Page 3 of Bidding on Her Orc Boss

“How enlightened of us,” I mutter, crossing my arms over my chest. The idea of schmoozing with a bunch of humans makes my skin crawl, but Urul’s not entirely wrong. Not that I’d ever admit it out loud. “Fine,” I mutter, “but if anyone tries to ropeme into karaoke, or worse, one of those group dance numbers, I’m out. There’s only so much civilization this orc can take in one night.”

Urul grins, gesturing towards the door with an exaggerated flourish. “After you, your grumpiness.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “I don’t need a babysitter, Urul. I’m perfectly capable of dressing myself and finding my way to a ridiculous party without an escort.”

“Oh, I’m sure you are,” he says, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “But if you’re late or decide to pull a no-show, it’s my ass on the line. And let me tell you something, cousin.” He steps closer, his expression suddenly serious. “If that happens, you’ll be the one explaining to my beautiful mate why you ignored her very good idea of hosting this national sales meeting.”

I feel my shoulders slump involuntarily. Damn him. He knows exactly which buttons to push. The thought of disappointing Poppy, with her infectious smile and boundless enthusiasm, makes my stomach churn. I may be a curmudgeon, but I’m not a monster. Well, not that kind of monster, anyway.

“Fine,” I growl, stomping towards the door. “Lead the way, cousin. Let’s go make nice with the humans and pretend we’re all just one big happy corporate family.”

Urul doesn’t even try to hide his smirk. “I knew you’d see reason,” he says, clapping me on the shoulder. I resist the urge to shrug him off, knowing it would only fuel his amusement.

“Reason has nothing to do with it,” I grumble, following him out of the office. “It’s pure self-preservation. Your mate is terrifying when she’s disappointed.”

“That she is,” Urul agrees, a hint of pride in his voice. “Now, off to the stylist. Can’t have you showing up looking like you’ve been living in a cave.”

I glance down at my perfectly acceptable attire. “What’s wrong with how I look?”

“Nothing, if you’re aiming for ‘disgruntled troll under a bridge,’” Urul quips.

“At least trolls don’t have to suffer through corporate schmoozing.” I snort, falling into step beside him. “But I’m not wearing a tie.”

I trudge down the hallway, Urul’s cheerful whistling behind me grating on my last nerve. As we approach the stylist’s room, I can’t help but feel like I’m marching to my own execution.

“You know,” Urul pipes up, “this wouldn’t be so bad if you’d just loosen up a bit. Maybe even smile once in a while.”

I snort, my tusks jutting out as I scowl. “I’ll smile when there’s something to smile about. Like when this whole ordeal is over and I’m back in my office, alone.”

We reach the stylist’s door, and I hesitate, my hand hovering over the knob. Urul claps me on the shoulder, nearly sending me stumbling forward. Sometimes I forget how strong he is.

“Come on, X. It’s just a bit of primping. You might even enjoy it.”

I turn to him, my expression deadpan. “The day I enjoy being fancied up, is the day I give up being an orc and take up residence with the vampires.”

Despite my protests, I know I’m fighting a losing battle. With a deep, resigned sigh that rumbles through my chest, I push open the door and step inside. The overpowering scent of various grooming products assaults my sensitive nose, and I wrinkle it in distaste.

A petite human woman with rainbow-colored hair bounces towards us, her smile so bright it’s almost blinding. “Mr. Sonagh! We’ve been expecting you. Are you ready for your transformation?”

I glance back at Urul, silently pleading for a last-minute reprieve. He just grins and gives me a thumbs up.

Traitor.

I turn back to the woman whose startlingly white teeth make me think of demons. I suppress a groan. This is going to be a long day.

Chapter Three

Zana

Obsidian City is justa little skip of an airplane ride from home, but it might as well be another world. It grew out of the ashes of Chicago after the Rift Wars, transforming from a bustling metropolis into a freeholding city of Otherkin. Now it’s part of a network of monster-controlled cities that keep our little sliver of space-time whole and non-alien-invasion-y. You’re welcome, humanity.

As I navigate through the airport, dodging a harried-looking werewolf juggling too many suitcases, I can’t help but think about my grandparents. They still remember what it was like not being able to trust anyone from the other side of the rift. The stories they told me as a kid... Let’s just say they make today’s airport security look like a cakewalk.

“Excuse me,” a voice rumbles behind me. I turn to see a towering minotaur in a crisp business suit. “You dropped this.”

He hands me my phone, which I hadn’t even realized I’d fumbled in my daze. “Oh, thanks,” I manage, trying not to stare at his impressive horns. “Nice, uh, suit.”

He nods politely and lumbers away, leaving me to ponder the surreal normalcy of it all. Thankfully, this new generation knows a little better now. Without our Otherkin alliances, we wouldn’t have our semblance of normal. And let’s face it, “normal” is a pretty stretchy concept these days.

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