Page 5 of The Passionate Orc
The confession knocked me off balance. "So you weren't just a clumsy orc in a china shop?"
"Oh, I was definitely clumsy." Nar grimaced. "But not without purpose."
"So crashing my exhibition was what, flirting?" I raised an eyebrow.
"Not my finest moment." He ran a hand through his hair, looking sheepish. "I'm better with a battleaxe than in social situations."
I bit my lip, fighting a smile. "You're not exactly scoring smoothness points with that comparison either."
"See? Terrible at this." He gestured between us. "But still trying."
There was something so disarming about his honesty. No games, no pretense. Just an enormous orc warrior openly admitting he'd made a fool of himself trying to get close to me.
"Well, let's see if you're better with a paintbrush than you are at gallery etiquette." I moved to the easels. "Show me what you can do when you're not destroying other people's art."
Nar's face lit up, and my stomach did a little flip. Dangerous, that smile.
"What should I paint?" he asked, taking a position at the easel.
I considered for a moment. "Paint what you see."
His eyes locked with mine. "You?"
Heat rushed to my cheeks. "I meant we could start with still life or?—"
"I'd rather paint you." The intensity in his voice made my mouth go dry.
"Fine." I sat on a stool across from him, trying for nonchalance despite my racing pulse. "But I warn you, I'm a harsh critic."
"I can take it." Nar selected the brush he'd brought for me and twirled it between his fingers with surprising dexterity for such large hands.
For the next hour, we worked in companionable silence. I sketched him, those strong features too interesting not to capture, while he painted me. Occasionally our eyes would meet across the easels, and something electric passed between us before one of us looked away.
"Can I see?" I finally asked, setting down my charcoal.
Nar hesitated, then turned his canvas toward me.
I gasped. He hadn't painted a portrait in the traditional sense. Instead, he'd created an impressionistic swirl of blues and golds that somehow captured exactly how I felt inside—vibrant, searching, a little chaotic. In the center, he'd painted my eyes with such detail and emotion that they seemed to stare back at me.
"This is..." I struggled for words.
"Terrible?" He winced.
"Beautiful." I moved closer, examining his brushwork. "You've never had any training?"
He shook his head. "My clan doesn't... art isn't considered a warrior's pursuit."
"Your clan is missing out." I touched the canvas gently. "You have genuine talent, Nar."
His expression shifted, pride warring with vulnerability. "You think so?"
"I know so. And I think..." I took a deep breath. "I think I could help you develop it. If you want."
"You'd teach me?" His eyes widened. "For real?"
"Why not? I've taught beginners before. Though usually they're human and under twelve."
Nar laughed, a deep rumble that I felt more than heard. "I promise to follow instructions better than a human child."
