Page 7 of Mistletoe

Then, of course, there was this year. The military came through and took anything worth taking: food, supplies, and her brother. Emma thought starving to death would be her primary concern, but now facing down a green monster, she reassessed her situation.

The monster stood, stretching to his full height. Emma’s gaze started at his bare feet and swept up. He was broad, nude, and green. And male. Definitely male, even if the equipment seemed nonstandard, but that could have been a trick of the shadows.

Emma jerked her head up, determined not to stare at the man in his undressed state, but he was hard.

It.It was hard not to stare.

Scars ran across his chest and his arms, mended with crude stitching. Dark hair hung in a tangled mess over his shoulders. His face was harsh angles pulled into an unhappy scowl. Two tusks jutted out from his lower lips.

He was unlike anything she had ever seen outside of a well-worn book of fairy tales, yet her mind supplied a name: orc.

She should be terrified. He was huge, and his appearance gruesome, but she only felt…well, she was in shock and wasn’t sure exactlywhatshe felt. Sympathy, most likely. The temperature was freezing and he didn’t have a stitch on.

“You must be cold,” she said, finally regaining her voice. She was cold just looking at him.

Actually, that wasn’t entirely honest. She felt strangely flush with warmth observing him. He was… certainly an eyeful.

“My brother is a larger gentleman. I’m sure he has something you can wear, but it’s in the house.” She pointed over her shoulder in case the creature didn’t understand her words.

No. Stop that. His eyes were bright with intelligence. He was human or had been at some point. All monsters started as humans. Everyone knew that. The beast’s bite spread that particular affliction. She had no idea how or if orcism was contagious, but speaking to the man with respect surely wouldn’t put her at risk.

He grabbed the shotgun, tearing it out of her hands and tossing it aside. He opened his mouth to speak, making only a reedy, rasping groan.

Now that the shock of his appearance had diminished, Emma noted the exhaustion in his expression. There was a significant amount of snow on the ground. Chances were good he was on the run from something, possibly even the military. Rumors flew about town that the military kept monsters as weapons of war. Not quite tame, they were a twisted kind of pet to be unleashed on their opponent. The old timers swore up and down that they had seen the military transport beasts in cages. Emma always figured the stories to be just that, but now she wasn’t so sure.

“I don’t know where you came from, but you had a heck of a journey finding your way to my barn,” she said.

He grumbled as if agreeing.

“Here.” She grabbed a thick, woolen horse blanket hanging nearby. “It’s not perfect, but it’ll warm you up until I get back.”

She unfolded the blanket and stepped forward. The orc flinched back.

“Be calm,” she said, using the same gentle tone she employed with the more skittish sheep. “That was on me. I should have given you some warning. Now, I want to give you this blanket.”

She eased forward, moving slowly. The orc remained tense, poised as if he would run away at any moment. She continued her soft, gentle prattle, just as if she were speaking to a frightened animal. “Are you hungry? We don’t have a lot, but I can fix you up a plate. Ma’s been cooking Christmas dinner all day. Coq au vin, which is just fancy talk for a stringy old rooster in red wine. It’s better than it sounds. Cook anything in red wine long enough, and it’ll be tender and delicious. There.”

She wrapped the blanket around his waist.

“Isn’t that better?”

The orc moved as if he would reach for her. Emma backed up a step. He advanced. She continued her reverse progression until her back hit a wall. The orc planted a hand over her head and glared down at her.

He was very large and tall. He made her feel tiny, which was a remarkable feat because Emma was a generously sized woman. She was taller than most and had a sturdy frame built for life on the frontier. Yet compared to this orc, she was as dainty as a spring blossom.

The orc leaned in. His nostrils flared as if taking in her scent.

“I, umm, I’m Emma—” Her ability to summon the endless stream of prattle vanished. While the orc’s appearance was alarming, he was also undeniably masculine. The chest, the strength in his arms, and the power in his broad shoulders had all her attention and not for the reasons that were in accord with her survival.

He glanced up to yet another mistletoe sprig hanging overhead.

“My mother goes a little overboard for the decorating,” Emma said, feeling the need to explain the midwinter decorations in the barn of all places.

He leaned in. For a moment, Emma wondered if he would kiss her and what the tusks would feel like.

He roared in her face, pushing away, and vanished out of the barn into the dark.

Stunned, she placed a hand over her chest and waited for her heart to settle down. When she had herself under control again, she calmly went to the house.

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