ingredients. Very thoughtful in how you made your selection. But what’s the plan if we run out?”

He turned on the water and got the liquid soap to wash his hands. “I have enough here for another week, but if we have to stay a little longer, I’ll go get more groceries.”

“How long do you think we’ll be here?”

He dried his hands on a dish towel. “I don’t suspect it will be long before they come calling. They weren’t ready but couldn’t avoid the opportunity that my dumb brother gave them. This was killing two birds with one stone for them. But I'll go to them regardless if it takes too much longer. There’s a limit on how long my brother will survive with them.”

I began to roll the dough as he greased the baking sheet. “So, are you prolonging this rescue of him to teach him a lesson?”

He glanced over at me with a soft smile. “In part, but also, I have a plan, and it will take some time and resources. And I also like being with you.”

My heart skipped, genuinely delighted by his confession. Not that it would matter. I still had to drug him. How fate could be so cruel was beyond me. I pointed to the bowl of dough, needing a change of subject because flirting with him would be too distracting. “Tell me about your brother.”

Marcus took the hint and stood beside me as I began to put the first ball of dough on the pan. “Why so curious?”

“I’d like to know more about the man you whisked me away to save. Maybe I might feel better if I knew more about him. I’m just a baker; maybe your brother will do something amazing in the world, and it makes sense that I’m to be sacrificed.”

Marcus paused a small mound of dough in his large hands. His face was a conflicted mask of confusion and guilt. “One, you aren’t being sacrificed. Two, I’m about to disappoint you because my brother is no saint. I know I’ve mentioned that before.”

“If your family is wealthy, why would he be mixed up with thugs?”

He looked down at the dough and began to roll it before putting it on the tray. It looked more like a square than a ball and was larger than the other balls I’d already made, but I decided to let it go because it wasn’t like I would put it on display for purchase. “My family dynamics shifted when my older brother took power after my parents passed. He values usefulness more than blood. My younger brother benefited from our power and money, but he never had an interest in being part of that life. He was spoiled. He did whatever he wanted. Barely worked. He'd try to start businesses and side hustles but then get bored and let it fail. He was never dedicated to anything. When my older brother took power, he cut ties with Sam because he wouldn’t take anything seriously and he didn’t want him to continue to be a leech, as he called it. When that happened, Sam was lost. I tried my best to help him. Gave him money. Offered him a job at our shop. He couldn’t get it together. And he messed around with drugs, and that made it worse.”

Angie, who had been hovering around quietly until that moment, leaned into me. “What a loser. I can’t believe you could die for that screw up.”

I side-eyed her. “That’s not helping. Please go away.”

She raised her hands in surrender and walked into the living room, flopping on the sofa to watch TV.

Marcus eyed me curiously as he rolled another misshapen ball of cookie dough. “Angelica?”

I nodded, still having more on my mind. “Tell me, do you like your brother? I mean, clearly you love him, or you wouldn’t have done this. However, what do you like about him?”

He turned to me, a frown on his face. “I sounded like I hated him, didn’t I? I said nothing good about him.”

I quietly shook my head, hoping he would continue.

Marcus dropped his head. “Maybe it’s easier to be angry with him.”

I could see that. Knowing he was in such danger, it would probably hurt to tell me how much he cared for his brother. If something happened, maybe he thought it would make it less painful if he focused on Sam’s bad side.

“My brother has an innocent heart,” Marcus began. “He always was more sensitive. That’s why he couldn’t get into a life of crime. Used to piss my dad off and he gave up on him. He was always smart, though. Good in school. He has a college degree. He got lost once he finished and when my mother died. We all did him a disservice by not paying attention to him because we thought he was weak. My mom was the only one who seemed to care enough, and then she died, and he got off track. And the rest of us were too busy with our own messes to care about his. We all gave up trying, including him.”

I let out a breath and reached out a hand to touch him in some kind of comforting way, then realized my hand was sticky from the cookie dough, so I stopped myself. “Family relationships can be difficult. You can be mad at him, even estranged, and still want to ensure he’s okay.”

