Page 14 of Loved By The Orc (Monster Orc Brides #4)

“After Latsil returned and still defended her, King Brachard ordered a second mate brought into his marriage. His reasoning was that Tavri, the first mate, refused to have a child. ‘Twas quite the sacrilege to not continue the line for the now-proclaimed Kingslayer. Despite not wanting to have another mate, Latsil didn’t go against his king’s wisdom.

The new mate, Vinshesa, killed Tavri for her betrayal and then left the mateship as if it had been planned all along by his childhood friend.

Latsil was devastated. He was left broken-hearted once again, this time to mourn his mate.

But then he met Joanna. And all those bitter old wounds were cleared away like magic.

Of course, having met Joanna, you can see how easily that happens.

Which is exactly why Oshin wanted his daughter to grow up around Joanna’s magic touch. ”

“It worked well then. Because Negan is perfect. She’s strong and smart. Gorgeous, fair—”

“And she has a vicious side,” Rosemary says. “She needs it to live within the Blackheart clan. But you know what’s amazing? She can turn it off at will. The sweet girl you see here? It’s the same sweet girl she is in Solaya. But in the Blackheart territory, she fights alongside her father.”

“She shouldn’t have to fight—” I start.

But Rosemary holds up a hand. “You’re missing the point.

Her father doesn’t change her and she doesn’t change anyone.

She’s accepted the way she is. It may be your job to protect her.

But there’s a fine line between protection and accepting her for who she is.

Allowing her to be all that she can be. She will love you that much harder if you don’t smother her. ”

And I think I understand what this wise old human is trying to say. She’s trying to get me to understand a long-term picture, not just urges for today.

“Look at you two, up bright and early,” a husky voice says from behind us .

My heart roars to life, thumping inside my chest, at her presence. I turn and take in the sight.

There’s never been a more beautiful female to grace the Earth.

Her hair is full. Unbraided from sleep. Her cheeks are flushed darker than the rest of her skin.

Her eyes are soft. Her lips full and pouty.

Kissable. Just like she kisses the rose I left on her nightstand, then twirls it between her fingers.

But it’s the look in her eyes that is the loveliest of all. The awareness of us . The remembrance of the magic that we will soon share.

“Come sit down, beautiful. I’ll get you this”—I peer down at the brown and cream liquid in my cup— “toffee.”

“Coffee,” Rosemary says. “And I’ll get it.” She gets up before anyone can say anything else. “Was telling Varguk here about when you were a baby. How your dad became friends with the West Mountains.”

Negan smiles softly as I tug her next to me and press a kiss to her cheek.

I linger, smelling the sweet scent of her hair.

I don’t care what Rosemary and Paul know about what occurred between us.

All I know is I have limited time to let her know what it could have been like between us.

What it might still be like if I can keep her safe from my own clan.

That I would sacrifice myself to keep her safe.

“So,” Rosemary says, “I thought you two might like to go get some shopping done. I’d like to make roast chicken tonight.

I’ve got the vegetables to pull from the garden and just need a few things from the butcher.

Oh, maybe we can trade some vegetables with Mrs. Scarinth for some of those berries she grows? I’ll make a pie.”

She sets a plate in front of Negan with some of the sweet treat.

“You made spice cake!” Negan says, getting the fork and dipping it into the glistening blob of cream. She spears a bit of the cake and then brings the bite to my mouth.

“I have my own,” I protest .

“And you can have my first bite,” she says, not relenting until I accept.

I open up and… delicious. A hint of sweetness and an array of spices in a vanilla base warms my tongue.

“Delicious,” I tell her. “I know why it’s your favorite.”

“I look forward to it every time I come.”

Rosemary heads into the laundry room and runs water.

“She’s washing my clothing,” I hiss.

“Aye, let her. She loves to take care of others, orc. Let her care for you too.”

“I’m a full-grown male. I should be taking care of her.”

“We will,” Negan promises. “We’ll do her shopping and help her with dinner tonight. The cleanup. It will all balance. You’ll see.”

My mind is blown by how humans work. And how Negan thinks like a human herself.

“I’ll go get dressed,” she says. “Want to wash dishes while I’m gone?”

I nod. It will keep me occupied so I don’t think of her naked body.

