Page 1 of Fated to the Orc

Evelyn

PROLOGUE

Orcs are real.

That’s not a sentence I ever thought I’d say.

I’m a doctor. I have a PhD in genetics. I pride myself on being rational. Logical. Sensible.

But the enormous, green-skinned brute snarling at me from the metal slab? The eight-foot-tall orc with muscles like carved stone?

Yeah. He’sreal.

He’s strapped down with thick, reinforced leather bands across his wrists, ankles, and bare torso.

They’re barely holding.

I pull on a pair of latex gloves, the snap echoing a little too loudly in the sterile room.

“This is a standard procedure,” I say aloud, more for myself than for him. “Today, I’ll be collecting a genetic sample.”

The orc doesn’t answer. He doesn’t move. He juststares.

His eyes are a fiery gold, and they stare straight into my soul.

My pulse skips. I try to ignore it.

I’ve collected hundreds of samples in labs just like this one—from frogs, mice, and all manner of test subjects. Sure, he’s an orc, and yes, he could snap me in half if he wanted to, but this is routine. Clinical. Boring.

I swallow hard.

I’ve never had to useboth handsto gather a genetic sample before…

“This is just a job,” I remind myself under my breath. “I’m just gathering data. For science.”

I step closer to the slab and slowly unbutton the orc’s leather pants.

I suck in a breath. My heart pounds loud enough to drown out every other sound.

How the hell did I end up here?

Evelyn

ONE MONTH EARLIER…

When you turn thirty-seven,life has a way of slapping you directly in the face.

For starters, you can’t pretend to be in your “mid-thirties” anymore. That ship has sailed — and probably sunk by now.

The last time I called myself that, my baby sister Madelyn staged an intervention.

“Sis. You’re almost forty. Accept it.”

Harsh. But also, true.

I suppose it’s about time I abandon a few other illusions as well. Like the idea that Mr. Perfect is just around the corner, waiting to sweep me off my feet. That hasn’t happened yet, and I’m starting to accept it never will.

And that’s fine. Really. I have plenty to keep me occupied — an ever-growing collection of houseplants, an addiction to Candy Crush, and a to-read pile the size of Mount Everest. I don’t even have time for love, honestly.

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