Page 9 of Resisting the Wicked Orc

“Sure. If your idea of control involves knife wounds.” I glanced towards the window she’d been peeping into. “What do you want so badly that you’d risk your neck twice in one night?”

She hesitated, amber eyes calculating. I could practically see her weighing how much to reveal, what story to spin. I’d seen that look before—in negotiators, traders. Warriors sizing up opponents.

“He has a relic,” she finally said, “It was stolen from my people long, long ago. Anyone who returns it gets...” She hesitated, then finished, “Anything they ask for.”

She was still holding back. The careful way she measured her words, the tension in her shoulders. She was giving me just enough to keep me from walking away. But behind those ember-flecked eyes lurked deeper secrets.

“And what are you asking for, Red?”

Her expression shuttered. “You’re nosy for someone who nearly got his ass handed to him earlier.”

“Just trying to figure out if I’m helping a thief or a hero.” I cocked my head. “Though I’m guessing the truth is somewhere in between.”

Her jaw worked, but she didn’t deny it.

I weighed my options. I could walk away, leave her to whatever trouble she was courting. Head back to Torain and Carissa’s place, where they’d politely keep their hands to themselves while I was around, but their scents would give away exactly what they wanted to be doing. The long looks and subtle touches would feel like splinters under my nails.

Or I could crash at Galan and Hannah’s cabin, where Galan wouldn’t bother hiding his annoyance at my presence cockblocking him from fucking his mate senseless. Hannah would be civil, but the tension would be unbearable.

Or I could hike back to Grimstone in the dark with only my thoughts for company. Thoughts of mates and bonds and the cruel joke of finding mine in a woman who clearly wanted nothing to do with me.

But then I’d never know what made this fiery woman tick. What drove her to skulk through shadows and risk capture for a trinket. Why the scent of her made my blood sing even as her words cut like knives.

Fuck it. If fate was handing me someone who looked like her and dropped me into a meeting with a side of heist, I was willing to listen.

“I’ll help you.”

She blinked. “What?”

“I said I’ll help you.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “But I have one condition.”

She rolled her eyes. “Let me guess. Another kiss?”

I grinned, enjoying the flush that crept up her neck. “Been thinking about it, have you?”

The snarl that tore from her throat was pure predator. Before I could react, she grabbed the front of my shirt and yanked me down to her level. Her mouth crashed against mine, all teeth and flame and savage heat.

I gripped her hips, dragging her body against mine. Fire roared beneath my skin, burning away self-control. She tasted like spice and danger, a combination I craved more deeply than any alcohol or drug. The heat of her tongue stroked against mine, setting off fireworks in my veins.

Everything about this woman made me ravenous, starving for a single drop more of her taste, her heat. Her tail brushed down my spine in a teasing caress, sending a jolt of desire straight to my already half-hard cock. I groaned against her lips, needing to get closer, needing to feel every inch of her skin on mine.

She tore free, chest rising and falling rapidly as she gasped for air. Her cheeks were flushed, pupils blown, lips swollen from my kiss. Those sharp fangs flashed in a feral grin.

“There,” she spat. “Condition met. Now help me or get lost.”

A low chuckle bubbled up my throat. “Condition met. Dinner should be easy after that display.”

She blinked. “What?”

“The kiss was your idea.” I brushed my thumb along her lower lip, feeling the heat of her breath against my skin. “Not that I’m complaining.”

Her mouth opened and closed, speechless for the first time since I’d met her. The look of outrage on her face was almost worth the ache of pulling away from her.

“Dinner,” I said. “That’s my condition. You, me, a table, and some honest conversation.”

“You— I—” She glared up at me, but there was a hint of something else in her eyes. Interest, maybe. Or at leastless murderous intent than before. “Are you always this aggravating?”

I shrugged. “Depends. Are you agreeing, or should I start shouting for the authorities?”

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