Page 50 of Bossed By the Orc

“Are you sure?” I asked, gnawing on my lower lip.

He grunted again, waving me off and I made my way to sit, my hands twisting as I watched him make quick work of everything. He used his hands to sweep the broken china and then dumped them into the trash.

“Are you okay?” I called, standing and on the verge of running over.

He pointed a thick finger at me. “Don’t even think about it. I have orc-skin and you’re a delicate little human,” he barked.

My jaw dropped at his words. “I’m not delicate,” I gasped, offended.

He raised a brow and used a sharp edged fragment of china to stab himself on his forearm. I squeaked, holding my hands out as if I could stop him from a distance, but when he pulled it away, he lifted the area. It was perfectly smooth, no cuts in sight.

“I’m assuming that if I do the same thing to you, you’d bleed to death,” he drawled. That sardonic eyebrow still high.

I gave him a mighty scowl and huff before dropping to the sofa again, my arms folded over my chest. He continued cleaning, sending amused glances my way, but I didn’t let up on my glare. A ping on my phone disrupted me and I pulled it from my pocket, smiling as I saw Becca’s name.

“Who’s that?” Dristan called, yellow eyes narrowed at me, his lip already curled in annoyance.

“None of your business, since you decided to be mean to me,” I called, sticking my tongue out at him. He grumbled a few things under his breath but kept his eyes on me as he picked up dozens of dishes off the table with ease.

I held in a sigh of appreciation as his muscles moved under his shirt. I was still irked at him. I looked down at my phone, trying to distract myself.

Becca: There’s something weird happening down here, Pen. These development people are saying they own your house, and they have papers to prove it.

My eyes went wide and I dialed her number right away.

“Oh thank the Gods,” she whispered as soon as she answered. “I know your work schedule is weird so I didn’t want to call you, but you might need to come home.”

“Why are you whispering?” I asked her, my entire body stiff with worry. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m trying not to worry your parents,” she said a little louder as I heard the sound of our screen door close behind her—the familiar sound sending a rush of nostalgia through me. “But I saw the papers they keep sending them in letters. They look legit. Even Sheriff Burke’s confused.”

“But there’s no way, Becca. I paid the bank. And they would have had to send a notice or something,” I explained. “There’s no way they could own our house.”

I saw Dristan’s head swing up at that, his yellow eyes focused on me now. I bit my lip, wishing I’d taken the call in the bedroom so I could keep him away from the drama happening back home, but it was too late now.

“I don’t know, Pen,” she sounded doubtful. “That deed looked pretty real to me.”

“A deed?” I gasped, my hand going to my chest, covering my heart as a jolt of fear shot through it. “No, something has to be wrong.”

“You have to come home,” she said, regret in her voice. “And I know the timing is terrible with your new job and everything. I get that. But this is important.”

“Of course,” I agreed, standing, my knees feeling shaky under me. “I’ll come home as soon as I can. I should have done it when Mom called. When those men showed up.”

“That’s why I came over,” she responded. “When I heard they’d been over here, I knew something was going on. Don’t you worry, Pen. No one’s kicking your parents out of this house if I have anything to say about it.”

“I love you,” I told her, a tear sliding down my cheek and I swiped it away. I watched Dristan’s face transform into a dark glower. “Take care of them until I get there, okay?”

“I will, don’t you worry about it,” she assured me. “But come soon. I don’t have any legal say on this place. We need you.”

“I’ll leave as soon I can,” I declared. “I’ll see you soon.”

I hung up the phone, standing and hurrying toward the hallway leading to the bedrooms. I wasn’t prepared to be lifted off my feet and spun to face Dristan. I batted at him, in a hurry, but he held firm on my shoulders until I focused on him.

“First,” he growled, “who the hell was that on the phone?”

“Becca, my best friend,” I answered—still trying to escape him—and he nodded, his expression clearing slowly.

“Good. And where are you going?” He kept me still with one giant hand clamped on a shoulder while he ran the other over my lower back, pulling me close.

---