Page 3 of The Passionate Orc (The Teddy Orcs #1)

N ar

I stared at the flyer in my hand, heart pounding harder than when I faced the Bloodclaw tribe in last season's Skull Clash tournament. The prestigious Emerald City Art Competition—open to all residents, regardless of species or background. This was it. My chance to show my paintings to the world.

"You gonna eat that paper or what?"

I jumped, nearly dropping the flyer as Grubnuk, my clan brother, peered over my shoulder. His breath smelled of morning ale and smoked hagfish.

"Training schedule," I lied, crumpling the paper into my pocket. "For the new recruits."

Grubnuk grunted, losing interest immediately. "Chief wants you at the weapons pit. New spears need testing."

I nodded, relief flooding through me as he lumbered away. That was close, too close. If anyone in the Red Blade Clan discovered my secret passion for painting... well, I'd never hear the end of it. Orcs were supposed to swing axes, not brushes.

But the competition deadline was in three weeks. Three weeks to create something worthy, something that could stand alongside the finest art in the city. I had to enter. I had to.

First, though, I had to figure out how to hide it from my clan mates.

"You're planning to do what?" Emryn's blue eyes widened, the afternoon sunlight catching the golden flecks in her irises.

We sat in her small studio apartment, canvases and half-finished sculptures surrounding us like colorful sentinels. The smell of turpentine and clay hung in the air, mingling with honeysuckle. I longed to touch her curly brown hair, pulled back today with a paint-splattered bandana.

"Enter the Emerald City competition," I repeated, reaching into my leather vest to pull out the crumpled flyer. "But no one from my clan can know."

Her delicate fingers brushed mine as she took the paper, sending little jolts of electricity up my arm. We'd only been seeing each other for two weeks, but Ancestors help me, this tiny human woman had me completely bewitched.

"Nar, this is perfect for you! Your landscape series is incredible." She leaned forward, eyes bright with excitement. "But why the secrecy? Your work deserves to be seen."

I shifted uncomfortably on her too-small sofa. "You know why. Red Blade warriors don't... paint." The word came out like a confession. "We're supposed to honor our ancestors through battle and blood, not, watercolors and still lifes."

Emryn stood up suddenly, hands on her hips. The movement made her flowy dress sway around her knees, momentarily distracting me.

"That's ridiculous. Your art is part of who you are. And it's magnificent."

Heat rushed to my face. "You're the only one who thinks so."

"Because I'm the only one who's seen it!" She threw her hands up, then softened. "Look, I understand clan traditions are important. But art isn't weakness, Nar. It's another kind of strength."

Something in my chest tightened and released. This was why I was falling for her, she saw me. Not just the seven-foot orc warrior with battle scars and intimidating tusks, but the whole me.

"I need somewhere to work," I admitted. "Can't exactly set up an easel in the barracks."

A slow smile spread across her face. "You could work here."

"Here?" My gaze darted around her small apartment. "But there's barely room for you."

"We'll make room. My place is closer to the competition venue anyway." She crossed to me, placing her small hand on my arm. Her touch sent warmth spiraling through me. "We could even collaborate on something."

"Collaborate?"

"A joint entry. Your landscapes with my sculptures, creating a 3D world." Her enthusiasm was infectious. "It could be amazing, Nar."

I stood, towering over her but feeling humbled by her generous spirit. "You'd do that for me?"

"With you," she corrected, standing on tiptoes to brush her lips against mine. "For us."

I gathered her close, breathing in her scent, careful not to squeeze too tight. My Emryn resembled a wildflower as delicate but resilient.

"There's just one problem," I murmured against her hair.

"What's that?"

"How am I going to sneak art supplies past my clan mates?"

The plan seemed simple enough. I'd tell my clan brothers I was spending time with my human woman—not untrue—and they'd assume I was just satisfying more... primal urges. No orc would question that. Then I'd slip away to Emryn's apartment each evening to work on our competition piece.

Simple. Foolproof. Except I'd forgotten the most important rule of the universe: nothing involving me ever goes according to plan.

"What's in the bag, Humperdink?" Kragthar boomed as I tried to sneak past the clan's communal area. The bag in question contained brushes, paints, and a rolled canvas—all recently purchased from the art supply store across town.

"Nothing," I said, too quickly. "Just training gear."

Kragthar's yellow eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Since when do you train with your human? Thought you were just rutting."

Several other orcs looked up, suddenly interested. Great. An audience.

"It's private," I growled, trying to sound menacing rather than terrified.

"Ooooh, private," hooted Grubnuk from his seat by the fire pit. "Let's see then! Got her some fancy lingerie?"

My mind raced. "It's herbs. For her." The words tumbled out before I could stop them.

Blank stares all around.

"Female herbs," I elaborated, cringing inside. "Human females need special herbs. For their monthly sword wounds."

There was a moment of stunned silence before the entire room erupted in disgusted groans and hurried retreats. No orc wanted to discuss human female biology. Crisis averted.

I escaped, my dignity only slightly wounded, and made it to Emryn's place with my contraband art supplies intact.

"You told them WHAT?" Emryn collapsed in a fit of giggles when I recounted the story, sprawled across her paint-spattered floor.

"It worked, didn't it?" I grumbled, but couldn't help smiling at her mirth. "They scattered like spooked goblins."

She wiped tears from her eyes. "Oh, Nar. You're something else."

"Something bad?"

"Something wonderful." She sat up, her laughter subsiding. "Now, shall we get to work on our masterpiece?"

The next week passed in a blur of colors and creation.

