Page 20 of Ogres Don't Play

He smelled so good. I breathed in deeply and then needed to have a reason to be smelling him like an unhinged ogre addict,so I said, “I didn’t mean to wear your shirt. I know that offends your sensitive ogre feelings. Lanise must have dressed me in it while I was unconscious.” Was he going to bite my neck again? My neck prickled, and he glanced at it while his lips curled in a dangerous smile.

“Your new clothes are on the chair. I’ll be outside while you get changed.” He tugged twice more on the shirt and then turned and strode out, closing the door behind and leaving me feeling utterly bereft. Yep. My hands trembled like an ogre addict as I grabbed the pile of clothing and shook them out, staring at the elven light armor disguised as leggings, a long-sleeve t-shirt, and hooded robe that went over the entire thing. If I was wearing this when the goblins attacked, I would have had far fewer injuries. This was the sort of clothing diplomats and high elves wore, not sketchy music masters of super sketchy cities.

Where in the world had Rook gotten this kind of clothing, and why would he give it to me? He must have gotten it in trade some time for an instrument he made for some elf. That made sense. Because I always paid for instruments with priceless women’s armor.

I frowned down at the black shirt and then pulled it off, wincing when it tugged my injuries. My ribs and thigh were in the worst shape, but I was recovering, and not even itching. Except for the way I trembled with longing for the ogre’s strong arms to enclose me, I was totally fine.

Seriously? What had I ever done to deserve this kind of madness? I had things to do that didn’t involve falling desperately in love with the last man in the world I should want. My loving him would ruin him unless my father never found out about it, not to mention what it would do to my goals. Could I do that? Could I keep my feelings to myself? Sure I could. I was a grown woman. I’d wrestled the Music Hall back from the edge of ruin. I could certainly stop drooling over some random ogre whohad saved my life and was the most brilliant luthier of all time. No problem.

I rolled my eyes at myself and got dressed in the comfortable, practical, and protective clothing that would only be better if it weren’t all flower patterned. At least it was elven florals, which were shimmery and subtle instead of the garish florals my pocketbook could afford. I couldn’t accept this kind of clothing from Rook, not when I was going to tell him that the deal was off. I couldn’t see him again, or it would end in complete disaster. I’d take my chances with goblins. Still, I wasn’t going to wear his shirt again. Nope.

I took a deep breath and walked into the main room, the robe fluttering around my ankles as I tried to channel confidence. I was going back to the music hall, talk to Tiago and my other staff, then go get some sushi and hopefully find out some useful intel from Libby about how to fall out of love with ogres. It would be fine. No problem.

Chapter

Eight

His shop assistants were elven. I got that because I’d heard the music, but I hadn’t expected five of the prettiest elves, male and female, that I’d ever seen. These weren’t just middling musicians or whatever mixed with humanity that dulled all their precious beauty. These were the kind of elves that floated instead of walked, that carried mystical allure in every sweet-smelling breath they exhaled. Which was fine. Great, if you wanted to lure customers in with a pretty face and absolute competence, except that the prettiest female of the two was standing close to my Rook, gesturing with her graceful hands about something absolutely nonessential. Because I was going to break those wrists and put all of her in traction if she so much as touched my Rook, who was wearing my chicken on his shoulder.

She touched his arm.

My immediate impulse was to attack the creature and kill her as quickly and efficiently as possible. I’d trained with lions and harps and I was in a music shop, so the methods of killing her were fairly broad, but then my sense kicked in and I smiled at her instead. I walked over to her and grabbed her arm, pulling her away from him and towards me.

“You’re elven. How long have you been in Singsong city? Are you going to be here long? Your voice is incredible. I’m sure you’re aware that every citizen in Singsong City must donate to the cause of stability, particularly in Song, so the whole upper city doesn’t collapse on you and kill you all. I will have the werewolves come by and help inaugurate you into the program, along with your fine fellows. It’s only a few hours a week singing to the light posts as well as leading in parades and performing in one of the many musical programs that Singsong City is famous for, such as the upcoming Jubilee. Let me know what you’d like to perform for it. The city appreciates so much all the new citizens as well as the old working together to join in one great cause, that of peace, prosperity, and good feeling.”

I turned to Rook, who was now three feet away from her thanks to my persistent and impassioned love for my city, but mostly to get her away from him. At least I hadn’t broken her wrist, but I needed so much help. “Weren’t we going?”

He bowed slightly to me and tucked my hand into his arm. It sent a thrill through me that nothing else could compare to, not even music. The rest of the world became a blur because I was busy staring at him and then we were out on the street of Song, leaving the pretty elves behind.