He put the last square of cookie dough on the tray. I looked at it forlornly before setting the tray in the preheated oven.

“You should be angrier,” Marcus began. “I know you’re mad and scared, but you’re still kind. Although I want it, I don’t deserve it. Why are you so positive?”

I set the timer, not surprised by his words. I’d gotten that before. I didn’t think I was especially nice, I just wasn’t disagreeable. That was mostly because I wasn’t great with people. I was a happy introvert, and my peace had been maintained until now by being such. “Positivity is my self-care. I lived around a lot of death. It gets sad. Also, people get scared around you when they know you can talk to the dead or attract the dead. They believe you’re bad luck. I went through a lot of teasing growing up. After a while, you just learn to find your happiness internally. I have low expectations of people, making it less painful if they do things I don’t like. Low expectations means never getting hurt.”

He studied me with a tilted head, a habit I was finding… adorable. “That’s sad, Daria.”

I shrugged as I walked to the sink to wash my hands. “Imagine how disappointed I’d be if I expected more from you?”

I felt the heat of him behind me, and I tried not to let it affect my body. The man was hot, literally and figuratively. He reached out on either side of me to wash his hands under the running facet, trapping me against his hard chest. “I won’t let you down going forward. You have my word. Although, I realize you won’t have any expectations with that.”

My body relaxed against him despite my best efforts to remain rigid. If I was so affected by him in this situation, who knew what it could be like to really be with him? In another world, in another life, this man could be everything my heart ever wanted. However, he was right; I wouldn’t have any expectations. I had to get out of this myself.

We continued to talk until the alarm for the cookies went off. I rushed to the kitchen to check on them and, thankfully, Marcus did not join me. I used that moment to whisper the spell. In all fairness, it wasn’t a bad spell. It would give him a peaceful nap and get him a little high. It’s a stupid one I learned with friends I shouldn’t have been around as a teen. That was a time I was still starving for friendship and to fit in.

I made sure to focus the spell over one half of the cookies, where my hand hovered over. I took an oven mitt out and placed the tray on the stove. I let them cool a bit, and when I thought they were not too hot to eat, I went back to the kitchen to grab them.

Marcus followed. “They smell good,” he stated. “Although not as good as you. Wonder if they’ll taste the same.”

My stomach did a dip, thinking instantly of that night. Guilt began to creep in. I stuffed a cookie in my mouth and offered him one from the drugged side. He took the cookie without hesitation, and I watched him devour it in two bites, the pit of my stomach sinking with remorse.

He raised his brows in approval. “Good, buttery and soft. My second favorite sugar cookie flavor.” He winked before grabbing two more and heading back to the couch.

His flirt game was top-notch. His taking all those cookies was going to be an interesting outcome. One could get you there. However, he was a large orc; three would do it if one weren’t enough.

I took another cookie so that he wouldn’t grow suspicious and went to sit down on the other end of the couch. I tried my best to sit relaxed, but I was on edge. What if he found out he was drugged? He would know it was me instantly.

I watched him from the corner of my eye as he ate and watched a sci fi series that we’d been binging. He slouched down further on the couch but did not fall asleep. His lids were heavy, but he wasn’t nodding off. Were three cookies not going to do it?

I stood up. “I’m going to get something to drink. Do you want another cookie or something to drink?”

He didn’t respond at first and then suddenly pointed at the TV, an angry look on his face. “What the hell is going on in this show?”

I wrinkled my brows; something was off with him. “Uh, I don’t know. You picked it, and this science fiction is going above my head. Something to do with a time lord who goes on adventures.”

He squinted his eyes, mouth slightly open. “What language are they speaking? Why aren’t we using captions?”

I blinked several times, confused, and then looked back at the TV. “English. They have British accents,” I replied carefully.

I wasn’t sure he heard me and carefully walked backward to the kitchen.

I heard Angie laughing beside me. “Oh, he is seriously fucked up. I thought you were supposed to pass out first, then feel high.”

“It’s been a while; maybe I got it backward,” I whispered back.

I poured myself a glass of water and sipped as I watched Marcus mutter to himself.

