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

Tarik

I t’s impossible to sleep, knowing she’s down there at the water’s edge.

Knowing my mate is down there, alone, vulnerable, but determined and strong.

All night, I tossed and turned, thinking of the nasty teeth of the eel and imagining it seeking revenge for being captured; or how I let her go back down there to fend for herself.

I thought about being her night guard, but I know that would really backfire on me. Stalker-level romance is not my jam.

What kind of woman gets excited by eels? Emma certainly is one of a kind.

Then I’d roll over and revel in how strong and sure of herself she was. Then again, for that spark when we shook hands—that knowledge and wisdom that she is the one for me. She is mine, whether I like it or not. Even if that means admiring her eels with her. Gross .

Morning comes early, grey and soggy. I peek down at her to see that she’s geared up already with wading overalls, raincoat with the hood up, and eating something gloopy in her one bowl with her one spoon.

“Not my problem. Her choice,” I say over and over as I make an omelet and pot of coffee, then go check on my pumpkins before sorting through veggie orders from my customers.

The best way to earn a living and not talk to anybody is to have a million forms. Want weekly veggies to pick up?

Fill out a form. Want ten pounds of ripe tomatoes, perfect for making salsa?

Fill out a form. Want a million zucchini to make a million loaves of zucchini bread?

Fill out a form. Except nobody wants a million zucchini.

But! Want a pumpkin for fall? Fill out a form.

It’s easy. I don’t have to talk to anybody. But I have a lot of forms every week to sort through to make sure I get the orders right.

The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. Something’s wrong outside. That’s all it takes for me to jump up and run out to the deck in the rain to check on Emma. Emma, such a sweet name on my lips.

I can’t see her. Her camp is still there; she must be out in the boat. Apparently, despite all her research, she doesn’t know how to read a weather forecast. This week is supposed to be unrelenting rain. Flooding is predicted on this side of the island .

Emma knows what she’s doing, she assured me last night with her beaming smile before I screwed everything up. But I’m still worried. Standing on the deck, binoculars in hand, I scan the coastline until I finally see her in the small boat coming back to camp.

From here, I can see her shivering. A growl rumbles through me, knowing that her stubbornness to be out here doing this work is causing her to suffer.

I watch as she anchors the boat and steps out.

Misjudging the depth of the water, she falls in up to her chest. I start, ready to leap down the hillside to her, but she recovers. A professional.

Soggy, she slumps up to her camp, only to stare at her tent, which is…Oh. It’s completely flattened by the rain and a fallen tree branch. Everything inside is going to be soaking wet.

My chest thrums, telling me what to do.

“Come with me,” I say when I approach her camp, making sure to shuffle leaf debris and break branches underfoot so I don’t scare her.

She looks up from where she’s tying strings from her tent to the tree overhead, trying to make it stand in a three-dimensional shape. Her mouth opens and shuts, like a fish, as she tries to say something. She licks her lips before speaking.

“No, thank you.” She finally says, surprising me. I shouldn’t be surprised after my debacle last night.

“It wasn’t an offer. You can dry off at my cabin.” I try again, trying to clear the growl from my throat, desperate to get her out of the rain before she catches cold. She steps around the tent, each footfall a loud squishing sound from the sloppy mud under her boots.

“You already tried that. I’m going to stay out of your way. I’m confident that I will be fine. Besides, I have to go back out in two hours to check the traps. I’ll just get wet all over again.” She shrugs, ties the final piece of paracord to the tree branch, then steps back to look at her work.

It’s pathetic. But I admire her ingenuity.

“But you’re wet.”

“Yes. I intend to stay that way. Probably for the next two days.” She’s proud, but I hear a hint of resignation in her voice.

“Let me—” the words take care of you are on the tip of my tongue, begging to be said. Begging for her to hear them. The look on her face shuts me up, jaws snapping shut on the words.

Her smooth, tanned skin pinks as her lips purse in anger and determination. I refuse to think about those lips and what they taste like, even when she licks them, her pink tongue darting out, teasing me.

“I’m good. Promise. I’ll keep my end of our agreement. You keep yours. I need this data for my work. To validate the last five years of my life working through higher education.” She gives a bitter smile.

Nodding curtly, I turn and make my way up the slope to my home; I can’t argue with that. I understand the need to prove myself. The need to be independent. That’s why I live here. By myself.

By the time it’s sunset, no one on Earth can tell.

It’s like we live in a snow globe, except instead of snow, it’s torrential rain.

I chop wood to let out my frustration on the world, the rain, my stupid mouth for telling her she was trespassing, and her unwillingness to let me shelter her and keep her warm.

Lots and lots of wood. I already have enough for the upcoming winter. This…this is all extra.

At some point the rain picks up, but it takes ages for me to realize it. When I finally leave the axe in the stump and stand tall, I hear it. Crying. It’s faint, and it’s coming from the direction of Emma’s camp.

I’m out of breath when I reach her camp, except it isn’t her camp any longer.

The rain has flooded not only her tent, but her entire space is underwater.

She’s standing in knee-high water, a backpack on her back, a large plastic tote in her hands, trying to make her way to her boat, which seems very far away from the beach, or what used to be the beach.

I was hoping not to admit this, but I hate water.

I love watching it from my cabin atop the hill, but I absolutely loathe swimming and all creatures that live in the sea.

Now, I’m overlooking the woman my heart says is mine, needing to rescue her with every breath in my being, but being stuck in the mud from fear of wading through the water.