Page 12

Beth

W hen I stepped outside, the sudden brightness made me squint.

I tilted my hat to shade my eyes, grateful to have it even if it did slip around a bit on my head.

I'd used an upside-down braid on my hair and pinned it tightly to the top after I’d retrieved some of the pins my “bridesmaids” had used on my hair for the wedding from the trash bucket.

I liked the outfits Ruugar had purchased for me.

When I'd looked at myself in the mirror after I'd finished dressing, I could almost believe I was a boy.

The loose shirt hid my breasts that weren't huge, anyway.

My face had a feminine slant, but so did a lot of young guys.

I'd pretend I wasn't even growing much stubble yet if anyone looked closely or thought to ask.

Deepen my voice and tell them that one day, I'd have a full beard.

Maybe after menopause when my hormones went haywire .

Which they were kind of doing right now as I followed Ruugar toward the fenced pasture beside the barn. He really was big. Muscular. Gorgeous. Did orcs release pheromones? Because my body was responding to something.

He leaned against the fence, looking pretty casual about all this. Six sorhoxes grazed in the pasture, ignoring us for now.

Cupping his hands around his mouth, Ruugar released a low, guttural sound. “Whoop, whoop, whoop.” His voice echoed across the open land.

At first, nothing happened. Then the enormous green beasts lifted their heads and stared our way, their tails flipping back and forth, swatting at flies.

As if they shared a single thought, they charged toward us.

I took a step back. Then another. My body tensed, and I put my weight on the balls of my feet, ready to bolt into the barn if they barreled through the fence.

Ruugar didn't look ready to run. Shouldn’t we both be fleeing?

Dirt billowed around the thundering group, thick plumes rising behind their stamping, clawed hooves.

Since they were the size of a minivan, I figured I was a done deal.

They’d stomp all over me and it wouldn’t matter who was looking for me, because there’d be nothing left to find but flattened Beth.

Ben , that is.

Horns curved around their ears before jutting forward in lethal spikes. They’d impale me .

Smoke curled from their nostrils. Real smoke. Like dragons.

I swallowed but the fear lodged in my throat refused to go down.

I’d thought trail rides included horses, but nope. Nothing like that. These were beasts from someone's nightmare.

As the creatures came closer, my hands twitched at my sides. I'd read once that animals could smell fear. If that was true, I was probably radiating pure terror, my scent shouting that I wanted to get the hell out of here.

But Ruugar stayed right where he was, seemingly unbothered by all the ruckus. Unconcerned that they’d flatten the fence. Him. Me. He watched them approach with a pleasant expression on his face.

I exhaled. Right. If he wasn’t running, I didn't want to be the only one taking off across the yard like a spooked rabbit.

Grimacing, I stepped up beside him again and casually—sort of—placed my hands on the top of the rail that had been built to my eyelevel.

The sorhoxes skidded neatly to a stop in front of us, their claws digging into the packed dirt, sending a wave of it our way. It smacked against the front of my nice, new clothing and made me sneeze.

A low rumble rolled through the herd, like an earth-deep hum of excitement.

I stared.

They were massive, huge enough to make even Clydesdale horses look small.

Their bright green hides gleamed in the sunlight, and they appeared sleek and muscular.

Eyes the color of deep moss locked onto me with equal curiosity.

The one in the front stomped one of their front legs, their nostrils flaring and a thick coil of smoky breath shooting out to drift across the ground.

“Smoke,” I barked. “Fire?”

“Not so far,” Ruugar said in too casual a voice.

I guessed that was good. Maybe they weren’t orc dragons after all.

“You don't ride horses,” I said.

He snorted and looked down at his big body.

“Can you see me riding one of them? My feet would touch the ground.

The poor thing would collapse. Sorhoxes are better, especially for orcs.

I imagine whoever gave you the tour explained that we're combining orc creatures and culture with your Wild West heritage to make something better here. Tourists are going to love it. So Gracie, my brother’s, Tark's mate says.

She's a social media influencer and knows all about stuff like that.”

I did vaguely remember them mentioning that.

Back then, I was wallowing in sadness and trying to figure a way out of the trap I'd found myself in with Bradley.

I kept hoping something would happen, and I wouldn't have to marry him. When it got close, and I couldn’t see a way out, I knew I'd have to run.