“The clothing fits you well,” he rumbled, low voice carrying tones of deepest satisfaction.

I took a deep breath and pulled my arm out of his and then straightened the robe, like that’s what I’d meant to do. “Yes, it does. I haven’t worn elven light armor before. Thank you for giving me something besides your shirt to go home in. I could have gone naked, but I’m afraid that wouldn’t be very dignified for a music master.” Because my bright florals were so dignified. Ahem.

“It is yours,” he said with a nod and a flash of gold in his eyes, like I’d insulted him by not realizing it was a gift and takenit with gratitude. I seriously needed an ogre culture guidebook. There were so many things to say and do that I just didn’t know. I did know that this couldn’t go on, because his eyes were absolutely stunning, and I wanted to lick them. Literally, my mouth was watering like a busted fire hydrant. I wanted to comb my fingers through his hair and taste him all over.

Somehow, I took a slight step away from him. “Elven armor is extremely valuable. I couldn’t possibly accept that from you. As a matter of fact, I think it would be best if we went our separate ways, me to my issues, you to yours.”

“Do you have brain damage? You were at the end of a goblin assassination attempt. Your life is at risk.” His furrowed brow had furrows. I wanted so much to touch them, to touch him and forget about everything else in the world.

“I’m not an ogre.” He had to understand that sleeping with me, waking up with me, wasn’t ordinary behavior for anyone angel-touched. He’d heard me play the harp. He knew I had angel blood.

His scowl wasn’t minimized. “I know exactly what you are. You think that if you aren’t seen with me again, goblins won’t be a threat? That is foolishly optimistic.” His rumbling voice went through me like thunder and I took a helpless step towards him before I took two graceful lurches away.

I guess I had to spell it out. It’s not like I wasn’t used to humiliation. “Did you see that compulsive movement I just made towards you? That, Rook, isn’t okay. You speak and it’s music. You touch me and it’s fairy dust, the most illegal kind. I am having a weird reaction towards you, probably triggered by my long-time obsession with Rook the Luthier. The music didn’t help. It really was the single most fulfilling musical experience in my life, and music is my life. I am not interested in a casual fling with an exciting new kind of guy. Let me rephrase that. I’m not capable of a casual fling with any kind of person, exciting or not.I come from a long line of stupidly devoted monogamous angels who, when afflicted with the disease of love, never recover. I apologize for my lack of professionalism and my embarrassing frankness, but you needed to be warned.” I nodded and tried not to feel like a complete idiot. I failed. Desperately.

I half expected him to leap away and make an evil eye sign, but of course, an ogre wouldn’t do that. What would a heavenly eye sign look like? Instead, he squinted at me like I had sprouted an extra head. Yes, pointing out my sudden and irrational attraction wasn’t a normal thing to do, but me having this kind of reaction to an ogre was incredibly dangerous for both of us.

“You are warning me that you are preparing to make me your life-mate, your consort, your husband? That is very noble of you to give me an advanced warning. I should have realized when you wore my shirt.”

I blinked rapidly, because that wasn’t what I said, was it? No, I was telling him why we shouldn’t be together, not that we would be. Also, what was with the shirt? “No, I’m warning you about my nature. I have no intention of marrying you or anyone until I’ve brought the music hall back from the edge of oblivion. I’m the music master first.” Right. That was clear, wasn’t it? It felt like a complete lie when the notes to our duet played over and over in my head.

He put his arm around me and pulled me away from a drunk werewolf who would have veered into me without his interference. I hadn’t noticed the werewolf, but I certainly noticed the ogre. I gazed up at him while his touch went through me like the sweetest notes of my favorite song, which was now our duet.

His voice was a low rumble that gutted me. “I have complete confidence in your ability to turn SingSong’s music hall into the greatest in the world. I’ve never heard so much strength in a song, but not only strength, beauty, flexibility, raw emotioncombined with exquisite technique that entangles the emotions as well as the higher critical?—”

I cut him off with a kiss. I’d never kissed anyone before, angel, devil, or ogre, but if those words in his melodious voice kept coming out of those soft lips, I was going to die. I physically couldn’t stop my mouth from pressing against his, tusks and all. The slight prickle on my upper lip from his tusks went through me like music, a rush of high notes that crashed down into the depths, sweeping me away entirely.

How long did I stand on the street of Song kissing an ogre? No idea, but eventually Yaga burst into flames, and I broke away from the kiss with a shock. What in the world was I thinking? I was protecting him from my father, not painting a target on his back. Also, I was the music master, not some wanton street walker.

---