Page 3 of One Night with Her Untamed Orc (Toothsome Monster Romance #6)

Emma

F or the last five years, all my work, all my dreams, all my nightmares have revolved around this moment: doing my own research.

And now, looking at the rocky shoreline, the tall pines and firs, the cold salty sea that seems to call to me, I’m here, doing it.

It’s real. My arm is bruised from all the times I’ve pinched myself over the last twenty-four hours as I’ve traveled, lugging all my gear, to get here—this isolated bit of rocky beach near Moonfang Haven.

The beach, if it can be called that, is a mix of pebbles leading to mud, then soil and undergrowth of the forest. It’s perfect. I line up my bins, crates, and backpacks near where I’ll set up my tent.

Hands on my hips, bare feet in the shallow water, I look out over the water and breathe deep.

“Hello sea. Hello eels. I’m so happy to be here with you.

We’re going to be great friends.” And with our introduction done, I turn to spreading my tarp and setting up my little foldable table that will be my kitchen and laboratory while I’m here .

A hawk cries overhead. Songbirds chirp in the trees surrounding me. And without a sound, a cormorant dives into the water, looking for its fish dinner. Watching it come up, wriggly fish in its mouth, reminds me. Focus, Emma. I need to set up the first eel traps.

The traps are just big boxes. The eels swim in and then can’t get out. I’ll check them multiple times of day, take blood samples and weigh them, inspect their gills for mussel larvae, then let them go.

I decide to set up my little camp stove first so my fancy dinner of pre-packaged lentil curry can warm while I get the traps in the water.

Savoring the feel of rocks and mud underneath my feet, I grab the floating line and traps and walk the shoreline, setting them out every so often.

After dinner, I’ll take more out on the boat and set them with floating buoys.

The water feels so good. It’s technically autumn, but it still feels like summer; it’s been a long, hot day lugging gear around.

Standing at the water’s edge, I decide to go for it.

All my clothes stripped off, I wade back into the water and let the saltwater refresh me.

I swim out until I can no longer touch and flip onto my back, floating like a starfish.

The cottony clouds overhead frame the blue sky perfectly.

This moment feels like a celebration of all I’ve worked toward.

My stomach growls, reminding me of my dinner. I swim back to shore easily, and climb out of the water, feeling a little like an exotic mermaid reaching land for the first time, naked and unsteady on the rocky shore.

I freeze in my tracks. Someone is in my camp.

Not just someone, but a surly looking, hulking green orc someone.

And not only is he in my camp, he’s…stirring my dinner?

Not only is he stirring my dinner, he’s not wearing a shirt.

Holy muscles, Batman. I try not to drool at his green skin rippling over his many, many hard muscles, or the way the veins in his forearms pop as he stirs my dinner.

“Your food was burning. You have to stir it.” I nod and swallow hard. It doesn’t even bother me that he just orc-splained how to make my dinner. He turns the stove off and pours the stew into the waiting bowl on my little table. “Here. You’re trespassing.”

“That’s a non-sequitur. Or, burying the lead?

Either way, thanks for stirring my food.

Do you want some? Also, just to return the non-sequitur: you’re not wearing a shirt.

” The orc sniffs the food, grunts in what I assume is the positive, then looks for another spoon; completely ignoring the fact about all his muscles being on display. Not that I’m complaining.

“Neither are you.” His deep voice trills something low in my stomach, even as the words process and my brain sets off a five-alarm fire bell.

It’s not that I forgot I was naked. It’s just that I thought I was alone. I’m proud of every muscle, every curve, and every dimple on my body. Perhaps the discovery of an orc in my camp momentarily scrambled my senses.

Quickly, I whip my head around, looking for my clothes. I have a camp towel somewhere, but it isn’t unpacked yet. Water flings out of my braid each time I turn a different direction. I can only imagine how ridiculous I must seem.

Finding my clothes on a rock, I march over to them—more like stumble—and dress, forgoing the bra; it’s been a long day.

“Do you always swim naked on other people’s property?”

“Do you own the sea?” I ask as I wring the water out of my braid. That stops him for a second. Then he crosses his arms.

“I own the land your gear is on.” Ah. That makes more sense.

“The county records office told me this was public land.” I take the bowl that’s still in his hands.

It’s really hard to focus, as my mouth salivates over the vast expanse of taut green skin before me.

My stomach hollers in protest. He raises a thick eyebrow at me, and his lip twitches around his intimidating looking tusks.

He grunts and snorts at that, crossing his thick forearms over his chest. Oh mama. His muscles flex again, and suddenly I feel entirely too hot under the shade of these trees.

Before I say anything incriminating, I shovel food in my mouth.

It’s passable as food, almost. “The maps haven’t been updated in years.

I’ve lived here for five years. I have a cabin at the top of this hill.

” He points behind me. I don’t turn to look because I cannot peel my eyes away from him.

The man is a stone god come to life, and he acts like he knows and he doesn’t give a flying eel about it.

“Do I need to ask permission from you to stay here?”

“That would be the civilized thing to do.” The way he growls the words sends a shock to my lower belly. I don’t feel threatened, though I am slightly confused at the way he just saved my dinner and is now demanding that I ask permission.

“Okay. Mr…What’s your name?”

“Tarik. Tarik Stormfell.”

“Thanks, Mr. Stormfell, I’m Emma Lusa. I would like to formally ask permission to camp on your land for the next three nights for the purpose of conducting research on the Lunar Crested Eel.

I’ll leave my boat anchored here,” I point behind him, “and camp here. With traps along the shoreline and out at sea.” I give my best A+ paper smile.

“No.”

I pull back as if I’ve been slapped. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“I mean what I said. No. I don’t like the idea of you catching the eels. They’re endangered, you know.”

Now I’m nodding along. “Yes, I know.” I explain that the eels won’t be harmed and will be released. The deep furrow of his brow seems to relax just a smidge at that knowledge.

Mr. Tarik Stormfell sighs. It’s an exasperated sound and gesture.

The way his chest heaves, the muscles in his neck tense as he inhales then exhales is more than exasperating to me.

But then he looks straight into my eyes and says, “You’re my mate.

I knew as soon as I smelled you. And my mate isn’t going to sleep on the ground and eat substandard meals out of a pouch. ”

“Excuse me?” The squeak in my voice is unavoidable. Did he just say what I think he just said?