Ruugar unhooked the gate and eased it to the side, waving toward one of the sorhoxes, a smaller one, meaning it was the size of a sofa with long legs rather than a box van.

The creature separated from the others with a lazy stride, its tail swaying as it moved through the opening and toward the barn.

It came to a stop near another sorhox tied to a post in front of the wide, red gambrel structure.

Dirt puffed as its claws settled, and it jerked its head back and forth to drive away flies.

“Come on over, Beth. I mean, Ben.” Ruugar waved for me to follow him.

I stopped a sizable distance away while he continued, striding right up to the beasts.

He patted the side of the loose sorhox’s thick neck.

“Meet Barg. He’s a youngling male, but he’s well trained.

Gentle. He won’t throw you, but he might step on you if you’re not careful. He won't do it on purpose.”

I stared at Barg. Barg curved his neck around and stared at me. His tail flicked upward, the spike scraping across his back like he was scratching an itch, and he shifted his weight on the dirt.

“I’m glad he won’t, um, step on me on purpose.” I couldn’t tell which part worried me more, that I apparently needed to look out for casual stomping or that youngling male meant something this size.

Ruugar motioned me forward. “You’re convincing people you belong on this ride, right? You’ll need to act like it.”

I didn’t like this. Not one bit. But he was right. If I so much as flinched when I was supposed to be some scrawny stable kid earning his keep, I’d be found out in an instant.

Gritting my teeth, I forced my feet to take a step toward the sorhoxes. Then another. My hands hovered at my sides, flexing, and I was unsure if touching the beast was smart or asking to be skewered. Though not on purpose.

When I got closer, Barg let out a low, rumbling huff, a deep, bone-shaking sound. His eyes drifted lazily over me as if he was trying to decide if he should accidentally step on me. Or eat me. Maybe both.

Ruugar watched, his eyes sparkling, I hoped not with amusement. He could be gauging both my nerves and Barg's opinion of me. I hoped it was that. He nodded toward the beast. “Come right up here in front of him. Hold out your hand. Let him sniff it.”

I hesitated, not only because Barg could probably crush me with a twitch of his head, but because Ruugar was watching. Closely. Like he was measuring me, deciding something, though I wasn’t sure what.

A dangerous part of me wanted him to approve of me. Actually wanted him to like me. Which was absurd. I was here for a week, and I was a burden he hadn’t asked for. There was nothing about this situation that could end well if I started dreaming about anything more.

But I did have to fit in. This was a job.

My first one! And I wanted to do it right.

So I made my legs take me over to stand in front of Barg.

I pretended he was an SUV. An inanimate object.

My hand trembled as I reached out, not entirely sure if the shaking was from nerves or how much I liked being close to Ruugar, something I wasn’t ready to name.

I wasn’t sure if I was ready to make contact with something that could flatten me with a casual step. But Ruugar’s calm voice and steady gaze kept me from racing into the barn to hide. I needed to act like this wasn't a big deal—when it was.

Swallowing hard, I slowly extended my hand toward Barg, palm up.

All of me was one big tremble. The sorhox lowered his massive head, his nostrils flaring as he took a deep, snuffling breath.

His dark green eyes shifted up to meet mine, assessing.

Before I could react, his broad, rough tongue swiped across my entire palm.

I jerked but kept my hand steady, ignoring my overwhelming urge to yank my hand away.

“Oh.” I stared at my now glistening palm. “Now I’m covered in sorhox slobber.”

Ruugar’s gaze was much too solemn. “He’s…”

I eyed him. “What?”

“Nothing.” He cleared his throat. “This means he likes you.”

I squinted at him. It felt like an incomplete answer, but I had other problems, like figuring out how to wipe my hand without offending the beast in front of me.

Barg flicked his tail, then nudged my shoulder with his wide nose. The force nearly sent me stumbling back into the front of the barn.

Ruugar’s lips twitched. “He wants you to pet him now. He likes when you rub behind his ears.”

As if I could reach. We were talking nine feet—at least—at the top of Barg’s head.

“Will he bend down so I can do it?” I asked.

“Go around to his shoulder. I’m sure he will.”

After being slobbered in sorhox spit, I wasn’t sure much more could happen unless sorhoxes liked to “accidentally” poop on people too.

Sending Ruugar a grimace, I wiped my hand on my pants and eased to Barg’s side, rubbing along his broad shoulder. He curved his head around to study me some more before he lowered it to my level.