24. Epilogue
ROSEY
Two Months Later
T he sun hung near the horizon in a clear blue sky as the stagecoach creaked to a stop at the center of Lonesome Creek, the newly created “Wild West” town where Ostor and his six brothers would soon open a new tourist destination. It looked the part of a Western ghost town with its dusty wood-planked sidewalks, swinging saloon doors, and weathered signs for the general store, jailhouse, and a schoolhouse.
“This . . .” I trailed off, clutching the edge of the coach door. “This is amazing, Ostor.”
He hopped down first, his boots kicking up small puffs of dust. Spinning toward me, he grinned, tipping his hat back enough for me to catch the gleam of pride in his eyes. “Welcome to your new home, tiny one.”
The words were a little softer than his usual teasing, and my chest clenched at the way he said them. He’d dreamed of this moment as much as I had. This move was something we’d planned together, but hearing him call it my home out loud? It hit differently.
I'd quit my job and jumped all in with this new adventure, where I planned to help take care of the vast gardens they planned. Finally, I’d have a new use for the green thumb I’d had since I was little. They hoped to feed their guests completely from what they could grow and hunt on the surrounding land, and I would be a part of it all.
Taking both my hands in his, he steadied me as I stepped down. My sandals landed on firm ground, and before I could take in much of anything else, the air filled with a cacophony of cheers and running foot stomps. Six enormous orcs dressed in chaps, patterned shirts, open leather vests, and cowboy hats, waved and hollered as they rushed toward us from what looked like a combination barn and meeting hall on the town's edge. A slightly smaller orc woman with streaks of white in her short green hair led the charge.
Ostor grinned, his arm slipping around my shoulders as the group hustled over. “Here come my brothers and Aunt Inla.”
Ah, the infamous brothers. I’d heard plenty about them over the past months, their names coming up in Ostor’s stories every other sentence, but I’d only met Greel, who’d come to the airport to collect Ostor. He’d stared at me, his mouth slightly ajar, and said absolutely nothing. Ostor had mentioned that Greel was married to a woman named Jessi, and I couldn’t wait to meet her. We could compare notes. Not about that . . . but about how amazing our orc guys were.
Sel, Hail, Dungar, Tark, Ruugar, and Greel. Six big, goofy, pointy-eared versions of Ostor. They were also terrifyingly huge and adorably lonesome. They all needed brides, and I was going to see what I could do about that.
They came to a stop and all removed their hats, holding them against their chests while shuffling their dusty boots across the ground, their dark gazes darting in all sorts of directions.
“Ostor.” One of them leaped forward, giving my mate a back-slapping hug that looked like it could break a boulder. “Is this your precious human with the perfect name of Rosey?”
I grinned. “That’s me.”
Sel? Maybe Tark. One of the twins, for sure, gave me a sheepish grin as he scratched the back of his neck. “She’s small, like Jessi,” he whispered out of the corner of his mouth to Ostor.
Oddly enough, what looked like a raven perched on his right shoulder. It flapped its wings and pecked his cowboy hat before settling.
“Very small,” he whispered, but then, he was the biggest of the bunch, standing at least four inches above all the other orcs. And he was broader. The sweet look in his dark eyes belied his hulk-like appearance, however.
“I’m sorry.” The tips of Tark’s ears darkened. “I shouldn’t have remarked on your size. Greel didn’t mention how tiny you are.”
“Greel doesn’t say much of anything,” another brother said.
“I talk,” Greel said with a scowl.
“It’s okay,” I said, giving him a sympathetic look. “What’s your raven’s name?”
Tark’s face darkened to match his ears. “Sharga. That means Shadow in orcish.” He gently stroked the creature’s spine, his fingers appearing huge when compared to the bird.
Their aunt bustled forward and gave me a hug, lifting me off my feet and almost crushing the air from my lungs. “Welcome, sweetness. Welcome. Call me Aunt Inla, please.”
“Thank you.”
“Rosey may be small, but she has the biggest heart,” Ostor said. “Which you’ll soon see.”
“She must if she's with you.” Another brother stepped closer, holding out an enormous hand and tipping his head in greeting. “It’s nice to meet you, Rosey. I’m Ruugar.”
One by one, they introduced themselves, each offering shy smiles mixed with a touch of hope that made me feel happy and sad at the same time. None of them were married. From what Ostor said, few of them had even dated.
“I . . .” Color rose into Greel’s face as he patted my shoulder. “Jessi. Wife. Mate.”
