Page 28 of Loved By the Orc
Once it’s worked up, I hold it up with one hand and gently lay it over the poultice. “There,” I say, relieved. Gently, I smooth his hair from his forehead. “You’ll heal so much faster now.”
There’s something indefinable in his gaze. Then he reaches for my hand and kisses my fingertips. “Thank you.”
Such simple words, yet so heartfelt. I don’t think this beautiful male has ever had care from another in his entire life.
I take a step back to give him room to rise. “This is my room when I stay. When we were kids, we each had a secret drawer built into the wall by Uncle Paul. He said little women needed a place to hide their secrets. Shally, Hisa, and I kept our diaries in the drawers, spilling all our secrets about boys.” I head over to where my drawer is kept, and tap the wall where a spring is placed to pop the drawer from the plaster. I pull out my diary. ‘Tis beautiful, really. Leatherbound, with a twine around it that locks it in place. I hand it to him.
“You want me to read this?” he asks.
I snort. “Not much to read. I didn’t have boy-secrets. Instead, mine is made up of daily life.”
He opens it to find an entry from when I was eight. How a female orc came to market and stared at me. How the dark look in her eyes had frightened me. How Aunt Rosemary didn’t like that and ushered me inside for the rest of the day.
“Was she Blackheart?” he asks.
“Aye. A few hours later, my father came to town to have dinner with us. As an adult, I realize he must’ve gotten a message to come. I was put to bed early, but had snuck out into the woods after he tucked me in. Climbed down that very window.” I point to the bedroom curtains that flutter in the breeze. “You see, by eight, my father had already taughtme how to track. I followed him to find he confronted the female in the woods.”
My voice drifts off at the memory of the heated exchange, how the gorgeous female who’d looked at me with such hatred in her eyes had softened for my handsome father. How she’d become more beautiful instantly… then offered herself to him.
And how he’d turned her down.
“Who was she?” Var asks softly, tracing the picture I’d drawn. The facial tattoo, the delicate arched eyebrows, the ripe plumpness of her lips that looks so familiar now when I look in the mirror. ‘Tis a child’s drawing, but the image always stands bright in my mind’s eye.
“My mother.”
His sharp inhalation makes me smile briefly.
“I never met her, but I memorized her features so I would know to hide the next time she came.”
“Hide? Why?”
“An innate sense, a feeling of wrongness. When I look at the female, I know she means me harm. She wouldn’t hesitate to drown me.”
Varguk watches me carefully, so I focus on him. “Bakog got into trouble once. He’d had a vision of the past, while my father was still mated to her. He’d come home early one day to find me held under in a basin of water. He’d struck my mother, so hard it knocked her out. Pushed the water from my lungs and gave me his own breath until I recovered. Bakog’s mum walked in and halted the story, told him it was up to his Uncle Oshin to share personal tales with his daughter. And she made Bakog tell my father how much he’d shared with me up until that point.”
“Was your father upset?”
“More… resigned, I think. He patted Bakog’s shoulder and thanked him. I’m not sure if he ever meant to share the tale with me, but it began a new tradition for us. From that point onward, we shared our truths, even if it hurt at the time. I think that’s what helped me get over that I didn’t have a mother raising me. How easily I accepted the guidance from the West Mountain females instead.”
“Then you’ll share with your father our relationship?”
“Aye. I will. I just didn’t want to start it until he left so I wouldn’t have anything to tell him until he returned. I knew he might worry and this trip, well, ‘tis a vacation for him. He should have a good time.”
I take the old diary from him and place it back into the drawer, shutting it gently until the drawer seamlessly merges with the wall once more and becomes invisible. He moves over to the window and looks down.
I come over to stand with him. “That is the trellis I used to climb down. When we were home alone, we always made sure the wood was sturdy and attached to the wall for a quick escape.” I smile, remembering the plans and instructions from Shally and Hisa. The secrets we’d kept together.
His finger runs down my spine, all the way to the end of my tailbone, making sensations tingle along my spine.
“I’ll make sure it’s sturdy enough to support a full-grown male,” he says. “But you won’t be coming down it, Negan. I’ll be coming up to visit at midnight.”
“Y-you will?”
“Aye. Will ping a rock against the window to let you know to undress.”
Chapter Ten
Varguk:
