Page 8 of How To Woo A Warrior Orc

I squeeze my thighs together surreptitiously under the table.

“The easy part?” the trembling baby witch in front of me asks, her food still untouched.

“What’s your name?” I ask her, wanting to put her at ease. “That’s the easiest question I know.” She swallows, her throat bobbing, and I nudge the plate closer to her. “Eat. That will help.”

“Will it make them go away?” she whispers, her eyes huge.

I shake my head, so impossibly sad for her. I’m not one-hundred percent sure of the powers she’s manifested so late, but I have a sneaking suspicion she’s a seer, and not in the traditional sense.

A shadow seer, one who can converse with those who have departed this mortal plane.

“It won’t make them go away,” I tell her, and I suppress a shiver as I feel my mother’s hand against the nape of my neck again.

Ga’Rek’s watching me curiously, steadily eating sandwich after sandwich.

“It won’t make them go away,” I repeat, reaching out my hand and covering the other witch’s with mine. “But it will help you control your gift. What’s your name?” I ask again.

“Violet. Violet Islish.” She blinks, looking just over my shoulder, where I’m fairly certain my mother’s shade is hovering.

“Don’t be afraid,” I tell her, squeezing her hand before letting go. “The shades are nothing to be scared of. They’re here to guide you. You don’t come from… a family of witches, do you?”

She shakes her head no. The paper around the sandwich crinkles as she grabs half, barely audible over the sound of the rain on the glass windows.

It blows now in nearly horizontal sheets against the front of the store, the storm winds howling around the second story.

Ga’Rek glances at me and we both eat quietly, listening to the sounds of the violent autumn storm from our snug corner of The Pixie’s Perch.

And waiting for our new friend Violet to feel safe enough to share her story with us.

Impulsively, I reach across to where Ga’Rek’s hand rests on his table, and I cover it with mine.

I can’t help but grin at the thought, because my hand doesn’t even come close to covering his. It’s a dab of pale skin against a sea of green, and I’m smiling at the contrast in sizes as I glance up at his face, heartened by the simple touch.

His mouth hangs open, his green throat bobbing as he swallows.

Air whooshes out of my lungs in embarrassment.

Trying to hold Ga’Rek’s hand was not my brightest move, and shame dapples my chest and neck with flames of red.

Until he turns his hand over, grasping at mine the moment I begin to pull away.

We’re staring at each other, that heat of shame climbing into my cheeks and turning into a different kind of heat entirely, when Violet begins to speak.

CHAPTER FOUR

GA’REK

She’s sought my touch not once, not twice, but now thrice.

Her dainty hand rests tentatively inside mine, so small and delicate that I’m afraid to move for accidentally hurting her. This hand that has only known violence and is calloused from years of holding a sword now holds something so precious I feel as though my heart might burst from the simple joy of it.

It takes me a moment to realize the scared woman has begun to speak, because I can’t stop watching the way her hand sits inside mine.

“It started a few months ago,” she says, her voice quailing. Her dark brown eyes flit between us and some spot just over Piper’s shoulder.

A chill breeze brushes across the nape of my neck, and I rub one hand over it absentmindedly.

“It’s okay, Violet,” Piper says, her voice calm and strong.

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