Page 6 of The Passionate Orc (The Teddy Orcs #1)

E mryn

I stared at the eviction notice in my hand, the paper trembling between my fingers.

Three months. That's all I had left in the space that had become my sanctuary, my creative haven, my home away from home.

The landlord was selling the building to some faceless corporation that wanted to turn it into luxury apartments or something equally soulless.

"This can't be happening," I whispered to the empty studio.

Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, catching dust motes in its beams and illuminating my latest canvas, an explosion of blues and purples that had felt so hopeful yesterday.

Now it just looked sad. I sank onto my paint-splattered stool and tried to breathe through the panic tightening my chest.

I needed this studio. Not just for my art, but for the classes I taught to neighborhood kids on weekends. Without it, I'd lose both my creative space and a chunk of my income. My phone buzzed with a text, and Nar's name lit up the screen.

Still on for dinner tonight? Made reservations at that new place you mentioned.

My heart did that stupid little flutter it always did when I saw his name.

Even with disaster looming, thinking about those broad shoulders and warm brown eyes made my stomach flip.

It had only been three weeks since we'd met at that gallery opening, but already I couldn't imagine my days without him.

I texted back quickly: Yes, but can we talk somewhere private after? Something's happened.

His response was immediate: Coming over now.

I didn't have time to tell him it wasn't necessary before I heard the familiar sound of his motorcycle in the alley behind my studio. Of course, he'd drop everything. That was Nar, protective, impulsive, and weirdly attuned to my moods already.

When he ducked through my doorway (literally ducked because the orc was massive), I felt the air change in the room.

Nar filled spaces, not just with his physical presence, though God knows those shoulders took up plenty of room, but with his energy.

His dark eyes scanned my face, immediately picking up on my distress.

"What's wrong?" His voice was low, rumbling with concern as he crossed the room in three strides.

I tried to smile, but failed miserably. "My landlord's selling the building. I have three months before I have to be out."

Nar's jaw tightened, his tusks gleaming in the afternoon light. I'd learned that was his thinking face, the one where he was trying to solve a problem rather than smash through it. He took the notice from my hands, those large fingers surprisingly gentle.

"This is your life," he said, eyes narrowing as he read. "They can't just take it away."

I sighed, leaning against my workbench. "They can if they own it. The rent's been cheap because the building's old, but now some developer wants to 'revitalize' the neighborhood."

"Revitalize," Nar spat the word like it tasted bad. "You mean make it too expensive for artists."

"Exactly." I gestured around at the space I'd spent three years making my own.

The shelves of supplies, the walls covered in canvases, the corner where neighborhood kids made their first artistic discoveries.

"I don't know what I'm going to do. Studio spaces are impossible to find at prices I can afford. "

Nar was quiet for a moment, his eyes roaming around the studio before settling back on me. He reached out and brushed a strand of hair from my face, his touch sending sparks across my skin.

"What about that art competition you mentioned? The one with the cash prize?"

I blinked. "The Harrington Foundation Grant? That's $25,000, Nar. It would be enough for a down payment on a small commercial space, but..." I trailed off, doubt creeping in. "The competition is fierce. Some of the best artists in the city enter."

Nar made that grumbling sound in his chest that I learned meant he was dismissing my doubts. "Your work is better than theirs."

"You're biased," I said, but I couldn't help smiling at his unwavering belief in me.

"I have excellent taste." He grinned, those tusks making his smile uniquely his. My heart skipped again. "When's the deadline?"

"Two months from now. But even if I won—and that's a huge if—I'd still need more money for renovations, security deposit, moving costs..."

Nar's eyes lit up in a way that both thrilled and terrified me. I'd seen that look before, right before he'd decided to "fix" my leaky sink and flooded my bathroom.

"We'll raise the money," he declared.

"We?" I raised an eyebrow.

"You helped me embrace my art," he said, suddenly serious. "Let me help you save yours."

The way he looked at me then, so earnest, so determined, made my chest ache. Three weeks ago, he'd been a stranger. Now, somehow, he was offering to fight my battles alongside me. I leaned into him, and his arms came around me automatically, solid and secure.

"Thank you," I whispered against his chest.

He pressed his lips to the top of my head. "We start planning tonight. After dinner."

"After dinner," I agreed.

Dinner was a blur. I barely tasted the food, my mind racing with calculations and worst-case scenarios. Nar noticed, of course. He always noticed.

"You're not eating," he said, reaching across the table to take my hand. His thumb brushed over my knuckles in a way that sent heat up my arm.

"Sorry. Just thinking." I forced myself to take a bite of pasta.

"About the studio?"

I nodded. "About everything I'll lose if I can't find a solution."

Nar's expression darkened. "You won't lose anything. I promised to help."

"I know, but?—"

"No buts." He squeezed my hand gently. "Let's go back to your place and figure this out."

An hour later, we sprawled on my living room floor, surrounded by papers covered in Nar's surprisingly neat handwriting. Fundraising ideas ranged from the practical to the absurd.

"An art auction?" I suggested, chewing on the end of my pencil.

"Good, but boring," Nar countered. "What about a paint-a-thon? People pay to watch you create art for 24 hours straight."

I laughed. "Nobody wants to watch me paint for that long. I get grumpy after hour five."

