Page 1 of One Night with Her Mountain Orc

Chapter 1

August

“Okay, August, watchyour footing. You got this. Ow! Shit. Okay, don’t step there. Deep breath, girl. What a stupid thing to do.” I’ve given up caring about looking foolish talking to myself, as the only things around are some mice I scared out of the undergrowth and a random mountain goat that occasionally bleats at me. I swear he’s laughing at me as I limp down the mountain.

Checking the sun, I curse again. I’m not going to make it down before the sun dips behind the icy peak of Wolf’s Ridge Mountain. Then I curse myself for succumbing to such a reckless decision. And I curse May, my cousin, for her terrible taste in men. As my feet slide on loose rocks and I try not to fall, I curse Chad, her boyfriend.

He’s a jealous asshat. Since I moved in with May two weeks ago, she’s been spending more time with me than with him. It’s been a long time since we spent our childhood summers together, and we’ve had a lot of catching up to do. Unsurprisingly, he has the personality of a horny billy goat. Tiny penis and no brains.

Leaning against a giant boulder to rest and pull out my cell phone to see if I have signal. Low battery, probably because of the cold, and no signal. I’m going to have to make it all the way down before I can call for help. Tears sting. Blinking fast, to prevent them from fully leaking out of my eyes, I realize my eyelashes are crusty with frost. Pretty sure the tears will just freeze to my face at this point. I imagine myself at the bottom of the mountain, busted ankle, and eyes half-frozen shut, frozen snot on my nose. The picture of independence and strength.

Ugh, I’m so shit-fucked right now. All I had to do was ignore Chad’s taunting. Why did his opinion matter? It didn’t. It doesn’t. Why did I make such a reckless move?

Now I’m going to die up here. Hypothermia and exposure—check. Dehydration—probably. Starvation—working on it. Feels like anything could happen right now.

Maybe I should reconsider making dares with asshats and stage an intervention with May. But first I have to get off this god-forsaken mountain. One painful step at a time.

Ahead of me, or rather down the hill from me, I hear voices. I hate the way my chest fills with relief at the sound of other people. And an overwhelming sense of embarrassment. My estimate says I’m totally on track to be down the mountain only two hours after sunset. I don’t need them.

I’ve got this.

“Hey! We’re Search and Rescue. Are you in need of assistance?” Damnit. Their flashlights and reflective clothing are the first things I see. Search and Rescue. But not just SAR. Huge muscular orcs. Groaning, I close my eyes, hoping they’ll magically transform into less handsome monsters. People I can handle, people are fallible. But orcs are the epitome of strength and stamina. And the two of them are totally watching me limp down the trail toward them as if I’m the latest episode of reality TV.

“No! I’m good. Thanks for asking.” My voice surprises me, I’m breathing heavier than I should be. It isn’t warm out by any means, but I’m sweating in my snow pants and coat. A lot of exertion, pain, and stress. My good foot lands on a patch of refrozen snow—ice—and I go down hard, legs painfully spread wide, and I slide twenty feet looking like a sliding snow angel. Well, probably look like a broken yeti—not nearly graceful enough to be an angel. The cold seeps through the bottom of my snowpants—a rip. My inner thigh and hamstring burn where they were stretched beyond their normal range.

I will not cry. I will not be a spectacle.As I attempt to gather my breath and catalog my new physical state—did I break anything else? Is my other ankle injured? —there’s a blur of green. The orc is at my side, kneeling, staring intently at me. There’s a slight smile on his face, like he’s enjoying this. His nose looks like it’s been broken a few times, and he has a scar over one eye that still looks fresh. But while I probably stink from a day of sweating, he smells refreshing and delicious—like fresh-brewed coffee and caramel. Not a combination of scents I typically associate with orcs, but I like it. A lot. Too bad I’m in pain, and my ass is freezing.

“I suppose you get a kick out of seeing injured people. It means you have a job, right?” I know I sound like an ass, but I’m not interested in making friends right now. I need to get off the mountain before I lose any more heat, and I want to do it under my own power. Chad, May, and these orcs be damned.

