Page 2 of The Orc Chief’s Baker (Orc Mates Of Faeda #4)

Chapter

Two

brOVDIR

B rovdir had been with many women in the woods but never once had he ever been chased by one.

Fades blast it, the woman was quick. It was like she’d grown up scampering through this forest and knew each tree and bush by heart. She was keeping pace with him.

And he was . . . hesitant to leave.

Not because she smelled good. Certainly not that.

He’d smelled plenty of human women and yes , she smelled the best of them.

Like something sweet and rich he’d not encountered before.

It drifted into his nose and made a quiet, comfortable bed in his mind, settling around him like a thick fur on a chilly night.

The feel of her, all full and heavy in his arms, made him long for another touch. He’d held a few women like that, but they’d always felt too light. Like there was nothing on their bones but skin. This woman felt lush .

And she hadn’t immediately tried to squirm out of his hold.

And now she was running after him .

Perhaps... he could stop just for a moment.

Brovdir shook the crazed thought right out of his head and kept going.

Blast, he had no time for this. Karthoc would skin him alive if he found out he’d spoken to a woman from Oakwall Village. The village Brovdir wasn’t even supposed to know about. The one he’d sworn to keep secret from the rest of his brethren and go absolutely nowhere near.

“Wait! Please come back! I just have a few questions!”

Curiosity seized him so tight he could feel it in his throat. Questions about what? About the saber cat he’d just sent packing? About the knife he’d given her? About why she smelled so good...?

Would it really be so bad to just...

No. No! He would not disobey his Warlord’s orders. Absolutely not .

“I have cookies!”

As she brought out a cloth package, a delicious aroma flooded everything else.

It was sweet and soft and rich. He’d smelled something like it when traveling past a human town before.

One of the big ones with elaborate stone walls surrounding the perimeter.

The wooden gates had been open as he’d snuck by, so the stench of human bodies was strong, but through that, he’d caught a whiff of surgery bliss. Just one.

He’d dreamed about what the taste might be like...

Ah, blast it. He was in so much trouble.

“Please? Just for a moment?”

He squeezed his eyes shut and leaned against the trunk of one of the huge fir trees. His head hit the trunk hard, and he wished it would jar some sense back into his miserable skull. He never should have gone walking through the woods. No matter how badly his throat hurt.

And it did hurt. The only thing more potent than the delicious aroma of this woman and her baked goods was the searing agony gripping his vocal cords. It burned like the foul depths of the goblin’s deepest mines and blistered like he was swallowing down magma.

She wanted to ask him questions, but with how much he’d been forced to speak this day, there was no way he’d be able to utter a single word in response to her.

“At least take these as a thank you for saving me!”

Her call made him flinch because it was right next to him. Right around the tree. If he tipped his head a little...

There she was. With her curly dark hair and her plump cheeks and her bright brown eyes. She was short and curvy, and his fingers itched to touch her again. She was so soft.

Her eyes slid his direction.

He jerked back into hiding, but not fast enough.

“There you—oh!”

She tripped over a root right in front of him and— blast his warrior reflexes back to the Fades who’d given them to him—he caught her.

And she felt just as good as she had before.

His hand curled around her forearm, and he was pleased with how firm her muscles were.

She was nowhere near fragile. His other hand rested around her back.

The soft cotton of her dark gown was tight around her curves and the image of her mostly bare lower half flashed in his mind. His blood heated up against his will.

The woman sucked in a breath as he tightened his grip on her.

She looked up at him with huge doe eyes through thick dark lashes, and his rational thoughts evaporated right out of his skull. His chest tugged tight as warmth bloomed high. Fades have mercy .

She blinked in surprise, but there was not a hint of fear in her beautiful gaze.

“Goodness, thank you.” She didn’t struggle to escape him even slightly, and he held his breath. “Sorry. I swear I’m not this klutzy on a normal day.”

Her voice sounded like a dream, husky and smooth. A little lower than typical for a human female. He wanted to hear more.

“And thank you for saving me too, from that saber cat. I would have...” Her face paled, and her throat worked in a gulp. Then she narrowed her eyes at him. “Were you the one who set that snare?”

