Page 14 of His Orc Lady

I should step away, shake off his grip and stand on my own two feet, but I simply cannot make myself move. Instead, I gawkat him like a simpleton, my senses overwhelmed, my thoughts absent as if my head has been filled with wool.

“My lady?” he prompts me at last. “Mara? Did I hurt you?”

“N-no,” I stammer. “I’m fine. You smell nice.”

The moment the words leave my mouth, I realize what I said. I close my eyes in embarrassment, hoping a hole would open up in the hallway and swallow me up. But when I glance at Owen again, he’s still there, still holding me—only now he’s flushed and smiling at me in a slightly incredulous, happy way.

“I’m so sorry.” I take a step back, which I should have done sooner, given how his presence is impacting me. “Can you—can you please forget I said that?”

He shakes his head as if dismayed. “Alas, a compliment like that will stay forever burned in my mind.”

He’s teasing me, the beast, so I scrunch up my nose at him. “That’s not very kind of you, poking fun of my embarrassment.”

“No, but perhaps I can even the playing field.” He gives me a small bow, keeping his gaze on me. “You smell nice, too, Mara.”

Heat rushes into my cheeks, and I suddenly don’t know what to do. I spent years after my parents’ deaths unmoored, unsure of what my role in life would be, but when I followed my cousin on a dangerous, months-long move across the country to escape our old king and build a new homeland for our people, I found my purpose.

I’ve gotten used to knowing what is expected of me—and being good at those tasks. I haven’t been called useless in more than a decade, and I’d hoped to keep it that way indefinitely.

Now, though, I’m at a loss. The captain has just given me a compliment, yet I don’t know how to respond—is he teasing me or is he serious? Are human senses good enough that they can distinguish our scents in the way we do theirs? Does he know what he’s saying to me?

I stare at him and finally decide that he can’t possibly understand. He must be scenting my honey soap or the herbal oil I’d put in my hair—not the essence of me.

“Thank you,” I force out. “That’s—that’s nice of you to say.”

He cocks his head to the side, considering me. “How is it that you smell like strawberries in the middle of the winter?” Then his eyes go wide, and he jerks back from me. “I didn’t mean to be rude, I just… I like it.”

My breath stalls in my throat. “Strawberries?”

He rubs the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed. “Now I’m the one who would ask you to forget I ever said a thing like that.”

But I reach out before I can think better of it and grab his sleeve. “Are you certain it’s strawberries?”

“Quite.” Owen frowns at me, his straight eyebrows knitting together. “Your scent reminds me of summertime. I assumed it’s your soap…”

Whatever he sees in my expression has him clearing his throat, and I realize I’m still clinging on to his arm. I release him abruptly, wondering how to explain my behavior.

If what he says is true—and he doesn’t have a reason to lie, at least not one I can fathom right now—he’s scentingme. In a way that an orc mate would. If this is true, then it’s not just me who’s been affected by this—thisthing.

If he’s feeling the same kind of attraction to me as I am to him, why is he holding back?

“Yes,” I say belatedly. “My soap.”

My voice sounds hollow even to my ears, and from how Owen is staring at me, I assume I’m not being very convincing.

I do my best to shake off the thoughts that are crowding in my head, the instinct urging me to step closer to him, to put a hand on his chest and see if he smells even better up close.

“I was searching for you, actually,” I blurt out before he can say anything else.

He perks up at this. “You were?”

“Aye, it’s about your men. They seemed somewhat…bored, so I sent them to the baths with two of our warriors to pass the time. I think it would be good if they could join the clan at various activities, whether it be hunting or training.”The longer I’m speaking, the more composed I am. I can do this—even if being near Owen without touching him is growing difficult. “You could talk to the king about it…”

He gives me a small smile. “I just have. And you’re right, he agreed to let them join in with the guard rotations and the training so they can see how the Hill works. But at least half of them will be leaving for home soon, before the weather turns much worse.”

My heart thuds, pain exploding through my chest. “But you’re—you’re staying?”

I only just found you.

---