Emryn and I settled into a rhythm, working side by side in her small apartment.

I painted landscapes—rolling hills and mountains from my childhood home, while she created tiny clay figures to inhabit them.

We built a miniature world, half painting, half sculpture.

It was the happiest I'd been in years.

But keeping secrets from my clan was becoming increasingly difficult.

"You smell like chemicals," Thokk commented one morning after I returned from an all-night session at Emryn's. "What's your woman doing to you?"

"Mind your business," I snarled, but internally I panicked. I'd have to be more careful.

The following night, I tried sneaking out with a new canvas hidden inside my cloak. I made it all the way to the clan hall entrance before disaster struck.

"Chief wants everyone for night patrol," Grubnuk announced, nearly colliding with me. "Border skirmish with the Stone Fists. Grab your axe."

My blood ran cold. "Tonight? I can't. I have plans with Emryn."

Grubnuk's bushy eyebrows shot up. "Cancel them. Chief's orders."

I stood frozen, the canvas awkwardly concealed beneath my cloak. I couldn't refuse a direct order from our chief—that would raise too many questions. But Emryn was waiting for me, and we only had two weeks left before the competition deadline.

"Fine," I grunted. "Let me just prepare."

I darted outside, pulling out the communication crystal Emryn had given me. Human technology, unreliable but useful in emergencies. I activated it, waiting for her face to appear in the glowing stone.

"Nar? What's wrong?" Her concerned face materialized in the crystal's depths.

"Can't make it tonight. Clan emergency." The disappointment on her face made my chest ache. "I'll try to come by tomorrow."

"Don't worry about it. Just be safe." Her voice was understanding, but I could see the worry in her eyes. "The competition piece can wait."

But it couldn't wait forever. And as the days passed, my opportunities to work on it dwindled. Night patrols, weapons training, and clan meetings suddenly filled my schedule. Almost as if...

No. They couldn't know. It was just bad timing.

"They're onto us," I declared dramatically three days later, barging into Emryn's apartment with paint supplies hidden in a meat delivery bag.

"The meat's going to spoil if you keep using that bag for art supplies," she noted, failing to appreciate the gravity of my statement.

"Did you hear me? My clan suspects something."

Emryn looked up from her clay figures, a smudge of blue on her cheek that I found unreasonably adorable. "What makes you think that?"

"Suddenly I'm needed for every patrol, every training session, every stupid clan meeting about proper axe maintenance." I dropped onto her couch, deflated. "They're keeping me busy on purpose."

"Or maybe they just value you?" She set down her tools and came to sit beside me, her small frame fitting perfectly against mine. "You are their best warrior, after all."

I snorted. "I'm being paranoid, aren't I?"

"A little." She reached up to trace one of my tusks with her finger. "But it's cute."

"Orcs aren't cute," I growled halfheartedly, leaning into her touch.

"This one is." She kissed me lightly, then pulled back. "Now, we only have a few hours before you need to return. Let's make them count."

We worked intensely that evening, making significant progress on our piece.

The miniature world was coming together beautifully—my painted landscape merging seamlessly with Emryn's sculpted figures and trees.

We called it "Two Worlds, One Home," a representation of our different backgrounds finding harmony together.

It was personal. It was perfect.

And it was almost finished when disaster struck again.

I was carrying our nearly completed piece, carefully wrapped in protective cloth, to a safer storage place in Emryn's building when I literally ran into Thokk and Grubnuk on the street corner.

"Humperdink!" Grubnuk's voice boomed down the quiet street. "What are you doing in the artisan district?"

I froze, clutching our precious artwork. "Just visiting Emryn."

"What's that you're carrying?" Thokk's beady eyes fixed on my package.

"A gift," I said quickly. "For Emryn."

"Let's see it then." Grubnuk reached for the package.

I stepped back, panic rising. "It's private."

"More female herbs?" Thokk sneered.

"No, it's…"

"Is everything okay?" Emryn's voice came from behind me, and relief washed through me. She'd followed me out, my guardian angel in paint-splattered overalls.

My clan brothers straightened immediately. Despite their general disdain for humans, they respected Emryn for having "tamed" me, as they put it.

"Just wondering what lover-boy here is bringing you," Grubnuk grinned, tusks gleaming in the streetlight.

Emryn slipped beside me, her small hand finding mine. "Oh, that? It's a surprise. For me." She gave them a conspiratorial wink. "And I'd really appreciate if you let him deliver it properly."

The two orcs exchanged glances, then broke into knowing grins.

"Didn't take you for the romantic type, Humperdink," Thokk chuckled, punching my arm hard enough to make me wince.

"Get back to your wooing then," Grubnuk added with a wink that made me want to crawl under a rock. "Don't forget tomorrow's blood ritual. Can't be late again."

They lumbered away, laughing and making crude gestures.

I exhaled. "Quick thinking."

"I thought they'd never leave," Emryn said, squeezing my hand. "Are you okay?"

I nodded, but anxiety gnawed at my insides. "Two more close calls like that and I'll die of heart failure before the competition."

She laughed softly. "Just one more week, Nar. We can do this."

I looked down at her upturned face, moonlight catching in her blue eyes, and felt a surge of emotion so powerful it nearly knocked me back.

"We can do this," I repeated, believing it because she did.

But as we walked back to safely store our artwork, one thought kept circling in my mind: What would happen when the competition actually arrived? How would I explain my absence to the clan on that day? And what if, against all odds, we actually won?

The secret couldn't stay hidden forever. And somehow, that thought was both terrifying and exhilarating.