“I love my job,” the orc says, his black eyes laser into mine. I purse my lips at him. The other orc stands behind, watching us closely. He clears his throat.

My orc—not mine, just...the one next to me—straightens up. “My name is Bjorn. I’m an emergency responder with Moonfang Haven Search and Rescue. We’re here because of a call from a concerned family member. Are you August Mason?” I nod, not trusting my voice to be steady. “We’d like to help you down the mountain and to the hospital before nightfall.”

I heave out a sigh and start to lift myself out off the ice. Bjorn puts a giant hand on my shoulder to stop me. Heat radiates from him and into my body, warming me as if I’m curled up next to a raging campfire. Looking at his hand—my, his fingers are thick—then at him, I say, “Please remove your hand. I’m going to get up and start walking.”

“Please sit and let me assess your injuries. Did you hit your head? Any blood?” His eyes roam over my padded body. Though I’m wearing more clothes than I’ve ever worn before, I am exposed under his gaze. My body shivers against my will. Damned body betraying me. I shake my head a little too vehemently, making me dizzy. He notices, and the pressure of his hand increases just enough to steady me.

“Just my ankle. I think it’s sprained. No other injuries, though I just overextended this leg.” I pause as I slowly shift. “But it’s fine. I’m sorry you came all this way.” I huff each sentence as I get to my knees, then my feet. His hand shifts to my upper back, like he’s just there to steady me if I fall.

Little does he know; I refuse to fall anymore. I don’t need anyone’s help. Especially a burly, delicious smelling orc’s help.

“No apologies necessary. It’s good training. And it’s boring when no one asks for help. Steady,” he says the last word in a whisper as I stumble on my feet.

“So, you’re saying you are using my experiences to further your education and be your entertainment for the day? Hmm.”

“Basically, yes. I appreciate you being here right now.” He grins, and his tusks shine despite the thick clouds overhead. “Now, I have bandages to secure your ankle, so it doesn’t get injured further. I can make you a cane or crutch—” Bjorn’s voice trails off as I make anughsound and march past him toward his compatriot. Or, well, I limp unsteadily, hands stretched out wide in case I pitch forward onto the rocky ground. Most of the ice seems to be gone from this part of the trail. I remember this place from the way up—the line in the sand between rocks and snow.

I make it to the other orc, just as handsome, though he’s older with a streak of gray in his trimmed beard, and he smells like motor oil. He gives me a cool, analyzing gaze. I can hear thrashing behind me from Bjorn, but I don’t bother to turn around to see if he is trapped in the bushes or throwing a temper tantrum. I keep going.

Their footsteps don’t follow at first, and I’m grateful. I know they’ll follow, eventually; they aren’t having a slumber party up here in the frozen tundra tonight. No one is, except that crazy goat.

“Alright, see if this will help you.” Bjorn’s rumbling voice startles me out of my revelry ofnever again. No more stupid decisions. When will I learn? Never again.When I pause to steady myself and turn, he appears before me so I don’t have to twist. Limping in the dying light of day is causing more problems with the leg I overextended, but I’m not sure how to fix it right now. Bjorn has a long, smooth branch in his hand. Not quite a crutch, not quite a cane.

I stare at it, trying to figure out how it will help me, when he sighs and says, “It’s a hiking stick. All sorts of healthy hikers use them. It will help with your footing and get you off the mountain sooner. No one is going to judge you for having a hiking stick. But they might for not having one.”

Unsure what has come over me, but that last statement makes laughter bubble up and out of me. I slap a hand over my mouth to prevent anymore frivolity oozing out of me. “Thanks,” I mumble from behind my mouth. Mostly, though, I take the stick to get him out of my way. He’s blocking the entire trail with his wide, muscular body. One side of him is the cliff’s edge, the other side is shrubbery that I’m too tired and cold to fight my way through.

I guess the only way down is by placating the orc. My gloved hand touches his as I take the hiking stick, and I swear sparks between us almost light the not-a-cane on fire.

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