Page 8 of My Orc Pen Pal

Rosemary dissolved into giggles, shifting one thigh higher in the booth so she was facing me. “Steve? How about Glenda? Or Adele. It’s my middle name.”

“Rosemary Adele,” I murmured, unable to help swaying toward her. “Dkaar.”

Beloved.

“Oh, that’s lovely. What does it mean?” Thank the gods of the ancestors she didn’t give me a chance to admit the truth before asking, “And for that matter, what doesyourname mean, Akhmim? Should I come up with a nickname for you? Mimsy? The big Akhmimus?”

I didn’t know what either of those were, but I was pleased to just sit here and talk with her. And learn. I’d be happy to share about my world.

“It’s in an orc’s nature to change his name many times in his life as he passes milestones. When we passed through the veil into your world, we would have chosen new names, but the scientists who were studying us assigned names to us, archeological sites from your Ancient Egypt.”

“This was in Denver?” she asked, stretching across the table to snag her wine from where she’d originally been sitting. “At the government facility where you were all kept?”

I was pleased she remembered, and when I could stop staring at the amount of delicious-looking skin her movement had revealed, I’d tell her.

Aaaany minute now.

“I think it sucks that they kept you hidden like that for so long.” Rosemary sipped her wine. “I was a teenager when your arrival hit the news, and I wasn’t the only one who was super-curious about all the secrecy.”

I managed to wrestle myKteerinto obedience so I could focus on what she was saying. “Our leader was Sakkara, and he was bright enough to realize if your military gotus, we might never be seen again. So he timed our emergence so the media would be there, and thus the scientists won the debate, and we went with them.” A full year of being poked and prodded, while we learned English and the necessary skills to live in this modern world. “And then they gave us their blood money and sent us on our way.”

From the way she cocked her head and studied me, I hadn’t managed to hide the bitterness from her.

“You’ve told me about the laboratory—” she began but was interrupted by the arrival of our appetizers.

The soup was delicious, and Rosemary nibbled at the wontons as I made appreciative noises and tried not to slurp. But then…

“Oh shit, Rosemary, why did no one tell me about these things?” I held a little ball of fried dough in the light, staring at it, aghast. “What did you call them? Dog biscuits? They’re delicious!”

Chuckling, she snagged a few for her plate. “I guess I’d better pick what I want before youwhoofthem all down.”

“Oh, ha-ha.” I didn’t takeallof them. “Seriously?—”

“Hushpuppies. They’re just balls of fried dough, but each place makes them differently. The Waterfront’s are almost like cornbread except…sweet?” She used one to gesture. “They’re supposedly named after the scraps the chefs would throw to the dogs. Like, if you were battering and frying fish and the dogs were bugging you, you’d toss them some fried batter to keep them quiet.”

I swallowed and eagerly reached for another. “Hush. Puppies. I get it. I’m definitely getting another order, andbringing the guys back here.” I sent her a grin. “Thanks for recommending this place. I don’t know seafood, but I’m lucky to have you.”

In so many ways.

She dropped her gaze to her plate, but not before I saw the pleased grin and the slight blush. Experimentally, I shifted closer, until my thigh brushed against hers, and I heard her suck in a breath at the same time the pulse in her temple jumped.

Interesting. I lowered my voice. “And I’mveryglad to be here,dkaar.”

Her breath caught, and there was that faint sweet scent. Was that her arousal? I knew my senses were unusually attuned to her, but could it be possible that she found me as arousing as I found her?

Hoping to put her at ease, I asked her, “You’ve lived on Eastshore Isle your whole life? I remember you said you moved back home after school, but of course I didn’t know that washere.”

In months of emailing, the information we traded had been interesting. Sharing personal stories of our childhoods, our beliefs, our opinions, our adventures…but very careful not to give a hint of where we lived or even our last names.

The MonsterSmash terms and conditions stated as much, but it was also just smart to play it safe. My cousin Tarkhan, who was used to human women throwing themselves at him, had warned me about the possibility of sex-crazed stalkers, and I had to laugh.

Imagine, a female being interested inme.

Except…it seemed as if, on some level, Rosemarywas.

As she told me about her extended family here on Eastshore and made me laugh about stories of big family get togethers, I noticed her leaning toward me. She placed her hand on my arm, seemingly without noticing, to hold herself upright as she laughed while recounting a practical joke played on her brother. And she met my eyes, holding my gaze,somethingalluring danced in those pale depths.

“…Andthat’show the Yule log tradition begun!”

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