Ah boarshit. He forced himself to nod.

“So, I suppose I wouldn’t have been attacked by a saber cat at all if not for you.” She shifted against his grip and his heart squeezed. “Are you going to let me go?”

He did so in an instant, even as his whole body prickled with the urge to resist.

She brushed at her skirts before stepping back. Her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes narrowed in a glare and her gaze did not avert from his face even once.

She was not afraid of him.

Were all the humans from Oakwall this brave?

“I’m guessing you didn’t know that orcs aren’t supposed to trap in this area of the woods. This is where the trappers from Oakwall hunt.”

Blast it! No, he hadn’t known that. But he wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near the village in the first place.

Her brows shot up and she let out a little chuckle that made his whole world brighten. Fades be praised. That was the loveliest thing he’d ever heard. Like the melody of his soul . It danced through him, energizing and exquisite.

“Don’t worry. We aren’t going to string you up over it,” she said so casually. As if it wasn’t a complete revolution to meet a human who didn’t want to slaughter him on sight. “In fact... I’ll let it be our little secret.”

She . . . would?

“Here.” She dug into a bag slung around her shoulder.

The heady scent of sugar and rosemary wafted from it and his mouth began to water as she withdrew a beeswax-covered drawstring sack.

“One might think vanilla cookies aren’t a good enough reward for saving my life, but, like I said, my life wouldn’t have been threatened had you not set that trap so. ..”

She grabbed his hand and he quickly sheathed his claws. As a warrior, he typically would never sheath them. He needed to be ready for an attack at any moment. Soldiers of the Waking Order could appear at any time.

But... there were no such attacks like that in the Rove Woods. No human’s ready to slice him clean through. No war or strife or even much blight. The saber cat had been the first blighted animal he’d seen since they’d arrived a few days prior.

This place was at peace. Serene. Tranquil.

With women willing to give out food in thanks for saving them instead of... he unconsciously reached up to rub the scar at his throat.

The generous woman turned over his hand and plopped the bag into his palm. The weight of it shocked him almost as much as her willingness to touch him without fear.

“Now we’re even, I say.” She gave a quick nod that bounced her curls. Her nose was adorably round, lips red and plump, and her dark eyes sparkled in the dappled midday light.

Fades help him.

Her brows rose again, and she shifted her gaze from the bag to his face. “You don’t have to be so timid. I’m not going to hurt you. Never thought I’d have to assure a warrior orc of that. You are a warrior, right? Visiting Rove Wood Clan?”

He nodded slowly.

“I’ve heard that you warriors come to collect the healing potions every moon or so.” She released his hand, and it felt like the sun had set on him. “Really good timing with that cat. You saved my life. Truly. Thank you for saving me.”

He could only nod again. His eyes were so wide he could feel the chilly breeze on them.

“You don’t have to be worried. My village, Oakwall, we’re friendly with orcs. We trade with you twice a moon. I personally have been trading with the orcs of Rove Wood since I was about yay-high.” She tapped her skirt where he supposed her knee would be.

Wide-eyed realization brightened her beautiful face.

“Speaking of”—she held up the dagger by the blade to show the handle—“did you make this?”

Her fingers were far too close to the sharp edge and his eyes fixed to them as he nodded in response.

“You did make it? I assume... that means you have access to metal?”

Access to metal? His brows furrowed, but he nodded.

“Wonderful! That makes things much less complicated.”

What... was less complicated? This was so difficult to follow.

A smile spread across her face, and Brovdir was captivated by her once again as she gushed, “It’s really beautiful work. Great quality. The skill is... how often do you visit Rove Wood? I hear the couriers for the tinctures come once a moon or so. Are you here that often?”

His brows pinched.

“Sorry. I suppose I’m muddling things up a bit.” She adjusted the knife to hold the handle again, and he breathed a sigh of relief that she was no longer in danger of cutting herself.

And then she extended her hand out to him.

“I’m Trinia, the baker at Oakwall Village, and I’d like to make a trade with you.”