Page 2 of Loved By The Orc (Monster Orc Brides #4)

Two years later in the trading town of Creede:

“… AND THAT brINGS me to why I requested our friends and family come to this wonderful trading town of Creede. I hereby proclaim my last mating for two little girls who insisted that one day they wanted me to force two males in my clan to take them. A grandfather can’t help but listen.

So, it is hereby announced that my eldest grandchildren are hereby mated this day.

Bakog, to the precious Shalia. And Tok, to the beautiful Hisa.

Males, my word is final. Do your best with what the clueless orc gods dealt you. ”

Brachard, King of the West Mountain orcs, is silent after that proclamation and next to me, his grand-daughters, Shalia and Hisa, start giggling.

The entire ceremony, based on a human wedding, is rather ridiculous and I start laughing along with my childhood playmates.

“Great Goddess Metanya,” I swear to Shalia. “Did he really just side with the males and tell Bakog and Tok they’re shit out of luck?”

“He did.” Hisa grins from the other side of Shally.

“To be fair, they are,” Shalia agrees.

Shalia had been abducted by a rogue clan and her memory was just becoming normal after several moons.

It seemed they’d hit her in the head to knock her out.

They were dead now, two of the males by her hand, and the other three by Brachard’s rule once they were captured.

This visit to the trading town of Creede was to re-introduce her to the market we’ve grown up with…

and obviously, to allow Brachard to mate Shalia and Hisa to the males they’ve loved since childhood.

While Tok and Bakog come to claim their brides, my father comes to claim me. There is no male for me, and never shall be.

But just then I notice an orc—a stranger—dressed in the clothing of the Southpeak clan. It isn’t very often we do business with them, but that isn’t the reason why I stare.

He has a cruel, handsome face. Sharp cheekbones, and his bottom lip is fuller than the top.

A narrow nose, slightly off-kilter, like it’s been broken.

And while the flaw should make him unattractive, instead it shows strength and character.

It makes him interesting. His tusks gleam brighter than most, which shows he hasn’t been exposed to rich, staining foods. Or, he cares about his hygiene.

He’s a striking male and he’s fixated on me too. The entire world disappears and we’re the only two left. We stare for endless moments and a zip of awareness charges through me, an ancient knowledge that I know this male… or I did. In another life, mayhap.

Then my father tugs my hand and I tear my attention from the stranger. Father leans down to place his forehead to mine and whispers, though with all the clamoring going on around us, I doubt anyone can hear.

“Ahh, my sweet, ‘tis one day I shall be in Brachard’s shoes, I imagine. Giving my precious brat to a male who doesn’t deserve her.”

“Nay, daddy,” I say, using the human word as I tear my focus from the intriguing orc. Many summers I spent with Hisa and Shally, who are both half-human, and with my father’s friend, Joanna, who is full human. English slang is as familiar to me as orcish. “I only have eyes for you.”

He sighs. “I know. You and me against the world. I’m a hard male to live up to. But one day, sweet pea, you shall want a family. Brats to call your own and mayhap a smelly old brute to warm your furs. ”

He’s smacked upside the head by Shalia’s mom, Joanna. “You did not just tell her males would be old and smelly! No wonder this child wants to remain in her father’s house,” she chides, then hugs me tight. “Negan, my love, look at Bak. At Tok. They haven’t yet smelled.”

“Give them a few more years, Joanna,” my father huffs. “You know I keep no secrets from my brat. I mean, look at your own male. Don’t tell me he doesn’t stink.”

My Uncle Latsil narrows his eyes. With the deep scars that cover him, he looks terrifying, but my uncle has the heart of a marshmallow.

“It doesn’t matter,” I say, winking at my uncle to soothe his ruffled feathers. “I have no intentions of mating. Not ever.”

They all know I have my mother’s genes in me. At the one and only pregnancy she had, she dropped me off at my father’s doorstep and left. I’d never turn my back on a wee helpless brat, so I’ll make sure there are none by avoiding the male seed.

Not that I have them breaking down my doors. But at least in Solaya, I have access to Mag’s tea to prevent pregnancy. Though, admittedly, it’s been a long while since I’ve needed it. Mayhap I need to replace the jar I have. Surely its potency is expired.

Next to us, Bakog speaks loudly, introducing Shalia to someone. I’m barely aware of when he tugs my arm to get my attention. “And this is Negan. Her father, Oshin, with the Blackheart clan. This is Varguk of the Southpeaks.”

Varguk is his name. The intriguing stranger.

My heart thuds in my chest when he turns his focus to me. He’s just as striking up close. Bigger, and stronger. There isn’t an ounce of fat on him, just pure muscle.

“Southpeaks?” My father studies the male. “I heard your clan helped bring Shalia’s abductors to captivity.”

“Aye. Rogues hiding in our territory. We handed them over.”

That deep, panty-melting voice makes me whip my head around like I’m possessed.

And hoo-boy, but what a body is attached to the voice.

Rugged features, pure male. He’s massive, six and a half feet, his muscles look as if they’re honed with a sharpened blade, his brows heavy and winged.

He’s moved closer now and his nearness makes my mouth go dry.

His eyes are deep, dark glistening pools fixated on… me.

That doesn’t happen too often around my father.

My father is protective and rightly so. The males of our clan are cutthroat.

Vicious. They’re wary of my father, who spends a third of his time with the West Mountain orcs.

