Page 46 of The Orc's Protection
“Then ask me,” he says. “Whatever you want to know.”
So I do. I ask about the clan halls, about what StoneWatch children were taught before they were warriors, about whether he misses the scent of his homeworld or just the familiarity of it. He answers carefully at first, then less carefully. The food goes lukewarm and neither of us notices.
By the time we clear the table, something has shifted—the earlier tension transformed into something more comfortable, though no less charged.
As I help load his dishwasher, my elbow bumps his arm. The jolt sends a quick, sharp awareness through me—one I was already fighting not to notice.
He goes still beside me. “Riona.” Just my name. Low, and not quite steady.
I lift my gaze to his. “Vraag.”
For a breathless moment, neither of us moves. Then, with deliberate slowness, he reaches out to brush a strand of hair from my face, his hand gentle against my cheek.
“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he admits.
“Me too,” I whisper, leaning into his touch.
He bends down as I rise on tiptoe, meeting halfway in a kiss that starts gentle but quickly deepens. His other arm circles my waist, drawing me against his solid warmth. I slide my hands up his chest to his shoulders, marveling at the breadth of him, the contained power in his frame.
His tusks press gently against my cheeks as our kiss intensifies, an alien sensation that now feels perfectly right. The rumble starts before the kiss deepens—low and involuntary, building in his chest against my palms. I’ve felt it before. The first time it caught me off guard, made me feel like I’d unlocked something I didn’t have the key for. Now I recognize it. Reach for it, even, the way you reach for a sound that tells you where you stand.
When we finally part, both slightly breathless, he doesn’t fully release me. Instead, his arms remain around my waist, keeping me close.
“My training never prepared me for this,” he murmurs, his tone wry.
“Says the orc who’s courting a human,” I counter with a grin.
Something in his expression settles—not more serious exactly, but deeper. Like the word fits, and he’s glad I’ve said it out loud.
“The protocols were never going to be adequate for this,” he says quietly.
“No,” I agree. “They weren’t.”
“In StoneWatch tradition, courtship has specific stages,” he explains, his thumb tracing the curve of my cheek. “Protection offerings, clan introductions, skill demonstrations, shared meals in private territories.”
“Well, we’ve done the protection offerings, even if I didn’t know what they meant at the time,” I point out. “The clan gathering, though I went into it blind, happened. And now we’re sharing a meal in your space.”
Something in his expression stills at my use of clan terminology—his attention narrowing, focus locking onto me.
“You’ve been paying attention.”
“I’m a teacher. It’s what I do.” I lean into his touch, savoring the warmth of his palm against my skin. “What’s next in this traditional sequence?”
“Meeting respected elders who can speak to character and compatibility,” he says. “Which is part of why I suggested the community center visit.”
As understanding dawns, my heart thumps wildly in my chest. “So, meeting these elders is a formal step in orc courtship? Not just cultural education?”
He has the grace to look slightly abashed. “Both purposes are valid. I should have explained the dual significance.”
Far from being upset, I’m oddly touched. “You’re introducing me to the orc equivalent of your family.”
“Those who maintain our traditions now serve that function, yes.” His expression grows uncertain. “Is that acceptable? Too soon?”
I reach up and touch his face briefly, then kiss him. “It’s perfectly acceptable. I’m honored, actually.”
His whole face relaxes with relief. “Many humans would find our courtship traditions too structured, too formal.”
“Well, I’m not many humans,” I remind him. “And structure has its advantages. At least we both know what this is now, even if we’re negotiating the details across cultures.”
