Page 69 of My Orc Billionaire
Riven
By Thanksgiving,Eastshore had a whole new crop of orcs.
Some of them had moved here already…some were just visiting…and some were ready to move but had to be convinced. Oncethatbecame common knowledge, the whole community banded together to put on the best damnKap’paral—the orcish harvest festival—Eastshore had ever seen.
Which wasn’t that difficult, considering this would be the second.
But itwasmuch larger than last year’s, which had apparently been put together by Giza out in the woods. This year, with our mayor himself being an orc, he proposed a bigger event…one we could use to woo the new orcs into staying.
Even those members of the community who weren’t in some way connected to the orcs who already lived here chipped in.Allof Eastshore could agree that our town was a million times better off with our new friends.
And those of us who were Mated to orcs? Well, we couldn’t be happier.
I mean, wecouldbe happier, but not when it came to this. I mean…fuck, whatdidI mean?
I was Mated to Abydos. I’d moved my stuff into his bedroom, I’d started making subtle changes around his—ourhouse so it suited me. He gave me whatever I asked for, and I’d never been as comfortable as I was now. Not just monetarily, but do you have any idea what kind of sleep you can get on a really high-end mattress? My stress—those looming medical bills—was gone, I joined Abydos in his regular massages, and I was regularly getting eight hours of sleep for the first time since…uh…middle school?
Yeah, I was comfortable.
So why did it feel like something was missing?
I didn’t really dwell on it because I knew how lucky I was.Anygirl would be lucky to be in my fairy-tale life, dammit…but I got Abydos. I didn’t love him for his money, I loved him forhim.
Besides, there wasn’t a lot of time to dwell on anything while preparing for theKap’paral. Abydos had volunteered his new piece of property for the celebration, and it seemed perfect. There were already a few lots being cleared—just enough trees were cut down to satisfy the zoning commission, and the old-growth live oaks were all spared—so there would be enough parking.
Abydos had been out here since this morning, setting up tables and dragging in wood for the traditional bonfire. When I showed up with his SUV’s trunk full of the food Mom and I had been cooking for days, he rushed over to help carry stuff.
And now we stood in the shadows, our stomachs comfortably full, watching distant lightning high upin the clouds as Giza gave the traditional welcome. Abydos’s arms were around me, holding my weight, his chin resting on my head. I could feel his breath stirring my hair as I stroked his forearm.
He wasn’t wearing a suit tonight, and I loved that he’d chosen informality here, among his friends. He might not love crowds, but he no longer walled himself off, and I liked to think I had a bit to do with that.
Giza’s voice echoed through the clearing. “For the clean waters and the bright skies, we give thanks.”
The gathered orcs, and quite a few of the humans, responded: “We give thanks.”
“For the rains and the life-giving floods, we give thanks,” Giza intoned.
This time, Abydos murmured along with his friends, “We give thanks.”
The light from the roaring bonfire seemed to make Giza’s tattoos dance as he raised his arms. “For the birdsong and the sweet scent of wildflowers, we give thanks.”
This time, I joined in. “We give thanks!”
“For the deer and the mushroom and the barley and the squash, joined today in this meal, we give thanks.”
Everyone was calling now, voices high and low, orc and human. “We give thanks!”
Giza held us in the palms of his hands as he slowly looked around the gathering and lowered his voice so we strained to hear it. “For fellowship and friendship and loved ones here and gone; for the strength of our clan and the sweetness of our hearts…we give thanks.”
It was as if all of us took a deep breath at once, because there was a pause, then weallshouted the refrain: “We give thanks!”
And my hands tightened around Abydos’s arm. Idid. Ididgive thanks. I was beyond lucky to have found my way here, to him.
I just hoped he felt some fraction of that for me, too.
Giza lowered his hands and his voice boomed out, “May you be blessed with bounties in the coming year. I welcome you toKap’paral, a celebration of our blessings this year.”
There was more cheering, then calling for the traditional stories. As Giza—as the eldest of the Eastshore orcs, the memory-keeper—began to speak, some of the audience began to move about, while others settled in for the tales.
