Page 24 of The Passionate Orc
That set me off again, and soon we were both doubled over with laughter on the sidewalk, ignoring the curious stares of passersby.
"The champagne glass just exploded in your hand!" I gasped between giggles.
Nar flexed his fingers. "Human craftsmanship is clearly inferior to orc strength."
When our laughter finally subsided, Nar looked down at me with such warmth that my breath caught.
"Let's go to my place," he suggested. "No fragile art, no tiny food, no judging eyes. Just us."
I nodded, suddenly aware of how much I wanted to be alone with him. "Just us sounds perfect."
Nar's apartmentwas exactly what you'd expect from an orc warrior who was also an artist, a fascinating blend of traditional clan artifacts and creative chaos. Weapons hung on the walls alongside his paintings. A massive couch that could accommodate his frame dominated the living room, and his painting area took up an entire corner, splattered with colors and surrounded by canvases in various stages of completion.
It felt more like home than my apartment sometimes.
"Much better," Nar declared, loosening his bow tie and kicking off his formal shoes. "Fancy human parties are worse than battle. At least in battle, I'm supposed to break things."
I slipped off my heels with a sigh of relief. "You did wonderfully. And more importantly, people loved your art."
"Our art," he corrected, pulling me into his arms. "We're a team, remember?"
The feeling of his muscular arms around me, the familiar scent of his skin mixed with paint made something shift inside me. Here, away from the pretension and the judgmental eyes, I could see us clearly for what we were—two people who had found each other against all odds, who supported each other's dreams, who fit together despite every difference.
"What are you thinking about?" Nar asked, his thumb gently tracing my cheek. "You have that look."
"What look?"
"The one where you're feeling something big but haven't put it into words yet."
I looked up at him—this imposing, gentle, passionate orc who painted with the same intensity he brought to everything in his life. Who cared what anyone at that gallery thought? They only saw the surface. I knew the heart beneath.
"I'm thinking," I said slowly, "that I love you."
The words hung in the air between us, simple but monumental. It wasn't a planned moment, but it felt right, maybe I'd known it for weeks, but hadn't been ready to admit it.
Nar's eyes widened, and for a moment he was completely still. Then his face broke into the most radiant smile I'd ever seen.
"Say it again," he whispered.
"I love you, Nar Humperdink."
He lifted me off my feet in a crushing embrace, spinning me around in his living room while I laughed and held on tight.
"I've loved you since you first criticized my brush technique," he confessed when he finally set me down. "I just didn't think you'd ever feel the same for a clumsy orc like me."
"Not clumsy," I corrected. "Just enthusiastically sized for a human world."
He kissed me then, and I melted into him, realizing that for all the success and validation we'd received tonight, this was the real triumph—finding someone who saw past the surface to who we really were, someone worth breaking all the champagne glasses in the world for.
Chapter 9
Nar
I spent the entire morning running around like a madman, getting everything ready. The perfect proposal needed the perfect setting, and I wasn't about to mess this up. My heart pounded against my chest as I hauled the last box of fairy lights into the park. The sun was already sinking, painting the sky in colors that reminded me of Emryn's paintings, all fiery oranges and soft pinks.
"Need some help with that, sir?" A park attendant approached, eyeing my tusks with a mixture of curiosity and caution.
I shook my head. "Got it handled." No way was I letting anyone else set up my proposal spot. This had to be all me.
