Page 31 of His Orc Lady

“What is it you want to show me?”

I’ve been trying to figure it out—because what could he possibly have in mind? I’m the steward of this Hill, and there’s no one here who knows the palace better than I do. So is it something in his room, something he brought from the human lands?

He peers down at my feet. “You’re wearing boots, correct?”

“Aye.” I frown at him. “Where are we going?”

He gives me an enigmatic smile, but a moment later, I realize how far we’ve come since leaving the stables. And what lies in front of us.

We walk into the entrance hall, and Owen stops and faces me. He gently unpeels my hand from his elbow—because I’m gripping it tight, my body reacting as it always does to theproximity of the outside world. Then he undoes the ties at the collar of his cloak, takes it off his shoulders, and slings it around mine. With deft fingers, he fastens the cloak in place and brushes my shoulders lightly, the caress too brief to comfort me.

“N-no,” I choke out. “I, ah, I have to?—”

Owen’s gaze remains steady, his expression calm. “It’ll only take a moment of your time, Mara. I found a beautiful holly tree in the forest just outside the gate. It’s frozen, the branches weighed down with snow, but it’s covered in little red berries. It’s?—”

“I can’t,” I whisper, my eyes filling with tears.

The guards at the door are talking in low voices, their attention on each other, and it’s only Owen and me in the hall. Most of the orcs who ventured out today must have returned already because the logbook is closed, the door bolted shut, but it still looms in front of me, a dreadful, frightening portal to the dangers living outside the Hill.

“Mara, look at me.”

Owen’s voice pierces my thoughts, and I force myself to wrench my gaze way from the door.

“You’re afraid of going outside, aren’t you?” he asks, his voice pitched low. “That’s why you refused to go with me this morning?”

I gaze up at him, hating him a little for making me admit this, but unable to lie. “Aye.”

“Oh.” He steps closer to me and reaches out, then draws me slowly into an embrace. “I’m so sorry.”

My breaths are coming faster now, each inhale bordering on a sob. “I’msorry. I can’t—I can’t come with you.”

I didn’t mean to say it this way—but it’s true. It holds for right now and for the future. I can’t leave, which means I’ll have to watch him go eventually when duty calls him back to the human lands.

He kisses me, his lips rough on mine, his beard scratching my skin—he must know, somehow, that this is exactly what I need. I cling to him, my hand at the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, and I don’t care about the guards at the door anymore, I don’t care about anything buthim. His touch is erasing the fear and sadness that swamped me at the realization that heknows, he knows I’m bound to this underground place—but he doesn’t seem to care.

When Owen pulls away, he’s breathing hard, his blue eyes blazing. I reach out and touch his lips lightly, feeling their texture, and he kisses my fingertips, then smiles, an intimate, secret expression meant just for me.

“I understand,” he murmurs. “Why you were so intent on pushing me away, I mean.”

I shake my head, too overwhelmed to answer. He doesn’t know the full story, not yet.

“Come on.” He keeps an arm around my shoulders, gripping me tight, and walks me away from the front door.

We leave the entrance hall behind and move deeper into the maze of tunnels. Every step heightens my anticipation, the tension between us building up. I don’t pay attention to where we’re going, but Owen must be following the signposts because he walks with confidence, taking turn after turn.

Finally, we end up in front of a plain wooden door, and it’s only then that I look up. “Is this your room?”

Owen nods. “I could take you to yours, but I think mine is closer to the front gate, so I brought us here.” He raises his eyebrows. “I can take you to the great hall instead if you’d like.”

The thought of seeing other people right now fills me with squirming dread. His company is all I need, and I don’t want to share him with other people. I feel as if I must guard my time with him because it’s precious and so limited.

“No, this is good.”

I meet his gaze. He’s so very close, his breath brushing my cheek, and I lean ever so slightly into him, my hip against his. It’s not a kiss, but it is an invitation, a confirmation that we’re both hurtling toward the same destination.

For a long moment, neither of us moves, then he puts his hand on my hip. His touch is oddly reassuring and at the same time, tempting me with what could be if we just gave in, if we accepted that we are inevitable.

Owen ushers me across the threshold and lights a lantern before shutting the door. “I can’t see in the dark,” he explains as he sets the lantern on a table. “And I want to see you.”

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