Page 18 of The Orc's Protection
We reach her classroom, and she unlocks the door, still wrapped in my coat. Inside, she doesn’t immediately remove it, instead moving to prepare her day’s materials with the oversized garment still cocooning her small frame.
“This is seriously the warmest thing I’ve ever worn,” she comments, rolling up the sleeves for the third time as they slide down over her hands. “What’s it made of?”
“Standard tactical fabric with thermal regulation,” I explain, watching as she moves around the classroom in my coat. “Enhanced with protective treatments.”
“It smells nice,” she adds casually, then looks slightly embarrassed at the admission. “I mean, whatever treatment they use has a good scent. Like cedar and something spicy.”
I go very still.
The oils I use contain cedar extract and a spice blend close to what humans call cloves—a poor substitute for clan compounds from our world, but the closest approximation I’ve found. I have used them so long they no longer smell like anything to me.
They smell like something to her.
She moves through the classroom, still wrapped in my coat, completely unaware of what she’s just said. That she has noticed. That she likes it. That she is, in this moment, wearing my scent and telling me so without knowing that’s what she’s doing.
All that careful distance.
And she just walked through it as if it wasn’t there.
“Traditional… preservation method,” I manage, unwilling to explain that the scent she finds pleasant is specifically designed to mark what belongs to me.
“Well, it’s nice. Most men’s coats smell like awful cologne or nothing at all,” she says, and returns to her morning preparations.
Before I can respond, the classroom door bangs open with unexpected force. Grulk stands in the doorway, toolbox in hand, grinning broadly.
“Morning maintenance check, Ms. Walker,” he announces, eyes immediately fixing on the coat she wears. His tusked smile widens impossibly further. “Just need to verify your heating vent is functioning with this cold snap and check on the equipment in the adjoining A/V storage room. That new projector system they installed last month keeps tripping the circuit when teachers use it.”
“Oh, thank you,” she responds, seemingly oblivious to his knowing glance between her and me. “It does feel a bit chilly in here.”
“I see StoneWatch has provided an alternative heating solution,” Grulk says, nodding toward the coat with an exaggerated solemnity that barely masks his amusement.
I step forward, positioning myself subtly between them. “Don’t you have other classrooms to check, Grulk?”
“Yours was first on my list,” he counters innocently. “Can’t have our teachers getting cold, can we?”
As he kneels to examine the heating vent, he speaks in rapid Orcish, his voice low enough that Ms. Walker can’t hear, but I can.
“Traditional courtship coat-gift before even introducing her to the clan? Bold move, warrior. Your father wouldn’t approve.”
The words land harder than they should. I become acutely aware of Riona standing close enough that I can feel her warmth—still wrapped in my coat, my scent saturating the fabric around her. The awareness hits like a physical impact—too close, too intimate, too right.
“Temporary weather protection, nothing more,” I respond in the same language, my jaw tight.
“Tell that to your scent markers,” Grulk chuckles. “Every orc in a five-block radius will recognize your claim by midday.”
“There is no claim,” I insist, growing increasingly uncomfortable with his implications and having to stifle a growl.
Grulk rises, having made a show of adjusting something at the vent. “All fixed, Ms. Walker. The heat should improve soon.” He turns to me with a tusked grin. “As I was saying earlier, Vraag, the HammerFall gathering tomorrow night would welcome both of you. Good food, good company.”
Ms. Walker glances between us, clearly sensing an undercurrent she doesn’t understand. “Gathering?”
“First Frost Feast,” Grulk explains before I can intervene. “Traditional celebration. Plenty of food, music, and community. We host it at the cultural center on Oakridge Drive.”
“That sounds fascinating,” she says, looking genuinely interested. “I’ve always wanted to learn more about orc traditions.”
Grulk’s expression turns triumphant. “Perfect! Vraag can bring you as his—”
“Colleague,” I interject firmly, giving Grulk a warning look. “If you’re interested in cultural exchange.”