The kitchen is sparkling clean by the time Rosemary turns the corner. She looks surprised, then smiles hugely.

“Ahh, boy, thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

I nod. “You didn’t have to wash my clothing.”

She grins. “’Tis hanging to dry. You and Negan heading out?”

“Aye. She’s changing.”

“Good, good.” The old female smiles broadly, her cheeks flaking at the corners from the crinkling.

I eye her curiously. “How long is that concoction supposed to stay on your face?”

Her eyes grow huge. “Eek! Not long enough to turn to cement!” The woman races for the bathroom .

Negan laughs as she comes down the hallway, pausing to yell through the bathroom door. “Left it on too long again? Don’t forget to slather on the aloe, Auntie.”

She joins me as chuckling comes from inside the bathroom.

“Come, beautiful. Let’s be on our way.”

Negan hoists a giant bag onto her shoulder as we make our way outside. She carefully locks the door behind us, tucking the key into an inner pocket. I take her hand as we stroll down the driveway.

I’m alert for any signs of danger—any signs from my father’s guard—as we make our way through the edge of the woods and into town.

I feel the warmth of her hand when her palm presses to mine, threading her fingers. I bring her hand up to my mouth for a kiss.

“The market is quite different now. We call it a mall,” Negan says sheepishly.

“Back in the early days, it was held outside in the open fields. Then Abigail bargained for the orcs to build her aunt a sort of cabin to house her goods and all the other vendors followed suit. It means we can open the market in other weather besides summer.”

We browse each stand. All the merchants greet Negan by name with a huge smile. She is well-liked. She never drops my hand, as if the female is proud of me.

For the first time in my life, I’m respected by being with someone. This gorgeous person has elevated my status. She doesn’t need my protection. I need hers.

By the time we gather our goods and begin the trek back, she notices my somber mood.

“Don’t think too much, Var. Just live. One day at a time.”

“What life are we living? One where I get to be your guard for the moment, and in a moon we shall part ways?”

“Let’s taste a life where the future could be ours. As if we are already mates. We can think about life a moon from now on another day.”

“You would… want to be mated to me? A Southpeak? ”

“I would. So let’s have a taste of that. From now on, even though you’ll be sleeping in that dreaded wagon each night, let’s pretend we belong to each other, aye?”

I nod, just as Rosemary comes out of the back door of the house.

“You’re back,” Aunt Rosemary greets. She has a basket of laundry in her arms and another one lines the porch.

I move forward to take it from her arms. “Give me that.”

“Aunt Rosemary, we’ll hang the wash. Varguk was just telling me how much fun he has learning about human things.”

“More than likely he didn’t mean chores,” the old woman protests.

“Aye, I did.” I wink at her. “With your skin glowing so lovely”—in fact, it does not, it is slightly reddened from her concoction this morn— “you should go visit your mate. We can take care of the laundry and get dinner started.”

“Oh, I couldn’t—”

“Of course you could.” Negan waggles her eyebrows. “Go grab your purse. We got this.”

“Well, okay,” she says. “And Var, I did a little work in your wagon for you. Added a fluffier pillow and a topper for that hard mattress—”

“I am a guard, female.” I smile to take the sting out of my words. “I cannot protect the house if you have me coddled like a brat in blankets.”

“Pssh.” She snorts. “I like you, boy. And Neegie likes you. Have to protect your back.”

Then the old female does something that stuns me to silence. She thrusts her hips forward, then winks and turns to head into the house.

“Ignore her.” Negan giggles. “A bad back does not lead to poor sexual performance.”

“That old woman is a handful. Now, show me what to do with these clothes.” I set the basket on a tree stump like it’s a table.

“There are a whole set of rules,” Negan says.

“First, always wipe the lines before use.” She takes a damp rag, sprays it with the bottle of vinegar, and runs it along a wire, walking down the length.

Then she wipes the second line, walking back up the length to get to the end, and passes it to me to do the next two.

I mimic her, walking down the length of one and back up the other. Then, I toss the rag onto the front porch to take inside when we’re done. “Next?”

“Shirts are hung from the bottom, never the shoulders. Socks are hung from the toes.”

I take a shirt and use the pincher clips to attach the bottom of the shirt to the line. I attach another next to it. “Like that?” I say proudly.

