Page 8 of Rough Riding Orc Cowboy

“Then hold on.”

Tightening my hold, I surged to my boots and rushed forward along the gully where I kept low and could move quickly without being seen. At the end of the gully, I raced up and out and bolted around the edge of a sorhox pasture, the beasts snorting when they heard my furious steps, before they settled back to sleep.

The night wind tore past us, whipping through her hair as she clung to me. The earth moved swiftly beneath my feet, the deep grass whispering as I raced toward the tree line beyond the pasture. One sorhox issued a low challenge but a glare from me made him back down. The rest continued to ignore me.

Beth kept her face buried in my chest, the warmth ofher breath seeping through my skin. Her fingers clutched my vest like it was the only solid thing in her world.

I truly was. She just didn’t know it yet.

The edge of the forest loomed ahead, dark and thick with shadows. I could've taken her into the safety of the trees, hidden her in the deep quiet, but I veered left instead. The ground here was uneven, the slope pitched and rock-strewn, but I kept my grip on her firm, adjusting my pace so I wouldn’t trip and send us tumbling.

Beth’s breath still came fast, but not wild with panic anymore. At least she wasn’t crying. She wasn’t fighting, either. Slowly, the desperate, ragged edge of her fear seemed to dull. Maybe because she realized her feet hadn’t led her into the unknown alone—I had.

Still, my thoughts churned, growing darker with each step. Her father. Bradley. Orc justice would've settled this quickly: an honor battle, a blade to the gut, a clean end. But humans didn’t resolve situations like this with a fight. They didn’t spill blood to right a wrong. Too bad. I ached to return to that barn and rip the life from the males who’d tried to trap her.

She peered around, her spine tightening. “Where are we going?” Her voice trembled, but the near-frantic tone from before had fled.

“Somewhere you’ll be safe.” I slowed, keeping my weight balanced as I stepped over a deep rut in the earth. “I won’t hurt you. This I swear.”

She exhaled. “I shouldn’t trust you,” she said, soquiet the wind almost swept her words away. “But for some reason, I do.”

The words burrowed deep, sinking all the way to my core.

She trusted me.Me.

I tightened my grip on her, as if I could shield her from anything that might try to take her away. She didn’t know how much I'd longed to hear those words from her.

I crested the final rise, and my ranch house came into view beyond the sloping hill. The white-painted siding reflected the moonlight, highlighting the dark green trim framing the windows and back kitchen door.

Knowing I wouldn’t be back until after dark, I’d left a light on. Would Beth find my small home cozy, or would it seem insignificant compared to the lush lifestyle she’d led? I’d overheard them speaking about her father’s wealth, how she lived in an enormous house on the ocean with servants and her every need catered to before she could ask.

Except she hadn’t had love. I didn’t love her—not yet. But since she was my fated mate, it was guaranteed.

What if I couldn’t give her everything she needed?

I needed to stop thinking of things like that. Getting her to safety was my only concern. What happened next would be up to her, not me.

My small red barn stood behind the house, its doors closed for the night. Should I take her there to hide? I doubted anyone would come knocking on my door to look for her. And if they came to ask questions, I’d tellthem I’d been home most of the night, that I hadn’t seen her.

The buildings weren’t impressive, not compared to the grand homes humans built for their wealthy. My home was simple, functional. My brothers and I had constructed our houses to be identical, believing that uniformity would make them visually appealing to tourists. We truly didn’t care much how they appeared other than that. It was a place to sleep, to grab a meal, to sit in the quiet, alone.

This was home. Lonely almost all the time, but a place where I could rest at night and call my own. Now, a sanctuary, a place where I could take Beth. Where we could figure out what came next.

Beth felt light in my arms. Soft and fragile. The wind pushed against my face as I carried her along the path leading to the side door of my house. I breathed in her scent with each inhalation. Sweet. Her fingers still clung to my vest, almost like she was afraid I’d set her down and leave her behind.

That would never happen.

As I climbed the porch steps, they creaked. I nudged the kitchen door open with my foot and stepped inside, heeling it closed again and locking the panel. A light glowed above the sink, the only one I'd left on. I crossed the room and lowered her into the closest of the two chairs at my kitchen table before scurrying around to turn on the lights.

Then I realized they skylighted her in the window and shut most of them off.

She remained in the kitchen, saying nothing. Only fidgeting with the bag on her lap. Her small frame nearly disappeared in the orc-sized furniture, but it hadn't occurred to me to buy anything that would fit humans. I never thought one would visit me. Or that I'd find my mate in one of their females.

She peered around the room. I did the same, cringing at the mess. Papers covered the table. My spare boots lay near the back door, one tipped onto its side, dirt still clinging to the worn leather. A shirt I’d stripped off yesterday still lay crumpled on the counter.

Panic jolted through me. I wanted her to look at me with trust, not disgust.

Turning, I rushed to grab all I could. With everything other than the few dirty dishes lying in the sink in my arms, I rushed down the hall and tossed them into my bedroom. I returned to the kitchen and swiped the papers off the table, gathering them into a stack, knocking over the sorhox-shaped salt and pepper shakers Aunt Inla had given me. She'd bought too many for the general store and thought we should all have a pair. I liked salt on my food. The pepper only made me sneeze, and I hadn't touched it other than that one time. They wobbled and fell, spilling white and black specks onto the table that I rubbed off the surface, into my palm.

---