"I'd watch." The intensity in his eyes made my cheeks blush.

"What about—" I started, then stopped as a thought struck me. "Wait. Your paintings."

Nar stiffened slightly. His art was still a sensitive subject. It had taken weeks for him to show me his work, worried his clan would see his painting as a weakness. "What about them?"

"They're amazing, Nar. That landscape series you did—the one with the mountains at sunset—it's incredible."

He shifted uncomfortably, but I could see the pleasure in his eyes. "They're just practice pieces."

"They're beautiful. And..." I hesitated, then plunged ahead. "What if we sold them as part of the fundraiser? Not just as paintings, but as 'authentic orc-made art.'"

Nar blinked. "You want to sell my art as... novelty items?"

"Not novelty exactly, but—" I sat up straighter, excitement building. "Think about it. There's a huge market for unique cultural art. Your work combines traditional techniques with orc symbolism. It's special, Nar. And people would pay for that uniqueness."

He considered this, his brow furrowed. "You think people would buy art because an orc made it?"

"I think people would buy it because it's beautiful and because it offers a perspective they've never seen before," I corrected. "The fact that you're breaking stereotypes by being an orc artist would just be part of the story."

A slow smile spread across his face. "You want to use my cultural identity as a marketing tool."

"Is that weird? I'm sorry if?—"

He cut me off with a laugh. "Emryn, my clan sells tourist trinkets with 'authentic orc craftsmanship' stamped on them. Half of them are made in factories." His eyes sparkled with amusement. "This would at least be the real thing."

Relief washed over me. "So you're not offended?"

"I'm..." He paused, seeming to search for the right words. "I'm touched that you think my work is good enough to sell."

The vulnerability in his voice made my heart squeeze. I moved closer to him, my knee brushing his thigh as I gathered up some papers.

"It's more than good enough. It's extraordinary." I meant it. His art had a raw emotionality that took my breath away.

Nar reached for me then, his large hand cupping my face with surprising gentleness. "You're the only one who's ever seen that part of me."

The air between us thickened. His thumb brushed my bottom lip, and I felt my pulse leap in response. Before I could overthink it, I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his.

He responded immediately, pulling me closer until I was practically in his lap. His kiss was exactly like him, powerful yet restrained, passionate yet careful. When we broke apart, we were both breathing hard.

"Sorry," I whispered, not sorry at all. "Got carried away with the fundraising excitement."

His rumbling laugh vibrated through me. "Feel free to get carried away anytime." His eyes darkened. "But we should probably get back to planning."

With reluctance, I shifted back to my spot on the floor, though my lips still tingled from his kiss. "Right. So, orc art is one idea. What else?"

We spent the next two hours brainstorming with the list growing increasingly ridiculous.

"Paint portraits of people's pets dressed as historical figures?" I read from Nar's list, laughing.

"People love their pets," he defended. "And who wouldn't want to see their cat dressed as Napoleon?"

"Oh! What about body painting?" I suggested. "People would pay to have temporary art on their skin."

Nar's eyebrows shot up. "You want to paint on strangers' bodies?"

"It's a legitimate art form!" I protested, though his expression of mock jealousy made me giggle.

"The only body you're painting is mine," he growled playfully, and the image of Nar shirtless while I decorated his muscled chest with paint sent heat flooding through me.

"That could actually be part of the fundraiser," I mused, trying to sound professional despite my flushed cheeks. "Live body painting demonstration."

He eyed me suspiciously. "Just me, right?"

"Just you," I confirmed with a smile. "Your first public art exhibition."

The panic that flashed across his face reminded me of his dilemma. "My clan?—"

"Would never attend an art fundraiser," I finished for him. "It's safe, I promise."

He relaxed slightly, though concern still lingered in his eyes. "What about an arm wrestling booth? Five dollars to challenge an orc warrior."

I imagined Nar crushing the hands of overconfident men who thought they could take him. "You'd make a fortune."

By midnight, we had a solid plan: a multi-faceted fundraising event with Nar's paintings as the centerpiece, along with live demonstrations, an auction of my work, and yes, an arm wrestling booth. We'd need to rent a space, handle marketing, and prepare enough art to sell, but it felt possible.

"Thank you," I said as Nar helped me gather the scattered papers. "For everything."

He pulled me to my feet and into his arms. "This is just the beginning, Emryn. I'm not letting you lose your studio."

The determination in his voice made me believe him. Standing there in the circle of his arms, I felt something shifting between us—something deeper than the physical attraction that had drawn us together initially.

"Stay tonight?" I asked, surprising myself with my boldness.

His eyes darkened, but he shook his head. "Not tonight. I want to start those new paintings for the fundraiser." He brushed his lips against mine softly. "Rain check?"

The tenderness in the gesture nearly undid me. This mountain of a man who could probably bench press my entire art supply cabinet was treating me like I was precious.

"Rain check," I agreed, walking him to the door.

As I watched him disappear down the hallway, I leaned against my doorframe and let out a shaky breath. Three weeks ago, I'd been single and focused solely on my art. Now I was facing the loss of my studio and falling for an orc who painted landscapes in secret.

Life had a funny way of changing just when you thought you had it figured out.