Page 46 of The Orc Chief’s Baker (Orc Mates Of Faeda #4)

Chapter

Thirty-Five

TRINIA

T he expression he’d made when she’d promised to help him turned all her insides to mush and she wasn’t sure she was going to be able to get them solid again.

“We... we should find something to cook.” Her voice sounded strained and breathless as she looked around the room.

It was a fairly small storage space with shelving stacked up to twice her height and a long, clean countertop for prep work on the far side.

There were no windows and only the one solid door, which could easily be blocked by the barrel of fish sitting beside it.

Biscuits and jam, what was she thinking? She was in here to figure out how to feed three hundred hungry orcs, not make a new one.

“L-let’s look over... um... maybe we could cook this fish? We just need to find spices.” She went to the drawers and opened the bottom one.

Inside was filled with spice jars, clearly labeled, organized by flavor. Spicy, savory, sweet... the next drawer was similarly categorized. Above that were bundles of fresh herbs preserved by magic and then?—

“Perhaps this?”

She went over to where Brovdir was standing next to the countertop. On top was a cookbook that looked as old as the Fades themselves. Its pages were tattered and worn. Some were almost translucent from age. Had magic not been at play it would have disintegrated.

And next to it was a much newer volume with the recipes from the older book copied on one side and a new version on the other. The new version outlined different flavor combinations, various methods of preparation, and alternative cooking options.

“This is so detailed,” she said, flipping to the front of the newer book. “It puts my family’s recipe book to shame. The cooks must have been working on this for years.”

“Cook,” Brovdir corrected. “Only Gegvi’s scent is on this book.”

She blinked up at him in shock. “Are you serious? But there are hundreds of recipes copied down already. This is so much work!”

Brovdir flipped through page by page of both volumes. “Looks like he’s going one at a time.”

“It’s... incredible. He’s so dedicated.

” She spotted a smaller scroll near the wall and unrolled it.

She read, “‘ Fish and lavender soup notes. This one is going to be disgusting if I don’t fix it. Going to be hard without the elite conjuror’s magic, but I’m certain I can get it done.

’” She glanced up at Brovdir, “Why can’t he use magic? I thought all the conjurors could.”

“They can. To varying degrees. But Sythcol’s elite are more advanced. Most Rove orcs use the elite tinctures and magic imbued objects for basic tasks like cleaning and lighting fires. Can’t now. The elite are busy holding back the sinkholes.”

“I see.” She turned back to the book and skimmed over the list of variations on the recipe Gegvi had attempted. She had to flip the page twice. “Incredible, he’s gone through at least a dozen different methods trying to fix this soup.”

“Fuck.”

Trinia jerked to attention. “What? What’s wrong?”

Brovdir’s expression twisted with remorse. “Shouldn’t have let Sythcol demote him.”

“Sythcol got rid of him? Why?”

“Thought his cooking was bad. It has been bad.” Brovdir heaved a heavy sigh. “But only because he’s been trying .” He waved at the notes.

“You couldn’t have known that, Brovdir. Gegvi didn’t tell you.”

“But I am chief. ” He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut as if he were trying to hold back a headache. “I should have looked further. I should not have allowed Gegvi to be dismissed.”

She pulled his hand away. “Brovdir, this isn’t your fault.”

He shot her an incredulous look and her stomach twisted with guilt.

“Not entirely your fault. I know I’ve been pushing you, but that was only to get you to see how leaving everything to Sythcol was causing strife.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “You’ve realized that now. You’re making amends. You’re fixing things.”

His expression shifted to one of exhaustion, and she knew in an instant what he was thinking.

If he had realized this sooner, he would have far less to fix.

“Oh, Brovdir.” She reached up to stroke his forehead, brushing his soft, shaggy hair away from his eyes.

He was so tall she could hardly reach, but he leaned down into her touch.

“I have many things in my life I wish I could change too. Many mistakes and regrets. Everyone does. What’s most important is to move forward .

To learn from our mistakes and keep going. ”

His brows pinched together in confusion.

“I understand. It’s hard to know where to go when the destination isn’t clear. You and Sythcol are still trying to figure out how to work together. Having two chiefs is a completely new thing for both of you and the clan.”

He looked deep into her eyes, hanging on her every word. Her chest swelled with warmth.

“I had to figure out the same when my mother passed away. I had to find my place managing her bakery all on my own.” She stroked his hair again, and he melted into her touch.

“I made so many mistakes, but if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be half the baker I am today.

I’d never have been able to manage my mother’s bakery on my own for as long as I have.

It’s overcoming adversity that makes us strong.

If everything was easy, we’d never learn any lessons. ”

She looked him right in the eyes. “You are going to do great , Brovdir. I can feel it. I’ll help you whenever you need it, but I’ve seen you.