He suddenly sat up straight, a look of alarm on his face. “Oh shit!”

Panic struck me, and I gripped my glass of water tighter. Had he figured it out? “What?”

He looked to the left and then to the right. “I forgot,” he said and then plopped back against the couch, a concerned look on his face. “But also, why is there a dancing bear behind you? And why is it missing pants? It should be the other way around; it’s not hiding anything that way. Move away from that pervert, Daria.” He waved his hand as if to tell me to come closer.

I knew there was no dancing, pants-less bear behind me, but to be sure, I turned around. Empty, as expected. When I turned back to look at Marcus, he was bobbing his head to an imaginary beat, forgetting all about the invisible danger he had thought I was in a moment ago.

“Do you, uh, hear music?” I asked, my voice trembling with the need to laugh.

“You know that pants-free bear is inappropriate, but at least it plays good music.”

I heard Angie's loud laughter in my ear. “Oh, this is amazing.”

Marcus began to unbuckle his pants, and I panicked, waving my hands in front of me. I didn’t need him getting horny and out of control right now. Perhaps I didn’t think this out very well. “What are you doing?”

“Maybe there’s something to my pants-less friend. It’s freeing.”

I scratched my cheek, staring at him in confusion. “What is his fixation with dancing Winnie the Pooh ?”

“I bet he has a hidden tattoo of him,” Angie surmised.

I tilted my head and looked him over, wondering where it could be. I’d seen his chest, arms, back, and legs and didn’t recall anything there, but I might have got lost in all his other tattoos. Maybe his ass. That would be cute. And I was distracting myself with inappropriate thoughts now. I blamed Angie.

I suddenly heard the ring of a cell phone, and I found relief in that.

Marcus felt through his pants and pulled out the phone. Perhaps I didn’t need to try to run away. If he was high, maybe I could get the phone and call for help.

“Yep,” he answered. He rolled his eyes, tossing his head to the back of the couch. “She’s still here. I’m not too fond of these checkups. You’re ruining my vibe.” He looked at me and made a mocking talk sign with his hand. “Let me do things how I want, man. Meanwhile, how’s my brother?” He closed his eyes. Was he falling asleep? I held my breath, but his eyes fluttered open. “Good. Keep him safe, or neither one of us is going to be happy. Bye, bitch.”

He pressed his phone off and tossed it to the other side of the couch. He closed his eyes again. Angie and I both stood quietly, watching him for what felt like minutes.

“Is he sleeping?” Angie began.

He popped open his eyes and looked at me with heavy lids. Angie yelped beside me. “You got me fucked up, girl,” he stated, trying to sit up before falling back to what appeared to be sleep.

It was safe to say that even high he realized that I had drugged him. He would be really pissed when he sobered up. I had to get out of here

“He scared the shit out of me,” Angie stated. “He’s got to be asleep now, right?”

I covered my mouth, and we stared at him again for a while. I finally grew courage and carefully walked over to him. “Marcus?” I called. No response. I pressed his shoulder, then tapped his face. I needed him to be knocked out.

“Time to get moving,” Angie began. “No telling when he’ll get conscious.”

I would have to drag him to the guest room and ward him in. I grabbed him by the feet and yanked him down, wincing when he hit the floor. “I’m sorry.” I began to drag him toward the kitchen, in the direction of the guest room. My back, arms, and legs screamed in protest and I was pretty sure I pulled something. I was scared to try to stand up straight afterwards. This guy was built of stones. “I pray I can walk normal again after this. Why can’t you help me?”

Angie shrugged, walking alongside my dragging. She was holding the phone, so I guess she was doing her menial part. “One of the perks of being dead, you can’t touch other bodies. Now move a little faster, no telling when he’ll wake up. The phone’s locked, and it looks like a burner phone. Wonder if we call 911 if they can trace it.”

“No idea. Try it”

She nodded in dialed the numbers, then frowned. “Nothing. How the hell is that possible? Even locked phones let you dial 911, right?”

“Yeah,” I grunted. “He really did think of everything. I do not know what kind of magic or tech would allow that.”

