Page 8 of Marked by the Scarred Orc (Heat & Ink #6)

“Come on, Sterling,” I say, getting out and grabbing his carrier. I decide to leave the overnight bag until I’m more certain of Harkin’s intentions. “Let’s see what kind of life our orc is really living.”

The front door opens before I can even knock, and Harken fills the doorway, looking completely at ease in his palatial surroundings.

He wears dark jeans and his chest is bare again and shows off his tattooed arms. He’s barefoot this time, which somehow makes him seem more approachable despite the intimidating backdrop.

He looks me up and down, his eyes lingering on my form-fitting blue wrap dress and then back up to meet my gaze. “You found it,” he says, and I can hear pleasure in his voice.

“You live here ?” I ask, unable to keep the shock out of my voice.

His brow furrows slightly. “Is there a problem?”

“This place is huge. It’s like…it’s like a mansion.”

“It’s just a human domicile,” he says, looking genuinely confused by my reaction. “I liked the general location so put up with the enormity of this home to get this spot.”

Sterling chooses that moment to let out an indignant yowl from his carrier, reminding us both that he’s being held prisoner.

“And you must be Sterling,” Harken says, his attention immediately shifting to the carrier. “Should we let him out?”

“He’s going to want to explore,” I warn. “He likes to sniff around and claim territory.”

“Good. I’d like him to feel at home here.”

The casual way he says it, like he’s already planning for Sterling to be a regular visitor, makes my heart warm in my chest.

I set the carrier down in the massive foyer and open the tiny door.

Sterling emerges with regal dignity, completely ignoring both Harken and me as he begins his inspection of the premises.

His tail is up, his whiskers are forward, and he moves with the confidence of a cat who’s never met a space he couldn’t conquer.

Meanwhile, I’m trying not to gape at my surroundings.

The foyer alone is bigger than my entire living room.

The floors are polished hardwood that gleam under a chandelier that looks like it belongs in a palace.

A curved staircase with wrought-iron railings leads to what I assume is a second floor, and through an archway, I can see into what looks like a living room that could host a small wedding.

“How do you afford this place?” I blurt out, then immediately regret being so blunt.

But Harken doesn’t seem offended. If anything, he looks amused. “Orcs have always been wealthy,” he says simply. “We just don’t use human banking systems.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll explain later. First, let me show you around while Sterling conducts his inspection.”

He leads me through the house, and with each room, my amazement grows.

The living room has a ceiling that soars two stories high, with a stone fireplace that I could literally walk into.

The furniture is clearly expensive but comfortable.

There are oversized leather couches and chairs that look like they were made for someone of Harken’s size.

The color scheme is white walls and light furniture with dark accents of iron and wood.

“I hired a human decorator,” he explains when he catches me staring at a coffee table that’s probably worth more than my car. “I told him I needed furniture for an orc, and he said he understood exactly what I meant.”

We move into the kitchen and it’s like something out of a magazine. There are white cabinets on top and black cabinets below. Gleaming granite countertops, stainless steel appliances, and an island bigger than my entire apartment kitchen.

Sterling has found the last patch of late afternoon sunlight streaming through a window and claims it as his own, settling down to wash his paws.

“He approves,” I say, nodding toward my spoiled cat.

“Good. His opinion matters to you, so it matters to me.”

We continue the tour. He shows me a dining room with a table that could seat twelve, a library with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, a home office with state-of-the-art equipment, and what he casually refers to as “a few guest bedrooms.”

“A few?” I ask as we climb the stairs.

“Five,” he says, like it’s perfectly normal to have five spare bedrooms.

“Why do you need five guest bedrooms? Do you have a lot of visitors?”

“No, no visitors yet.” He pauses on the landing, looking genuinely puzzled by the question. “I don’t know why there are that many extra bedrooms. The decorator said I should have them.”

I can’t help but laugh. “You accidentally bought a mansion?”

“I bought this house because it has privacy and space,” he corrects.

“The decorator just filled it with furniture. Honestly, it’s true that it’s too much space for one orc.

I’ve lived here for a week now and I don’t understand why humans enjoy living alone in this much unused space.

I mostly live in the kitchen, my bedroom and that office. ”

Yeah, he accidentally bought a mansion.

Harkin shows me the primary bedroom, and I have to bite back a gasp.

It’s enormous, with a bed that could fit four people and another fireplace and a sitting area and windows that look out over acres of perfectly manicured grounds.

The walk-in closet is the stuff of dreams and the bathroom is like something from a fancy hotel.

“How much land do you have?” I ask.

