Page 1 of The Passionate Orc
Chapter 1
Nar
I never meant to spill the paint.
Warriors of the Red Blade Orcs don't spill things. We conquer. We dominate. We strike fear into the hearts of our enemies with our battle cries and perfectly executed axe swings.
We definitely don't trip over our own feet at art galleries while staring at pretty human women.
But here I was, standing in front of the most beautiful creature I'd ever seen, watching bright blue paint drip down her pristine white canvas. The same blue as her eyes, which were now wide with shock.
"My exhibition piece!" She gasped, those blue eyes darting between me and her ruined painting.
I wanted to disappear. Melt into the polished gallery floor. Maybe bash my head against the nearest wall until I forgot this moment entirely.
"I... sorry... I didn't..." Words failed me. Words always failed me around beautiful women, but this was worse. Much worse.
Let me back up.
My name is Nar Humperdink. Six foot seven. Two hundred and eighty pounds of pure orc muscle. Lieutenant of the third battalion of Red Blade warriors. And secret painter.
If my clan found out about my artistic side, I'd never hear the end of it. "Orcs swing axes, not brushes," my father always said. But something about the way colors blend on canvas makes my heart race even faster than battle.
So I sneak away. Every other Thursday, I tell the clan I'm scouting enemy territory. In reality, I'm visiting the Downtown Art Gallery to study techniques and get inspiration. Nobody expects to see an orc in an art gallery. The perfect cover.
Until today.
I'd been admiring a landscape piece when I saw her across the room. Small, delicate, with wild curly brown hair that seemed to have a life of its own. She wore a paint-splattered jean jacket over a flowy dress, moving with the grace of someone completely comfortable in her own skin. An artist, definitely. Her hands gestured animatedly as she spoke to an older woman beside her canvas.
My heart did a strange little flip. She was beautiful in a way that made my hands itch for a brush, to capture the vibrant energy radiating from her.
I didn't realize I'd been walking toward her until it was too late. My shoulder caught a standing tray of paint jars. My reflexes—usually lightning fast in battle, failed me spectacularly. The blue paint sailed through the air in slow motion, landing with a horrifying splash across her canvas.
And now here we were.
"Do you have any idea how long I worked on this?" Her voice trembled slightly. "The exhibition opens tomorrow night!"
I stood there, tusks probably hanging open stupidly, my brain scrambling for something, anything to say.
"I fix," I finally blurted, my words coming out gruffer than intended. When I'm nervous, I fall back into stereotypical orc speech patterns. Not good. "I mean, I can fix it. The painting. Your painting that I ruined. With paint. Which is ironic because it's already a painting, but now it has the wrong paint, and?—"
I forced myself to stop talking.
She tilted her head, really looking at me now. Those blue eyes traveled from my face down to my massive frame, taking in my attempt at "blend in with the humans" clothing, a black button-up shirt that strained across my shoulders and jeans that had never quite fit right.
"You're an artist?" Skepticism dripped from every word.
My cheeks burned. "I dabble."
"He's being modest," came a voice behind me. I turned to see the gallery owner, Mrs. Chen, approaching with a knowing smile. "Nar has been coming to my gallery for months. He has quite the eye for color theory."
I could have kissed the tiny elderly woman. Or carefully picked her up and placed her somewhere safe, which is my usual instinct for small humans who are kind to me.
The beautiful artist's expression softened slightly, though her arms remained crossed defensively across her chest.
"Let me see what you can do then," she challenged, gesturing to her paint-splattered canvas.
My stomach dropped. I'd offered to fix it without thinking. Now I had to perform in front of her, with no preparation. But backing down isn't the Red Blade way.