.. talking to Iytier, to Elder Plog, I know you have it in you to be a good leader.

You just need more practice and to stop worrying about making mistakes.

You’re going to make them, accept them, learn from them, and keep moving forward. ”

He closed his eyes then and exhaled hard, and it seemed to expel all his anxiety with it. When he opened them again, he looked steadfast. Strong. Determined. It made her breath catch in her throat and her heart quiver with longing.

“Thank you, Trinia.” The words were tinged with warmth and sweetness and gratitude . She felt her knees buckle from the weight of it.

Brovdir caught her swiftly around her back and brought her up, boosting her until she was sitting up on the high countertop. Her cheeks went flush at the heat in his eyes.

And then he kissed her. His lips slanted tenderly into her, while his hard tusks surrounded her cheeks, holding her captive. His hands came around her back gently as he held her still.

It felt like she was melting . Melting into him. She balled her fists against his chest and met his kiss with equal gusto.

A clatter from the hall reminded her of where they were, and she broke off the kiss. Brovdir let out a little huff of frustration, but she pushed him back.

“Put the barrel in front of the door,” she ordered, and his eyes flashed with heat before he went to do her bidding. He lifted it like it weighed nothing, but the thunk she heard when he dropped it told her it was quite heavy.

He turned back to her. “What else?”

What else?

He was looking at her with expectant, heated eyes and her toes curled in her shoes.

“Trinia.” The sound of her name rumbled low and sweet and threatened to turn her into a literal puddle. She took a deep breath and snapped her gaze back to the orc’s face.

Not just any orc. Brovdir.

Her orc.

He regarded her with a raised brow, a quirked smile, and a relaxed posture that instantly put her at ease. So what if he was huge and deadly strong and had claws and teeth that could rip her to shreds...

Her pussy clenched at that thought and what in all burned biscuits did that mean?

“What next?”

“Hmm?” She snapped back to attention and found Brovdir looking amused by her shock.

“What next, Trinia?” He tipped his head slightly.

He wanted orders. Of course he did. Goosebumps broke out over her arms, and she couldn’t decide if she was more excited or nervous.

“Go sit down on that box so I can reach you more easily.”

A zing of delight shot through her as he obeyed her commands without question. He settled down on the wooden crate against the wall, underneath multiple shelves holding baskets of berries and cooking tools.

In this lighting, from this angle, his scars looked so much more prominent. His body was literally covered with them. Harsh jagged lines, some with pockmarks on the side. She came up and traced the one along his pectoral muscle, and he let out an exhale that rustled her hair.

“It looks like this was stitched.”

“It was.”

Her brow pinched. “But don’t you have healing tinctures?”

He shook his head. “Not enough.”

Her heart clenched. “So many of these could have killed you.”

“Didn’t.” He rose his chin as if in triumph.

“You’re right. They didn’t. But you still suffered.”

His expression wavered a bit.

She reached up and stroked her fingers through his hair. Using her nail to scratch gently from his forehead, all the way down the back of his scalp.

He produced a full-body shiver and his eyes shuttered closed. A low grown left his lips.

Just this little touch was enough to melt him.

“You’ve never known a moment of tenderness in your whole life, have you?” she asked quietly.

His only response was to swallow hard.

She gripped the hair at the back of his head and gently pulled until his neck was extended. With eyes wide, he blinked. He didn’t fight her, but he wasn’t wholly comfortable either.

The horrible, jagged scar at his neck was so prominent. The one that stole his ability to talk and caused him constant pain.

She wanted him to forget that pain for a while.

She dipped down low and kissed the scar.

His whole body tensed under her, but he didn’t jerk away. She knew he could easily escape her if he wanted.

She traced the edge of the scar with the tip of her tongue. Following the deadly path someone had left behind. Where they had tried to kill him, she soothed.

She was rewarded with a groan, and his body shuddered again. “Trinia.”

Oh Fades, why did her name on his lips sound so good ? She doubled her efforts, licking and nibbling and treating the long-healed wound as tenderly as she was able.

She moved away from his neck and down to his chest. The scar here went right across his pec, right next to his beaded nipple. She kissed along the scar until she got down to it and then lapped at the hard nub with the flat of her tongue.

Brovdir let out a sharp growl as his body shivered. He squirmed as she licked again and brought a hand up to clutch at her hair.

“Don’t,” she ordered, and he let go of her in an instant. She looked up into his wide eyes. “I’m in control right now.”

His jaw slacked, displaying his sharp rows of teeth. He was a predator. A fierce, vicious warrior.

And he melted at her demands. His whole body was relaxed as he nodded in agreement.

Oh fuck , his submission made her pussy clench with need. She felt empty and achy and wanton.

And she was going to drive him just as insane as she felt before she let him take her.