Page 6 of The Orc’s Sweetheart (Creatures & Cottages)

Chapter 6

Bodin

“ Y ou sure you don’t want me to get you a generator?” I ask Arran for what must be the tenth time over the last couple of years as he sees me out of his home.

Arran scoffs and makes a dismissive gesture. Leaning against the front wall of his castle, the vampire folds his arms over his chest and stares out over the dark ocean. “I’ve gotten by for the last four hundred years without one and do not see the need for change at this point. It’s not as if one thing can alter my life.”

Without meaning to, my mind flashes to Tilly. I’m not someone who is swayed by much—I keep my head down and take care of the island. But, it’s like she’s infiltrated my thoughts and it’s forcing me to act out of character.

I run a hand along my beard and stare back into the dark interior of Arran’s castle. “You could consider having a test run with one. I’m not saying you should keep it, but a little more light in here might do you some good.”

“I like my candles.” Arran’s reply is flat and doesn’t invite further conversation, but I also don’t see one candle lit at this time, so I decide to try a new tactic.

“That’s fair. It’s not my place to convince you otherwise. I’m just letting you know that we ordered a more powerful generator for Ren since he needs a constant power supply with his computer stuff. Once we swap his old one out, it’ll just be sitting in my workshop. I can always bring it here and you could try it for a limited time if you were curious.”

“Your kindness knows no bounds, young orc,” Arran says with a nod of appreciation. “Thank you for bringing my blood bags to me too. I was meaning to get them from The Bandaged Heart last night, but a small gap has formed next to a window in the tower.” He steps forward and points at the window in question. “I had to see to it before daylight.”

I follow him forward as I explain, “I saw the bags were still in your blood fridge when I got up this morning, so I thought I’d stop by. It’s unusual for you not to get them after nightfall.” My brow furrows as I stare up to where he’s pointing, the bright starry sky providing enough light to see his crude handiwork. “I wish I would’ve checked sooner. If I knew there was a problem with the window I could’ve brought the bags earlier as well as some tools to assist you. ”

Arran rubs at his neck. “That’s alright.” He clears his throat and leans back against the wall. “I know you wake early and need to be up all day, unlike me who needs to stay indoors while the pesky sun makes its way across the sky.”

I put my hands in my pockets and take up a position next to him, also staring at the silver light of the moon glinting off the black ocean water. “I know you built this castle with your own hands, but as caretaker I’d still like to help you sometimes. I could at least give you my caulk gun.”

Arran straightens, his eyes bulging in their sockets. “A cock gun? What the fuck is that? I don’t want your cock. Or a gun. I like… women.”

I suppress the smile that’s threatening to form. “Not cock. Caulk. A caulk gun is a device that helps with applying a sealant around a window frame.”

Arran’s chin tips down and he doesn’t meet my eyes. “Oh. That makes more sense. Would you look at that? The sky is starting to lighten.”

Is my life going to be filled with awkward moments and misunderstandings from now on? I was hoping to keep those restricted to Tilly alone.

I acknowledge his discomfort with a nod and shuffle toward the main path leading past his house and back toward town. “No problem. For any future projects, please let me know. I could help insulate your castle like I did for the other cottages. Or bring that generator.”

One hand on the heavy wooden front door—the only nonpainted front door on the island—Arran says, “I’ll have a think about it. Have a good day, Bodin. ”

I lift my arm in farewell and call over my shoulder, “Sleep well, Arran.”

As the black sky lightens to blue on my way to my workshop, my brain automatically switches from Arran to Tilly. I couldn’t think of anything except her as I lay in bed last night, replaying the scene with the plates over and over again in my head.

I really don’t understand her. What would make her care for stupid dishes more than an actual creature?

A weird feeling of guilt sat on my chest after I basically shouted at her while she was on her knees. Watching her struggle up that hill with the cart full of luggage was not as satisfying as I had hoped it would be, so I dropped the rest of her things off while Annamae kept her distracted.

I also may have hung around outside her house like some creep as night fell, checking that she was okay and that she closed the windows before she went to sleep. Sometimes the wind from Kraken Cove can unexpectedly pick up, and if she’s not used to the creaking window frames, it might scare her.

It’s not like I actually care, though. I just did that because Ma would want Tilly to feel safe.

Only when I was sure everything was closed and she was asleep, did I permit myself to go back to my apartment.

I pause for a moment to enjoy the first hint of the sun peeking over the horizon, the sky now alight with purples, oranges, and yellows, only to realize I’m right outside Tilly’s cottage. For the life of me, I can’t make my feet walk past it, and I wonder if she’s already up and getting ready for her first day of work with Ma.

Despite my brain telling me to ignore her and to head straight to my workshop, I find my traitorous feet leading me into her garden to hide behind the hydrangeas like some fucking perv— again —as I wait for her to leave for the day.

Staring through the leaves at my old cottage, I wonder if Tilly is worried about her safety on the island without a means to lock her door. City creatures always need locks with the crime rate being so high there, and it could be an adjustment for her to not have one. Maybe I can craft a latch or something so she can have some peace of mind.

I strain my ears for any sounds coming from the house, but it’s dead quiet.

Should I look through the window to see if she’s still alive or would that take the creepy factor too high a level?

The urge to start pacing gnaws at me, but I ignore it, rooting my feet to the ground and closing my eyes to get my thoughts back to real issues. Like, today’s schedule.

