Page 23 of Ella’s Obsessive Orc

Chapter 10

Oren

I’m in the middle of the best goddamn dream when the chirp of my phone’s emergency line blares through the room loud enough to make my ears ring. Instantly, my heart slams into gear, all battle reflex and no sense, and my arm shoots out for the device.

I catch it on the third try, nearly caving in the nightstand, and fumble the screen to my face. I am only dimly aware of Ella burrowing under the sheets, her body a soft, trusting weight tucked along my side. She makes a noise like a startled kitten, then peeks up at me, blinking, her hair an explosion of flames tangled across my chest. The phone’s glow casts her in blue light, making her eyes look enormous. She’s perfect. And for a split second, all I want to do is put the phone down and go back to pretending the universe isn’t a relentless asshole.

But the universe does not take requests. Especially not from me.

“Arch,” I bark, voice still half-wrapped in sleep and sex and her.

It’s Ronan, the front gate guard. “Sir, we’ve got a situation at the west entrance. There’s a… uh… human female here. She’s refusing to leave. Causing a disturbance. Says she won’t speak to anyone except for Ella Blume.” There’s a short pause. “She’s yelling, sir.”

I feel my blood pressure spike. Not because it’s a security threat. But because this is going to hurt my mate. Fuck that shit.

“She’s got short blonde hair, human-style business suit, sunglasses, and a voice that could break steel,” Ronan continues. “She’s already called the main office a ‘primitive outpost’ and threatened to have the whole Council shut down by the weekend. She’s—” There’s a slight pause. “She’s demanding to see her daughter. And only her daughter.”

“I’ll be right down,” I grumble and drop the phone, rub my eyes, and turn toward Ella.

She’s gone corpse-pale in the space of a heartbeat, all the color leached from her face except for the two bright spots of panic burning on her cheeks. Her hands are locked around the top sheet, white-knuckled, and her mouth hangs open, forming a silent question. I answer it before she can ask.

“Your mother’s at the gate.”

She doesn’t breathe for a count of three. Then, all at once, she shrinks into herself, pulling her knees up, clutching the sheets tighter to her chest. Her hands tremble so badly the fabric flutters. Her pupils go wide. I can almost taste the adrenaline coming off her. “I can’t believe she showed up here.” Tears fill my mate’s eyes, and I want to murder her bitch mother on sight. “I’m so sorry you have to deal with this.”

“Hey,” I say, forcing my voice down to something lower, closer to gentle. I reach for her shoulder, touch her as if she might break. “You don’t have to apologize.” My voice comes out rougher than intended, but I lean in and keep it quiet, just for her. “You didn’t do anything wrong. This is my territory, and I’ll handle it.” I make my hand relax, cover her fist with my palm, careful not to squeeze too tightly. Leaning over, I kiss her soft lips then slide out of bed.

As I drag on my clothes, Ella sits frozen. Her hands are still knotted in the sheet, her knees to her chest. She looks so small, so unarmored, I have to check the urge to sweep her up and carry her with me. But I know her well enough to know she’d hate that. She’d rather walk through fire than be handled like a child. So, I settle for what I can do.

“Stay here,” I say. “I’ll deal with her.” My voice is a little too sharp. I can’t help it. “You’re mine now, and I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“I know.” She nods, and this time, she smiles for real. “Wait up. I’m coming with you.”

I open my mouth to argue, but the second I lock eyes with her, that familiar damn stubbornness is written all over her face. She’s not backing down, and honestly? My chest goes tight with pride. The universe handed me a mate who doesn’t shrink, doesn’t fold, doesn’t let some bitchy relative dictate her life. If my job is to be her shield, hers is to face shit head-on, even when it’s ugly. I fucking love that about her.

“Fine,” I mutter, but my voice comes out softer than I expect. “You want to stare down your mother, you do it standing right next to me.” I jerk my chin toward the closet, watching her scramble for clothes. My mate. The best damn choice the universe ever made.

We march out the front door, my mate’s hand in mine, and the early light is brutal and green and sharp as a blade through the archways. She walks beside me, spine straight, jaw locked, and I can practically taste the adrenaline rolling off her skin. If her mother wants a showdown, she picked the wrong fucking morning.

As we round the last curve to the main gate, I spot the cavalry. Aric’s already there on high alert, baby strapped to his chest, with Kol pacing the perimeter. There are three extra guards standing at parade rest. Typical. Overkill, but nobody’s taking chances with an Arch mate on the line.

The human woman’s voice carries all the way down the avenue, shrill and annoying as fuck. My fists clench, but I force a calm I don’t feel. I signal Aric and Kol with a single chop of my hand: Stand down. My mate will handle this.

The woman at the center of it all finally catches sight of us. She goes dead silent for a heartbeat, then points her phone directly at Ella.

“Ella! Are they keeping you prisoner? Blink twice if you need a rescue!” The woman striding up the avenue is a fucking banshee in business casual. One who looks like she’s been rode hard and put away wet one too many times.

Right behind the banshee are two tall, skinny women with faces like they’ve been sucking lemons since birth. They look enough like Ella to piss me off, but there’s none of her warmth or fire in either of them. One’s got platinum hair yanked back tight enough to lift her eyebrows into permanent surprise; the other’s got the same shade, but limp and flat, hanging around her face like a cheap curtain. Both are dressed for a corporate firing squad, all stiff skirts and pointy shoes that’d snap in a real fight. Their eyes flick back and forth, pinched and judgmental, scanning the settlement like they’re here to appraise property values and find everything lacking. If they’re anything like their mother, it’s a fucking miracle Ella turned out the way she did.

“Are you okay?” One of the women wails, and her shrill voice actually hurts my eardrums. Ella actually snorts so loud my brothers glance over, smirking. I almost laugh. Almost.

We approach the barrier. The guards step back. The crowd hushes, every face locked on the unfolding spectacle. I square my shoulders, making sure every inch of me is visible over the fence.

“Ms. Blume,” I say, voice all command. “You’re trespassing on private property and disrupting settlement peace. State your business and vacate the premises.”

She turns to me, eyebrows arched so high they nearly disappear. “And you are?”

“Oren Arch,” I say, then add to make my point, “Prince Regent and Ella’s mate.”