Page 10 of The Passionate Orc
"Didn't take you for the romantic type, Humperdink," Thokk chuckled, punching my arm hard enough to make me wince.
"Get back to your wooing then," Grubnuk added with a wink that made me want to crawl under a rock. "Don't forget tomorrow's blood ritual. Can't be late again."
They lumbered away, laughing and making crude gestures.
I exhaled. "Quick thinking."
"I thought they'd never leave," Emryn said, squeezing my hand. "Are you okay?"
I nodded, but anxiety gnawed at my insides. "Two more close calls like that and I'll die of heart failure before the competition."
She laughed softly. "Just one more week, Nar. We can do this."
I looked down at her upturned face, moonlight catching in her blue eyes, and felt a surge of emotion so powerful it nearly knocked me back.
"We can do this," I repeated, believing it because she did.
But as we walked back to safely store our artwork, one thought kept circling in my mind: What would happen when the competition actually arrived? How would I explain my absence to the clan on that day? And what if, against all odds, we actually won?
The secret couldn't stay hidden forever. And somehow, that thought was both terrifying and exhilarating.
Chapter 4
Emryn
I stood in my studio space, staring at the massive blank canvas we had propped against the wall. The afternoon sun streamed through the skylights, casting golden light across the polished concrete floor. Nar towered next to me, his muscular green arms crossed over his chest, tusks gleaming as he frowned at our empty canvas.
"So," I said, tapping my paint brush against my palm. "Any ideas for our masterpiece?"
Nar grunted. "I think we should start with bold strokes. Red. Maybe black. Something powerful."
I bit my lip. Of course, he'd want to go dark and intense. "I was thinking more... flowing. Soft colors that blend together. Blues and purples, maybe some yellow for contrast."
His brown eyes met mine, one eyebrow raised. "Soft? This is supposed to make a statement, Emryn."
"Art can make a statement without screaming, you know." I dipped my brush in a pale lavender and made a sweeping arc across the canvas.
Nar's jaw tightened. "What are you doing? We didn't agree on that!"
"I'm starting. We've been staring at this thing for twenty minutes."
"Fine." He grabbed a thick brush, dunked it in crimson, and slashed a bold line right through my lavender curve.
I gasped. "Seriously?"
"What? It needs strength." His tusks jutted forward as he smirked at me.
My blood boiled. I'd been so attracted to this orc when we first met, but right now, I wanted to strangle him. "You know what else it needs?" I flicked my brush, sending purple droplets across his white t-shirt.
Nar froze, looking down at the splatter pattern now decorating his chest. His eyes widened, then narrowed. "You didn't."
"I did." I couldn't help the grin spreading across my face.
"This shirt is new." A dangerous smile crept across his face as he dipped his fingers into the red paint.
"Don't you dare—" I backed away, but not fast enough.
He flicked his fingers, and red paint splashed across my cheek and hair.
