Page 8 of Tempted By the Orc

I let out a long breath, my decision made.

I’d stay.

Besides, I couldn’t stop thinking about Noel. I was worried about him, too. The storm was fierce, and he had left without hesitation to search for Cupid, even though it meant putting himself in danger. The thought of him out there, battling the elements alone, sent a pang of guilt through me. I had never met an Orc before—never expected one to be so...tender, so thoughtful.

He had taken care of me, even though he didn’t know me. Even though I was sure I had only brought trouble to his life.

I needed to do something. I couldn’t help him search, but maybe I could do something to make things a little easier for him when he returned. Something kind in return for all he had done for me.

With renewed purpose, I stood, careful not to put too much weight on my injured ankle. My eyes scanned the room, looking for something—anything—that could be useful. That’s when I noticed a small closet tucked into the corner of the cabin. I limped over and opened it, the door creaking softly on its hinges.

Inside, I found what I was looking for. Tucked away in the back, forgotten beneath a pile of old blankets, were a handful of Christmas decorations. A small box of ornaments, strings of garland, and a wreath, dusty but still intact. I smiled to myself. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

I gathered the decorations and set to work, hanging the garland along the beams and placing the wreath on the wall above the hearth. I found a small wooden table near the window and carefully arranged the delicate ornaments and tiny figurines, letting the room fill with a subtle warmth that hadn’t been there before. It wasn’t much, but it made the cabin feel...cozier. More like Christmas.

Once I was done, I hobbled to the kitchen, curious to see what I could find there. Noel’s cupboards were sparse, but I discovered enough ingredients to make something special. My heart leapt when I spotted a tin of spices and a bag of flour, and before I knew it, I was pulling out bowls and pans, my hands moving instinctively.

I had always loved to bake. It was something my mother had taught me, and it brought back warm memories of Christmases spent in the kitchen, covered in flour and sugar, as we made batch after batch of cookies for the elves and reindeer. My mother had always told me that baking was a form of love, a way to bring warmth to others.

I smiled at the thought as I set to work, kneading the dough and mixing in spices, humming softly to myself as the smell of ginger and cinnamon filled the cabin. I made several batches—lebkuchen, spiced with honey and cloves; zimtsterne, delicate cinnamon stars with a sweet glaze; and pfeffernüsse, small peppery cookies dusted in powdered sugar. They were old recipes, ones that had been passed down through generations, and I had mastered them all.

As I baked, the cabin began to feel less like a place of hiding and more like...a home. It was strange, how quickly the little cabin had become a refuge. How quickly Noel had become someone I trusted, even though I didn’t fully understand why.

I was just pulling the last batch of cookies from the oven when I heard the door creak open. My heart leapt into my throat, and I spun around, my eyes locking onto Noel as he stepped inside, brushing snow from his shoulders. He looked exhausted, his brow furrowed with frustration, but the moment his eyes fell on me, and then on the cabin, something shifted in his expression.

“Did you find him?” I asked, setting the tray of cookies on the counter as I hurried toward him.

Noel shook his head, his jaw tight. “No. The storm’s too strong. I’ll have to try again later, before the sun goes down.”

I frowned, disappointment settling in my chest. Poor Cupid. I knew he was out there somewhere, probably hunkereddown, waiting for the storm to pass. He wasn’t malicious, just stubborn, and I hoped he was staying safe.

But Noel’s gaze wasn’t on the storm anymore—it was on the cabin, his eyes scanning the garland, the wreath, and the table decorated with ornaments. He blinked, as if he wasn’t sure what he was seeing. I bit my lip, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

“I...found some decorations,” I said, shrugging. “I thought it might make things a little more festive.”

Noel’s face softened, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to brighten his otherwise serious expression. “You did all this?”

I nodded, feeling a bit shy under his gaze. “And I made cookies.” I gestured to the counter where the trays of freshly baked cookies were cooling. “There’s cocoa, too.”

For a moment, Noel just stared at me, his dark eyes filled with something I couldn’t quite read. Then, without a word, he stepped closer, his presence filling the room. My breath hitched as he moved toward the fire, pulling off his gloves and hanging his coat on the rack near the door. I was tempted to go to him, to wrap my arms around him in an impulsive hug, but I held back. The air between us felt charged, and I didn’t trust myself not to get swept up in it.

Instead, I busied myself with the cookies, arranging them on a plate before bringing them to the small table near the fire. Noel sat down heavily in the chair, his large frame making the furniture look small by comparison. I poured two cups of cocoa and handed him one, our fingers brushing as I passed it to him. A spark of warmth shot through me at the contact, and I quickly pulled away, trying to hide the blush creeping up my cheeks.

He took a sip of the cocoa, his eyes closing briefly as if savoring the warmth. “You didn’t have to do this,” he said quietly.

“I wanted to,” I replied, sitting across from him. “You’ve been so kind to me. I thought...It was the least I could do.”

Noel didn’t respond right away, but his gaze lingered on me for a moment longer than I expected. There was something in his eyes—something that made my heart race, even though I didn’t understand why. He was so...intense. And yet, I didn’t feel afraid. Not of him.

As we sat there, the fire crackling softly in the background, the cabin felt strangely peaceful. For the first time in days, I wasn’t running, wasn’t consumed by fear. And it was because of the Orc.

I glanced at him, my heart fluttering as I took in his strong jaw, the way his dark hair fell slightly over his forehead, his broad shoulders. He had taken care of me when he didn’t have to, protected me when I was vulnerable. And despite his gruffness, there was a tenderness in him that I hadn’t expected.

I couldn’t deny it any longer—I was drawn to him. There was something about Noel that made me feel safe. And more than that, there was a warmth between us, a spark that made my heart race whenever he was near.

But I still couldn’t trust him. Not fully. Not yet.

“I need to tell you something,” I said quietly, breaking the silence.

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