I finally got him to the guest room. We made quick work of tying him to the bed with bedsheets. We knew it wouldn’t hold him, but it would slow him down. When I was done, still hunched over more than I would have liked from dragging him, I paused at the doorway and muttered a ward spell that he’d likely find a way past. He really was a professional. I wanted to panic; I could feel the sickening urgency twist my gut, but I pushed against it, inhaling deeply. I had another option, and I had to keep going. All was not lost. “I guess we have to work on that other ward then.”

“Think you can?”

I shrugged. “No clue. It took me a week to break a ward that would have taken a witch a matter of hours at most. I can’t say how strong my warding gifts are.” I quickly raced down the steps to the door and paused. “Crap, I forgot about the alarm.”

Angie began to tap in numbers on the pad. “I watched him put in the numbers when he went to his car for something. Plus, this alarm isn’t going to the cops. That wouldn’t serve him, so it wouldn’t matter if it went off unless we can get the next ward down. I’m betting that’s also blocking sound and sight.”

I had no doubt she was right, and I wasted no time opening the front door. The shock of the outside air once again stopped me for a minute. I breathed in deeply, smelling the ocean only feet away. The breeze cooled my skin. I shook free of my trance and ran past the parked SUV on the driveway to the right to the end of the fenced-in front lawn. There was a white picket fence and everything. The grass was neatly trimmed, and I could hear the sounds of life all around me. People were talking, kids were shouting, music was playing, cars were driving, and dogs were barking. There was a world going on while I was trapped.

It was still light out, late afternoon or early evening. We were at the end of a street that led out to a main road on the far right and the beach on the left. The salt in the air from the ocean called to me. I wanted to run to it, escape. But my hands slapped against the invisible wall. How long would this take to get down? I didn’t have a week. If the gang called again and Marcus didn’t answer, they would kill his brother. I could drug the food I fed Marcus while he was trapped in the room. He was an orc; breaking wards wasn’t his ability. I just had to get the food through the ward without breaking it, which would be tricky. Overall, I wasn’t sure how long I could keep him locked in a room. It was crueler than my setup.

I sat down on the ground and began to push my magic through, reciting my ward-breaking spell as I’d done before.

Hours passed, I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that the sun was setting and I still, unsurprisingly, had made no leeway on the ward. I was getting tired, but I didn’t want to give up. Part of it was because I didn’t have the time I had before. Most of it was because I hated to see Marcus after drugging him. It felt like a betrayal, although I logically knew I didn’t owe him any loyalty.

I sighed, standing up. “I should grab a quick bite and get back to it. My energy is waning, and whatever magic I have in my system will be done until I eat. Plus, it’s been a couple hours, I should see if he’s awake. He’s going to be so pissed.”

Angie, who had been sitting beside me being unhelpful but at least entertaining, nodded in agreement. “Which is why you should come to him with food. Drugged food so you can keep him in a loopy state.”

I bared my teeth, unsettled by that option. I wanted freedom, but a nagging emotion didn’t like the idea of getting him in trouble. This was so conflicting.

Angie lifted a shoulder. “I know you don’t like it, but we don’t have another option. His phone wouldn’t let us call 911.”

BAM! We heard a door slam open, and my heart nearly leaped to my throat in fear. I spun around to see a very angry-looking Marcus standing at the front door. His long hair partially covered his face, his blue eyes dark and menacing, and his lips fixed in a silent snarl. He looked large and imposing, hands gripping the door frame, nails digging into the wood, which he almost had to bend under to get through. I was quickly reminded that he was a killer. Someone who knew exactly how to hurt people and get the job done. He no longer looked like the sweet awkward guy at the café or the gentle giant from earlier. I had poked the bear.

I had made a damn mistake.

My heart sped up, threatening to rip through my chest, every muscle in my body froze, and sweat pooled under my armpits and dripped down my spine. He certainly had thought of everything, like how to get sober and break a freaking ward.

He pointed at me. “You, stay right there!”

He hadn’t used his alpha voice, which had the usual effect of forcing an omega to comply. I thanked God for tiny miracles, let out a high-pitched scream, and ran like I was being chased by wild dogs.