Page 10 of Mountain Orc Daddy

“Oh right, shifter is the term we use for people that can shift between human and supernatural forms. You are always an orc, I’m always a human. But there are some that can change. Like, I have a neighbor who can shift into a wolf form.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah, he’s a really nice guy too. Also-,” Blair starts laughing, she can’t control herself. It’s pretty cute. “One of my professors in college was a dragon shifter. He once got so mad that no one did the reading that mid-class he accidently burned his desk!”

“No way.” Even I can’t help but laugh. I don’t understand many of the words she just said, but her laugh is infectious. I want to hear more of it. “Tell me another funny story. What else is waiting out there?”

“Let me think, oh-,” Blair continues while trying, and failing, to hold in a laugh. “One day, I was out for a walk in the park, and there was this vampire, just casually strolling along with an umbrella for shade. I was like, ‘what is he doing?’ It was the sunniest day ever, and he was just- out there!” She breaks down laughing.

Once again, I can’t help but laugh along. I’m surprised that she seems to be having a good time, that she’s talking so much. When her family was around, she was so quiet. She almost looked miserable. Now, she’s so alive.

She throws her head back in laughter. From my position, laying down, I get a perfect view of her, backlit by the moonlight. I didn’t notice it until now, but she is truly beautiful.

Of course, when I first saw her, I thought she was beautiful, anyone would while looking at her. But right now, it is truly striking me. Her brown hair blows in the gentle night breeze, the moon illuminates the freckles on her nose, even her bright green eyes shine through the darkness.

I can’t imagine any human being as beautiful as her. She must be a stand out among their kind. I’m certainly glad I accepted her family’s invitation.

7

BLAIR

It sure feels good sitting next to Uzul. This attention is nectar I seldom get, but I like it. Uzul’s ambiance is the epitome of an earth sign. Slow, steady lumbering Taurus or maybe a third-decan Virgo. He is far too warm and embracing to be a Capricorn.

I reach into my tunic breast pocket and pull out two quartz stones, dragon stone – red jasper – and a lucky penny. This penny’s been with me through many Samhain.

“Put out your hand,” I tell Uzul.

“As you wish,” he answers. “Are you going to read my palm now?” He chuckles lightly when he says this last part.

We are sitting close, and our thighs almost touch. Almost touching is torture. His gentle chuckles send waves from his thigh to my thigh.

I put the penny into his giant palm. Our skin touches just briefly. His skin is fire beyond hot, but not the kind of fire that burns.

Uzul’s skin is the fire I want to drown in.

“That is a penny,” I tell him. “That is a penny for your thoughts.”

Another soft chuckle from Uzul. “What about my thoughts?” he asks.

“I want to hear them, silly.”

“I know that. I am quiet with a broad spectrum. You need to hint at what interests you about me the most.”

It is so hard for me not to watch Uzul’s arms when he talks without feeling like I am staring. He doesn’t talk with his hands, but the muscles in his arms move anyway. The biceps pull, and the triceps push. There is gentleness and raw power twined together in fluid movement.

“I want to hear you share something about you. Start simple.”

“I was born beneath a great mountain,” Uzul answers. He’s clearly talking to me, but his voice is reporting from back in time. “We lived in the mountains, always. My father was very careful to keep the tribe and those he loved clear from the cities. Always in the mountains.”

“What was your relationship like with your father?” I ask. The gentle evening breeze is taunting me now. The faint scent of alpha male, bay leaf, cinnamon, mint, and pine swirl around me. These are not my scents. These are not my family’s scents either. These haunting aromas are the torture devices of the breeze. These are scents that belong to handsome, gentle, powerful Uzul.

I want to grab his arms. But I won’t. My shyness is still my jailer.

“My father kept me close. Close to his protection, close to his love, and close to the mountains.”

This is one of the many nights Grandmother Moon is both my friend and my betrayer. I keep catching Uzul grabbing glances at me. I have been doing the same. He’s a beautiful specimen, especially in the silvery light. I find it so hard not to wonder how many of my glances he’s caught.

“What does close to your father’s love mean?” I ask. “I mean, you are a bit of an anomaly. Power, strength, and a gentle quietness.”

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