First, I should apply the final layer of varnish on the kitchen table I refurbished for Beryl and Calixta as their claiming ceremony gift. In the afternoon I have to stop by Beck’s so we can check the shipment schedule and—

“Hey. Can I help you with something?”

Tilly’s voice breaks me from my thoughts and I resist the urge to duck in embarrassment. Instead, I roll my shoulders back and turn to face her, assuming a blank expression.

I fail.

My lips part of their own accord as my eyes drag over every curve of her body on clear display in her skintight sportswear. Her breathing is a little fast, and her face is red. I can hear the quick patter of her heart rate, still high from what I assume was her morning run. My gaze trails from her glorious tits restrained by a black sports bra, to the curve of her stomach, down to where her thighs press together.

The visceral reaction to imagining parting those thighs and wrapping them around me, of my rough hands digging into her soft flesh, has my blood heating and moving straight to my cock.

“I didn’t know you run.” I could literally direct this conversation in any way I want, yet my brain went with that? Clearly, all the blood has left my brain.

Tilly’s head rears back. “Buddy, we’ve only had like one conversation and it was awkward at best. Excuse me for not disclosing all my hobbies to you.”

“No, I mean…”

“What? Because I’m fat you think I don’t run?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Curvy then? Is that the better word?”

Don’t say beautiful. Don’t say beautiful. Don’t say beautiful.

I open my mouth to say something—anything—but I’m left gaping at her like a fish out of water.

Tilly sighs. “Look, I’m sorry for yesterday. I don’t like that you got hurt because of me. And I don’t care about my plates more than my patients, despite what you may think. You may not like me, and that’s fine, but there’s no need to be mean.”

Think brain. Say something.

I shake my head in exasperation as I come up with nothing. “I can’t win with you.”

Tilly’s brows shoot up her forehead and she places her hands on her hips. I am not thinking about what my hands would look like in that exact same place.

“Is that what you’re trying to do?” she asks incredulously. “Because insulting me is not quite the way to win me over.”

I shove my hands in my pockets before I grab her to shake some sense into her. “I didn’t say I want to win you over. And I’m not insulting you. I’m trying to avoid complimenting you.”

“Sure, buddy. Because everyone hates a compliment. Thanks for holding back.” Tilly scoffs and turns to walk toward the cottage.

Shaking my head, I look off into the distance so I don’t embarrass myself further by staring at her ass jiggling in those leggings.

Yesterday, while I was dropping Tilly’s luggage off, I couldn’t help but listen in on her conversation with Annamae. Tilly was so different then—warm, kind, and dare I say, sweet? Just like she was with Beryl.

Why would Tilly be awkward and rude around me alone? Does she have something against males in general? Or did my attitude affect her that much?

Before Tilly closes the door, I call out, “Do you even know where The Bandaged Heart is?”

Tilly stops and crosses her arms over her chest. “Excuse me?”

I take a step closer, but keep the hydrangeas as a small barrier between us. “The clinic, I mean—The Bandaged Heart. Do you know where it is?”

“I…”

“It’s next to The Sparkling Cauldron. At the end of First Street at the bottom of the hill.”

Tilly’s shoulders drop a fraction and her brows furrow like I said something unexpected. “Thank you. I appreciate it. I better get ready now. Don’t want to be late or show up as a sweaty mess.”

The corner of my mouth twitches into something that’s a distant relative of a smile. “You’re welcome.”

A ghost of a grin settles onto Tilly’s mouth too. “Can I expect to frequently find you hiding in my bush?”

“Your bush?” Don’t think dirty thoughts. Don’t think dirty, filthy thoughts about her…

Tilly casually leans against the wall, with a faux coy look on her face. “I mean, is there a reason you showed up here this morning, hiding behind my hydrangea bush? Just need to know if this will be a regular occurrence or a once-off special.”

Fuck. Think, Bodin, think.

I clear my throat. “I was merely dropping by to say, as caretaker of cottages, that you can let me know if there’s anything that causes concern or requires fixing.” Surely, she’ll believe that. Adding under my breath, “Not like there’s anything wrong with the cottage.”

Tilly stands up a bit straighter and her smile morphs into genuine excitement. “Thank you, but I’m sure I’ll be okay. I can do all the alterations myself.”

Any positive feelings I have evaporate at that declaration. “Alterations?”

Tilly shrugs. “Just some things here and there. Nothing major.”

My upper lip pulls back from my tusks. I should’ve known this conversation was going too well. “Starry Hill’s cottages not up to city standards for you?”

“It’s fine. Very pretty. I just want to make it a bit more… me.”

My nostrils flare with ire. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

“Ah, I see. We’re back to that. Better run along then, buddy .”

I start walking away but turn around to give Tilly important advice. “By the way, when you’re doing all your ‘alterations,’ it’s good to keep in mind that the cottages have limited electricity. Don’t overload the circuit.”

“No problem,” she says flatly. As she turns to go into the house, she bangs her shoulder against the doorframe. The force of the knock most probably hurt her soft skin, but Tilly doesn’t slow down, merely closes the door with an audible click.

I swear I can feel steam escaping from my ears as I stomp toward my workshop. It might be a good idea to not be around any other creatures until I’ve worked out this frustration. Maybe hammering something will help rid me of all these weird feelings Tilly is so good at stirring up in me.