“Almost.” Negan leans over, removes a set of clips from one end and pushes the edges of the shirts together so they can share a clip.

I scowl.

She giggles, standing on tiptoe to kiss me. “It’s okay, growly. I didn’t tell you the clothing can share a clothespin.”

“Maybe you should tell me all the rules upfront,” I grumble, mostly so she’ll kiss my crankiness away.

The sparkle in her eye tells me she knows exactly what I’m doing.

“The colors are separated and hung together. Whites with whites. Darks with darks. Reds with reds, and so on and so forth. That way, the colors don’t bleed if you hang the edges together.

Large items like towels and sheets are hung on the outside lines so no one sees Aunt Rosemary’s unmentionables hanging on the inside lines. ”

I let out a bark of laughter. “I’m not hanging your aunt’s bras and panties.”

She winks slyly. “But you have the whites basket, handsome. I have the darks.” She proceeds to hang my own clothing on the line.

I narrow my eyes at her. I will show her that I can be an equal-partner mate. “Challenge accepted.”

I take a white human bra—relieved that our females skip the bizarre contraptions for the stretchy band instead—and remember the rules of hanging socks toe-first. Not that this piece has a toe but…

I gu ess the ends are a bottom. Either end will do and then I don’t have to handle the cups that fondle the old woman’s breasts.

So, I clip them onto the outer line by the ends, the cups poking outward into the air like missiles.

Negan is busy holding back a giggle because I avoid touching anything but the ends where a metal clasp resides. I’m distracted, already thinking ahead and worrying about hanging the old woman’s panties. The garments that touch her… parts.

“Our females don’t wear these,” I mention casually, eyeing my masterpiece of three bras attached to the line.

She snorts. “Shalia, Hisa, and I used to prance around wearing Aunt Jo’s and Aunt Hannah’s.

Nothing filled them back then. We became wiser as we got older and really needed them, we just used a compression band for exercise and went without for the rest of the time.

Now, how are you going to hang the panties? ”

“Not sure yet,” I mutter, staring at the bras still.

“By the crotch, normally.” Her voice holds a hint of laughter.

“No way, female. Not touching them there unless they’re yours.”

Biting the bullet, I close my eyes and reach for one, the thin fabric delicate between my rough fingers. I hang it from the end of the waist, then share a pin with the next edge so there’s a row of panties, neat as can be.

“Not bad.” I smirk.

“You did good, orc,” she says, wrapping her arms around me. “Shall we go get dinner started?”

“Mmm,” I agree, dropping my hand to caress the sweet peach of her ass.

She winks and then bends over to pick up the empty baskets. My throat goes dry. Goddess, a rush of blood hits my cock, hardening it at the image of Negan backside up.

Doggy-style .

“Son-of-a-biernak!” The expletive falls from my mouth and she grins, letting me know her ass in the air was on purpose.

“You’ll drive me crazy,” I mutter.

“All I can think about is humping the muscles of your thigh like a dog in heat,” she admits.

Goddess, what an image that gives me.

I drop the laundry baskets back inside the washroom and we head into the kitchen to wash the produce and meat we’ve picked up.

We joke and nudge each other out of the way as we chop and prepare. She doesn’t mind how clumsy I am at cutting vegetables.

“’Tis women’s work in my clan,” I grumble.

“You’ll learn,” she teases.

“Are you good at everything you do?”

“Aye.” She waggles her eyebrows.

“You’re torturing me.”

“It’s been a wonderful day,” Negan says. “I hope tomorrow will be just as wonderful.”

“It will be, sweet.”

She looks up at the sky. “’Tis going to rain soon. Mayhap you should sleep inside—”

I scoff. “Perfect time for the enemy to hit, eh? When the rain hits and I’m coddled in your warm bed.”

She has the audacity to giggle. “At least let me know you’re safe during rainy nights. Ping a pebble against my window so I know you’re safe.”

“Come here,” I growl, tugging her against me and sealing my mouth to hers.

“Mmm,” she moans, until we break away, panting. “Wicked orc. Let’s get dinner started and mayhap I’ll let you finger me, aye?”

“Aye,” I agree. “And if I ping a pebble against your window, it means open up.”