Page 7 of One Night with Her Untamed Orc (Toothsome Monster Romance #6)

Emma

M y world is falling apart. Or rather, drowning before my very eyes.

I actually cried when my notebook floated away on the weird flood-river-sea that is now my reality.

I’ve lost my food stash, my spoon and bowl, my work, half my sample vials.

And while my gear is in plastic totes, I have no idea just how waterproof they are.

My only hope is to get what’s left of my gear onto my boat.

And then what?

I don’t think I can navigate back to the other side of the island in this weather.

I know how to drive a boat, but not how to see when the visibility is so low.

Not how to navigate this flood. I swallow hard.

Holding the most important gear in my hands, with the heaviest pack on my back, I start slowly wading through the water to my boat.

The boat feels so incredibly far away. Is it drifting farther out to sea? Panic grips my chest, but I don’t stop. I can do this. It’s just a little rain.

When I’m waist deep, the water washes my feet out from under me, and I cry out. The pack is too heavy. Dropping the bin into the sea seems tragic, but I need my arms to swim. Drowning seems more tragic.

There’s a roar from somewhere behind me that seems to echo throughout the sodden forest. Then heavy hands grasp me, one on my pack pulling me up and back, the other on my shoulder.

To say that I’m swimming in emotions would be an understatement, not to mention cliché. My panic at the water changes to panic at the orc who’s grabbed me. Panting, he holds me tight to his rock hard, naked torso and marches us back to shore—or what’s left of it.

Eventually, he sets me down on solid but squishy ground in my bare feet, as the rush of water stole my galoshes. I can’t stop shaking. Is it cold? Is it fear? Probably both. I try to say thank you, but it comes out as, “T—th—t—tha—oo.”

The orc stares down at me, his massive green chest heaving as he huffs large, heavy breaths through his nostrils at me.

“Now you will come to my place.” I look beyond him to my bins floating out to sea and whimper.

Turning, he looks, too. He sighs deeply, as if I’ve asked him to dance in fire, then turns to me. “Stay here.”

For being so large, he is quick. He’s in the water, arms like windmills, swimming for my gear.

Once the totes are stacked on shore by me, high enough to stay out of the water, he scoops me up without another word.

I protest, but my mouth still doesn’t work.

Gibberish comes out. He snorts out—maybe it was a laugh?

—and carries me up the hill to his cabin. My teeth won’t stop chattering.

My head is heavy, and I tuck my face into his naked green chest to shield my face from the pelting rain and try to absorb his heat.

His heartbeat is heavy and powerful. While he was panting after swimming, he isn’t now, though he’s carrying me up this steep hill.

I time my breathing with his in order to calm myself.

This is an idiotic and very expensive mistake I’ve made.

My entire blossoming career…floating out to sea.

He sets me down, then opens the French doors to fiddle with a claw-foot tub that sits protected on the wooden deck outside.

The sound of the rain pummels me; I hadn’t realized how loud it was until now.

Cold, rain-scented air wafts all around me.

My mind can barely comprehend what’s happening.

There’s a large shower with a glass door in the corner.

I point to it, or think that I do, trying to indicate that I’d be happy with a shower.

He ignores me. Or doesn’t see me. Either is possible.

Backpack, waders, and wet clothes off, he still hasn’t said anything. I’m still chattering and shivering too much to protest. He’s already seen me naked, after my skinny dipping yesterday. And I’m too out of sorts to care much, anyway .

Rose-scented bubble bath wafts inside the bathroom.

Standing before me, concern in his eyes, Mr. Stormfell looks expectant.

When I don’t move, he picks me up, very courteous of my ass and breasts, and carries me to the tub, setting me gently in the water, getting soap bubbles all up his arms to his shoulders.

“Soak and warm up. I’ll be back.”

My body slowly warms, soaking up the warmth, expelling the experience from every pore.

It’s weirdly peaceful, sitting outside in a stranger’s claw-foot tub, watching the rain, but protected from it.

Sinking down into the depths of the warmth, I let the bubbles cover my head.

I can’t begin to contemplate how I’m going to recover my research.

Maybe I can just stay here forever and not think about any of it.

Once more today, I’m pulled from the water by rough, calloused, massive green hands.

This time though, the water is warm and rose scented.

This time, I see the scars across every finger and knuckle.

The sloshing as I come up, gulping large amounts of water and spewing bathwater at this orc, leaves the tub half-empty.

“What are you doing?” I ask at the same time he says, low but not calm, “Stop doing that.”

“Stop doing what?” I ask, exasperated. Stop panicking? Stop feeling despondent? Stop trying to warm my core ?

“Rescuing you.” His words zing through me. He thought I was what? Drowning in the bubble bath?

A moment of clarity washes over me as my eyes focus better, my brain coming alive. Beside him on a little table is a tray filled with a steaming bowl and mug of something that smells delicious. My breasts are completely exposed, thanks to flooding the bathroom floor, and I’m no longer chattering.

Tarik is still shirtless.

And he is staring at me just as much as I’m staring at him. Only, unlike me, he isn’t angry.

He clears his throat and moves to hand me the mug. “Drink.” I have to say, I don’t love his abruptness, but he gets the job done.

“Thank you,” I mumble, as I sink against the back of the tub, trying to gather up some soap bubbles with my free hand to cover my breasts.

His lip twitches around his tusks as he watches me, then he turns the faucet on to refill the tub.

“For the tea, yes. But you were magnificent to watch when you rescued my gear. It means a lot to me.”

He nods with a slight grunt. When it’s clear that I’m holding the tea but not really drinking anymore, he carefully takes it from me and sets it back on the tray.

He walks around the bathroom for a moment and returns with a bottle.

Sitting behind me, he fills his hands with fragrant citrus shampoo and massages my hair.

“No, it’s okay. I can do it.” I reach behind me and grab his wrists, or try to.

He slips right out—it’s not as if my fingers could possibly make it halfway around his wrists—and takes my hands and sets them in my lap in the water.

He’s very careful not to touch any skin besides my hands.

All the same, there’s a quiver low in my stomach I can’t deny.

“Just because you can, doesn’t mean I can’t.” Um, okay. His voice is low and gravelly. “I’m sure you can wash your own hair. Let me take care of you.”

“But I don’t need you—”

“You don’t know what you need. Hush.” I purse my lips and think of the perfect snarky comeback as his fingers scrub my scalp and massage my temples and my neck. It’s really hard to argue with him—of course I know what I need!—as he works some sort of orc magic around my tense head.

“Lean back.” Are all orcs as demanding as this one? I obey, but not because I want to. I’m just struggling to stay upright. It’s like he’s pushing the switch that melts all of my muscles. He continues his magic work. I close my eyes. I could stay here all night .

“You are.”

“I am what?”

“Staying all night.”

“Did you just read my mind? Are you a mind reader orc? Please tell me you aren’t a mind reader orc!

That would be devastating!” Oh my gods, did he hear me lust after his body?

What about last night in the tent? Did he hear me then?

There’s a new heat in my body that has nothing to do with the temperature of the bathwater.

“Please relax. You said the words aloud. You will stay with me tonight.” Oh. Good. I sink back down into the water, face flushed from embarrassment. He goes back to massaging my scalp. I desperately try to ignore the tingling sensation that travels the length of my body as he touches me.