Page 8 of Lost to the Orcs

“You smell divine mate.” I watch as he takes in a breath of what can probably only be one meaning.

“P-put me down!” My voice is high pitch in my embarrassment. My face a brilliant red.

“Ach, but then I couldnae smell you so well.” His lips widen into a saucy and flirty grin. His eyes a warm honey as his accent thickens.

I’m left gawping at him like a fish. No. NO. “Th-that’s the point!” I sputter. You buffoon. Can’t you get a single word out without sounding like an idiot? Considering my reactions, I really really am one, but do I have tolooklike one too??

He grins before shaking his head. “Your feet.” The reminder makes my feet tingle. Oh yeah. “I provide more salve.” He looks at me again before continuing forward. “For all that pains you.” His gaze is molten gold that clenches my tummy in ways I shouldnotbe thinking of. Especially not with a big green male. Definitely not a male with tusks. Can he even—NO. Shut it down.

“I can walk.”

“No’ for a time.” He caresses my thigh with a thumb. “I weel carry you.”

CHAPTER SEVEN: FEMALE ORCS

We arrive in the clearing, not long after. U’snar sits with me in his lap. He takes a small container from a pack he snatched up before we sat down. The container reminds me of old beauty products but instead of pigmented powder, inside is green sludge. The same sludgy slime that had been on my slice. He takes some on his first two fingers after washing his hands with more water, and gently wipes it against my skin. Starting at my shoulder and gliding gently, slowly; so slowly down. I’m flushed with embarrassment but he doesn’t stare. At least, not while I’m looking. I have no idea if he takes a peak when I close my eyes to shut him out. But then all I can think about and feel are hisfingers. As they glide on my skin in gentle caresses.

My eyes widen, large in my face as I jerk my head up to look at him. I can feel him. My butt is nestled against his lap and something else. Something straining for release. My breath hitches as it pulses against me, as if to acknowledge my thoughts. As if to confirm them. Our eyes meet briefly before he drops his gaze back to his hands and the salve he is slathering on my skin.

He lifts me off his lap and places me on my butt on the grass, taking a foot and removing the leather. He hisses, brows meeting in a furrow. His golden gaze narrowed. “Jaedason weel no’ be pleased.”

To distract myself from him and his hands I ask, “Wh-Who is Jaedason?”

“Jaedason is chief t’ ‘he tribe. Son of Jaeda. She was a great Orc woman.”

“There are Orc women?” Many books I read do not have Orc Women in them. So this is nice. It means the males are not dependent on human females to procreate! Except maybe U’snar. Considering he is set upon me being his ‘mate’.

He nods. “They are rare. Like black pearls. You are rarer.” He caresses my ankle in acknowledgment. A shiver dances across my skin. “Like dream weavers.” He taps his chin before nodding, confirming his own thoughts. “They are rarer than black pearls.”

“What’s a dream weaver?”

He hums lost in thought as he continues to wipe the goo on my cut-up feet. “Dream weaver’s have magic. They take you here,” he points at his chest, where his heart is, “an’ take you elsewhere. Different places.”

“What kind of places?” My brows pinch in confusion. Nose scrunched to emphasize this fact.

He hums again. Trying to convey to me what this place is. “They are strange places. With tall towers. But no’ round stone walls. They have sharp edges. Screaming metal runs faster than any beast on hard black sand. Hard walls you see yourself in. Like water but much clearer. No forests, merely sparse trees here an’ there.” I stare at him in a mix of awe and horror.

“Cars? Windows or do you mean mirrors?” It’s his turn to stare at me. His golden gaze is narrowed and his brows furrowed. I’m not sure what emotions are passing over his features but it fills me with nervous tension.

“You have met a dream weaver?”

“I—No. I mean, I don’t think so?” Could it have been a dream? Living an entire life as someone else? Oh my god. Do I even look like me? But if I’m not from the 21st century, then why don’t I remember my life here? I don’t know about Orcs except from books frommytime. From fairy tales. They’re the bad guys. Not this nice, talking, humongous; I hesitate at beast because he is no monster and I can’t really say man either because he definitely is not a man, so I’ll settle on Orc. They weren’t this nice, or relatively kind, humongous Orc. (I still can’t believe he can literally use me as an arm rest.) Just mean and sometimes fat dumb dumbs.

“Sometimes, dream weaving makes one forget.”

“Forget?”

He looks at me pointedly. “Lost.” Ah. He thinks I met a dream weaver and lost my memory. I shrug. For all I know I could have. But it doesn’t feel right.

“How would I know?”

He sits back, his duty done. “Dream weavers can feel their kinds magic.” He waves over me like a blanket.

“The magic on me?” He nods. “So, they will know if I have met with one?” Again, another nod. “Can we meet one?”

He frowns deeply. It cuts into his skin and unnaturally twists his lips. I can see how people might call Orcs ugly if they frown like that often. He glances at the sky and takes in a deep breath as if to center himself. He starts to put away our items. I mean not really ours. The only things I own are the skirt on my bottom and well, that’s really it. This cape is his. And my shirt has mysteriously disappeared. “Maybe.” He finally answers when he’s all packed. “The heat ends soon. It weel be hard t’ find one before then.”

“But it can be done?”

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