Page 12 of His Orc Warrior

It was sweet and chaste, but somehow the touch of our skin together sealed him in my heart.

“Text me when you get home, okay?”

He scrunched his eyebrows together. “What for?”

“So I know you’re safe, omega. I won’t be able to sleep tonight if I don’t know.”

“Okay, Thrain. I can’t wait to see you again.”

Chapter Nine

Lucas

It was selfish of me to want to have him over for dinner—to want to keep him for myself instead of just meeting at a diner or going to a movie. But I couldn’t help it. Something inside me longed to make him a meal.

I wasn’t even that into cooking, but for him, I wanted to. Come to think of it, I couldn’t remember the last time I made a meal that wasn’t a quick throw together. But for Thrain, I needed to. It was an odd yearning and one I was more than willing to give in to.

My apartment didn’t have anything that I felt was “good enough” for a dinner date, and I ran to the grocery store and straight to the butcher. I wasn’t sure what I was even going to cook, but I knew that once I saw it, inspiration would hit.

I was wrong.

Instead, I just stood there and stared at the case, asking for a couple more minutes every time someone offered to help me.

“What do you think?” The guy behind the counter finally went with a different approach. “Want to try this rump roast that’s on sale?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you can help me figure out what to cook?”

“Sure. Tell me what the occasion is, how many people, and if you have a budgetary restriction, and I’ll hook you up.” His offer was exactly what I needed.

“I’m having someone over for dinner.”

He gave me the look that said he needed more to go on, and did I ever give him more.

“It’s a first date, and I really like him. But I don’t want fancy. I want more like comfort food. Stick-to-your-bones kindof thing. But I want easy, too. I don’t want to spend my time in the kitchen. I want to spend it with them. And it needs to be good, but not too weird, in case they don’t like unusual flavors they didn’t grow up with.” I was babbling a mile a minute.

“Oh, you got it bad.” The butcher chuckled. At least he wasn’t irked at me.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re overthinking this like there’s no tomorrow. How about this?” He gestured toward the back. “I was just cutting up some really nice stew meat. Make a nice stew. You can cook it then keep it in a Crock-Pot to stay warm and to get nice and tender. Meat, potatoes, carrots, celery—all the things people love.”

I didn’t love carrots, but I wasn’t going to argue with someone being so kind to me.

“Grab a loaf of bread from the bakery, maybe a cake, and you’re good to go.”

“He’s bringing bread.”

“Sounds like stew is the right choice.”

The butcher hooked me up with the beef, and I grabbed the rest of the ingredients, including a pie—the cakes not quite catching my eye. Then home I went to put it all together into one delicious dish.

He was right. It was freeing, having everything done and ready so that I could spend the last bit of time before Thrain arrived showering and making sure Bolg was fed and walked.

Bolg—he was a worry.

Thrain was huge. There was no other way to describe him. And I worried that Bolg was going to freak out the way he did with Mr. Stevens.

Worst-case scenario, I could set him up in his crate in my room. He went in there when there were thunderstorms or lots of sirens. It was his safe place. The thing was, I’d hate for him toneed a safe place from Thrain. Sure, it was our first date, but I was already counting on it being the first of many, and I wanted the two of them to get along.

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