Page 45 of The Orc's Protection
“I disagree.” I turn to face him, suddenly aware of how close we’re standing in the privacy of his home. “They’re beautiful. You’ve captured something essential about your world. It has a dreamy quality that calls to me.”
His gaze sharpens, heat flickering there for a split second, longing held tightly in check. For a moment, I think he might reach for me. Instead, he steps back, gesturing toward the dining room table.
“We should eat while it’s hot.”
The moment passes, though the undercurrent remains as we unpack containers of pad Thai, Panang curry, and various rice dishes. I watch with fascination as Vraag arranges everything with methodical precision, grouping similar foods together before retrieving plates that look custom-made for orc portions, significantly larger than standard human dinnerware.
“Water? Or I have beer,” he offers.
“Beer sounds perfect.”
He retrieves two bottles from the fridge, opening mine before handing it over. The simple courtesy feels oddly intimate.
We settle at his dining table, which I notice is positioned to provide a clear view of both the front door and balcony entrance.
“District security completed its preliminary review this afternoon,” Vraag says as we serve ourselves. “I’ve notified Principal Winters.”
I pause, fork halfway to my mouth. “What did she say?”
“She’s meeting with district security tomorrow. The police report will be updated.” His jaw tightens slightly. “Sheacknowledged the pattern wasn’t consistent with random vandalism.”
“That’s progress, at least.” I take a bite of the curry, which is so delicious it distracts me for a moment. “Did she mention… anything else?”
“She reiterated professional boundary expectations.” His gaze meets mine across the table. “Observed that my concern seemed ‘particularly focused’ on your classroom.”
“I bet she did.” I can’t help a slight eye roll. “Did you tell her that’s literally your job, being concerned about security threats, especially in my classroom?”
He looks almost pleased with himself. “I explained that protection priorities are assigned based on vulnerability assessments and previous targeting patterns.”
“Very professional,” I approve, smiling despite the seriousness of the situation.
“I am capable of diplomacy,” he says with that almost-smile I’ve come to adore. “When necessary.”
We eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the tension of the day gradually easing.
“I’ve been thinking,” he says suddenly, setting down his fork. “About your questions regarding orc traditions.”
“Yes?” I encourage when he hesitates.
“Perhaps meeting others beyond Grulk would provide better understanding.”
My heart leaps at the suggestion. “You want me to meet more of your people?”
“Specifically elders who maintain cultural knowledge.” He watches my reaction closely. “There is a gathering place—not for large ceremonies like First Frost, but a clan gathering house we call HearthHouse where traditional practices continue.”
“I would love that,” I reply immediately. “When?”
He seems surprised by my enthusiasm, then pleased by it. “This weekend? Sunday afternoon? Elder Korgath maintains a traditional cooking circle. Others gather for crafts and language preservation.”
“It sounds perfect.” I meet his eyes. “Thank you for the offer.”
For a moment neither of us speaks.
Then he says, quietly, “You’ve shown unusual interest in understanding. Not just observing.”
“I want to understand your world,” I tell him. “Not just how you’ve learned to adjust to ours. What you’ve carried with you. What matters to you.”
Somewhere during the conversation, his hand had settled over mine on the tabletop. He looks at me the way he rarely does—notthe careful, assessing attention he gives the world, but with an open expression.