Our clan isn’t quite sure of the relationship there, but after a war between us and West Mountain that took out two-thirds of the population years before I was born, they don’t want to attempt another conflict. Not with Brachard in charge.

And King Brachard has made it clear that I’m a bonus goddaughter to him, no matter my clan.

I think when I became a teenager, some males started to look at me with a glimmer of interest which was quickly dispelled by my father’s scowls.

He became more violent, coming home bruised from battles.

Bruised from hunting. Bruised from any activity.

Despite his protests, I knew he was challenging males who dared to look my way.

I knew his plan when he mentioned giving me a haircut.

Said my hair would grow thicker and faster.

Like pruning herbs, he said. He cut it while braided, which left it lopsided.

The more he tried to prune it, the worse it became.

I assured him that I loved the freedom of short hair.

I did. It kept my father from fighting. Shortly after that, he made sure I spent every summer at Solaya with the West Mountain orcs instead of just a month or two.

Winters in our village weren’t so bad. They were cold and we all bundled up.

You couldn’t tell males from females in the winter.

And I never stayed home alone. I always hunted alongside him.

“Negan, my love,” Rosemary says, moving from congratulating Hisa and Shalia to me. “How beautiful you look! I swear that Joanna is magical with her sewing machine.”

I stand a little taller, looking down at my fanciful skirts. “Isn’t she? ”

“Rosemary,” my father says, his eyes narrowed into slits. “’Tis a shame Shalia won’t be staying the summer with you. Not now that she’s mated, aye?”

“It seems she’ll want her handsome mate over her old aunt,” Rosemary agrees.

“Mayhap Negan can keep you company for a few weeks instead,” he says.

“Papa?” I ask, confused. He’s never made any mention of it.

“Help you out in the store.” He waves his arm around. “Sew. Whatever it is you females do.”

“I’d love that,” Rosemary says softly, looking at me expectantly as if she wants to hear my choice.

Then I realize what my father’s doing. Rosemary probably feels guilty that Shalia was taken from here. Probably feels like somehow it’s her fault that something bad happened on her watch and this is his way of letting her know she’s still trusted by orcs as well as humans.

“I’d like to,” I say, but turn to my father. “But what will you do?”

“Mayhap help out in Solaya. They have cabins to build for all the new couples.”

“Aye,” calls out Brachard. “And a new, secret project.” Then blurts out what it is. “A plumbing system. Like the hotel.”

Everyone looks suitably impressed, but I don’t say what I think.

My father is excited to see Mont Grove, the real West Mountain orc headquarters.

A location where they live during the winters.

‘Tis a great honor for an outsider to see it and such an honor that my father won’t be able to reveal to anyone but me that he’s been there.

Would totally be possible for others to torture him for the whereabouts of the headquarters.

“I’ll keep ye safe,” Rosemary whispers. “This I promise, dear Negan. See, I’ve hired a guard a few weeks ago. I’m sure he’ll promise to stay on a few more weeks to make sure my precious niece is safe. ”

She turns to point out a Southpeak orc in the crowd, who nods, and makes his way over, his gaze never leaving mine. His eyes are dark pools of ink and for the briefest moment, excitement squirms in my belly. He seems familiar. I’m not sure why; I’ve never seen this orc in my life.

Then it dawns on me. He has the same eyes as Varguk, the one Bakog just introduced me to. The giddiness inside me dissipates.

“Aye, milady. I shall guard your beautiful niece with my life,” the Southpeak says.

He reaches for my hand, bowing as if he’d like to kiss it.

I stiffen, wanting to pull it away, to protest, because there’s something about this male that prickles my unease.

I’m not sure how to do that with Rosemary looking so pleased with herself.

“He’s not to be trusted,” Varguk hisses loudly, and everyone freezes. Varguk turns to look directly at Bakog. “You asked if family members could be trusted to turn in their own if one of your females was in danger, correct? Back when you were looking for your mate’s abductors?”

“Are you calling yourself my brother? Because your mother wasn’t a Southpeak queen. She was a river rat who seduced a king,” the stranger snarls.

Brothers, then.

“A king who slept between her thighs.” Varguk shrugs but just the fact that he’s uncaring about his parentage tells me how much it must hurt.

It hurts in the line of his shoulders, built to enormous proportions to protect himself from scathing words.

The enormous chest, built to enormous proportions to protect his heart.

There’s no denying what the brother meant. The similarities between him and the other are apparent. The king created both sons and mayhap one son was from a queen, and the other? Was not.

“A king who will cast aside his mistake when he realizes you aren’t fit to rule.

Because right now, I earned the job of guarding a fair maiden”—he leans in to whisper— “the princess who straddles two powerful clans. Blackheart and West Mountain.” His eyes cut to me and I fight a shiver that spears down my spine.

How can eyes so beautiful look so cruel?

“You’ll stay away from her,” Varguk says. “After all, the West Mountain orcs owe me a boon. Don’t you, Prince Bakog?” he says loudly enough for Bakog to look our way.

A boon ? Me? For a second, silence follows his words while it sinks in. Bakog offered me as a boon? There would only be one reason for him to do so and she’s standing next to him, newly mated. One of my best friends—he would have wanted to find his mate during the time she was kidnapped.

No one doubts Varguk’s words.

Then, with my father’s bellow, all hell breaks loose.