“Twenty acres. Most of it is wooded. This is why I picked this location. It’s reasonably close to town but has plenty of privacy. I wasn’t sure how I would feel living and working amongst so many humans, so I purchased a home that was more isolated.”

Twenty acres. Wow. And meanwhile I’m simply thrilled that I make enough money where I don’t need roommates anymore and can live on my own in a one-bedroom apartment.

“Where does all this money come from?” I ask as we head back downstairs, because I have to know what I’m getting myself into.

“The orcs in the part of north America nearest Maine and Canada, lived in caves for centuries, and those caves were rich with gold and gems. When we were forced to leave after the earthquake, we brought our wealth with us.”

“Earthquake?”

“A massive one, hundreds of years ago. The entire mountain system shifted, and our caves became uninhabitable. We had to evacuate and find new places to live. This is when we started to build and live in communes.”

“That must have been traumatic.”

“It was. Many of our artifacts and historical sites were lost. But we salvaged what we could, including our ancestral wealth.”

“And you all just…carry gold around?”

He shrugs. “We convert it to human currency when we need to, but we don’t trust banks. We prefer to keep our wealth in forms we can control.”

“Like real estate.”

“Exactly. And there’s also a very large safe in my basement.”

“Oh.”

We’ve made our way back to the living room, where Sterling has relocated to claim the most expensive-looking chair as his new throne. He’s sprawled across it like he owns the place, and when he sees us watching him, he starts purring.

“I think he’s decided to move in,” I say.

“He’s welcome to live here, as is his owner,” Harken says.

“Harken…”

“I know this domicile is very large, but I thought this is just how humans live, I didn’t know that it was something a future bride might dislike,” he says, seeming to read my thoughts.

“I thought you were a struggling tattoo artist and I was perfectly fine at the thought of us both needing to work hard for a living.”

“It’s true, the tattoo work is something I love, not something I need for income. I could live for several lifetimes without needing to work.”

“Then why do you work?”

“Because I need purpose. Orcs aren’t motivated by income like humans are because of our natural wealth.

But we do all want purpose. Each orc is raised to be a productive member of orc society, no matter what they choose to do, as long as they are productive.

I will always work hard. If you dislike this home we can always sell it and purchase something more appropriate.

What I want most is to have a new life here in Spokane that involves the female who I hope will want to be my future mate and a life with new friends.

This matters more to me than the wealth. ”

“Says the orc who has never had to worry about money before,” I tease.

But the honesty in his voice is undeniable, and I find myself looking at him with new eyes.

Not as the intimidating orc who marked me, not as the struggling artist I thought he was, but as a lonely male who has everything money can buy and none of the things that actually matter to him.

“It is beautiful,” I admit, looking around at the soaring ceilings and perfect furnishings. “I suppose I could get used to it…”

“But?” he prompts, hearing the reservation in my voice.

“But it doesn’t feel like you.”

He’s quiet for a moment, considering this. “What would feel like me?”

I think about the question seriously. “Something warmer. More personal. This feels like a showroom.”

“That’s because I’ve only lived here for a week and I don’t know how to make it feel like home,” he admits.

“I’ve never had a human home. I shared a cabin with my father and uncle for most of my life, then I moved here.

I did bring a stash of personal items, but they only fill the office. The rest of this isn’t me at all.”

“Home feels lived in,” I say softly. “It has personal touches in all the rooms. Photos, books you’ve actually read, a coffee mug you always use, a favorite spot to sit. The entire space would smell like the people who live there.”

He inhales deep. “This place smells like expensive candles the decorator chose.”

“Exactly.”

Sterling chooses that moment to hop down from his claimed chair and pad over to us, winding around our legs and purring. He stops in front of Harken and sits down, looking up at him expectantly.

“I think he wants you to pet him,” I say.

Harken kneels down and carefully extends his hand toward Sterling. My cat sniffs it delicately, then bumps his head against Harken’s palm in approval. Soon, Sterling is purring loudly as Harken scratches behind his ears.

“He likes you,” I observe.

“He has good taste,” Harken says, and there’s something almost shy in his smile.

Looking at this massive, scarred orc kneeling on the floor of his mansion, gently petting my judgmental cat, seems right.

This isn’t just physical attraction anymore.

This isn’t just biology or pheromones or orc mating instincts.

This is something deeper, something to do with the way he treats my cat with such gentle care, the way he admits his vulnerabilities.

“You know,” I say, settling down on the couch and watching him with Sterling, “this house is so big it could really hold a lot of cats.”

He looks up at me. “Are you thinking about bringing more cats here?”

“I’m thinking,” I say carefully, wishing he would kiss me again, “that maybe this place just needs the right occupants to make it feel like home.”