“Jessi is amazing,” Dungar said. He peered around. “She’s here somewhere. I know she can’t wait to meet you. Jessi. Jessi!”
Greel glared at his brother. “Don’t yell at my mate.”
A lopsided grin rose on Dungar’s face. “I love her. You know that.”
“Don’t,” Greel growled.
Dungar laughed.
“You must be Rosey.” An older woman rushed out of the General Store, the swinging half-doors closing behind her. Reaching us, she gave me a big hug. “I’m Grannie Lil. You can call me that. I’m Jessi’s grandmother, but I’ve adopted every one of these guys and whoever they love, so that includes you.” She beamed.
Talk about being bowled over. “It’s nice to meet you.”
A woman with curly, shoulder-length brown hair left the General Store as well and joined us, leaning into Greel’s side. He wrapped her in his arms and curled his big body forward to kiss her cheek.
“Mate,” he sighed.
“I’m Jessi.” The woman’s bubbly laugh was infectious, and I found myself joining in as I shook her hand. “Welcome to Lonesome Creek. Where the cowboys are hot and orc and . . . hot.” She grinned. “I need to work on that logline, don’t I?”
“It’s amazing,” Greel said reverently, his eyes only for her.
“I’ll help if you want,” I said.
“That would be wonderful.” Jessi’s warm gaze scanned the guys looking raptly at me.
So many orc bachelors in need of love.
“I have plans for the rest of these boys,” Grannie Lil said. “Dating apps can work wonders.”
Greel’s face darkened, and he grunted.
“What woman wouldn’t want to meet one of my nephews?” Aunt Inla asked. “We’re setting things up, and we’ll rope in whoever is willing.”
Lil chuckled and nudged Inla with her elbow. “I do love using cowboy lingo, don’t you, partner?”
“It’s mighty fine,” Inla said. “Darn near perfect.” With a hand on her hip, she cocked an eyebrow at Ostor. “You’ve done well for yourself, nephew. A human bride, and a pretty one. When’s the wedding?”
“We haven’t picked a date yet,” I said.
Jessi’s smile widened. “I’ll help with the plans. I mean . . . if you’d like help.”
“I’d love that.” I could already tell I was going to love it here in Lonesome Creek. “I’ll reach out soon. I’m making a list.”
Ostor ducked his head, the tips of his ears twitching. “The wedding will be soon, Auntie.” We’d agreed on that. “I won’t risk her changing her mind.”
I snorted. “As if.”
“Smart boy.” Inla patted his cheek, her tusks glinting in the late-day sunlight as she turned her attention back to me. “And you are one smart cake yourself.”
“Cookie,” Lil said with a snort. “It’s one smart cookie.”
“Cake. Cookie. Whatever.” Inla grinned as she delivered the same stroke of her thumb to my cheek. “I can already see that you’re good for him, sweetness. His heart’s pure fymsom.”
Their version of gold.
I leaned into his side. “I see that already.”
“Alright, then.” Aunt Inla clapped her hands. “Back to work, younglings. There's still much to do to get ready for our grand opening. Perhaps . . .” Frowning, she tapped her chin. “I wouldn’t normally suggest such a thing, but what would you two think of holding your marriage right here in town as part of one of the attractions?”
“We’ll discuss it,” Ostor said, glancing down at me.
I nodded. My wedding a performance for the crowd? I wasn’t sure what I thought about that idea. We hadn’t talked about what kind of ceremony we wanted. Orcs didn’t hold formal weddings like humans. A mating mark was the same as a wedding band to them.
The guys gave me sweet smiles before sauntering away, returning to whatever they were doing before we arrived.
“I’ll be in touch,” Jessi said over her shoulder as she and Grannie Lil strode back to the general store.
Greel watched Jessi before sighing and hurrying over to leap onto the back of a sorhox.
Aunt Inla stayed with us. “Take Rosey home and show her how an orc treats his new mate.” Taking my hand, she kissed the symbol of our love. Leave it to Ostor to wait to tell me about what the mark meant while kneeling in front of me at the airport. Although, it might’ve softened the blow I thought he’d deliver if I knew he already considered us married.
“Are you ready to go home, little one?” he asked me.
At my nod, he tipped his head back and released a guttural whoop, whoop, whoop sound.
The ground vibrated, and I spun toward the oncoming noise.
A minivan-sized sorhox thundered around the barn and rushed toward us, its cloven hooves pounding on the dirt, each hoof tipped with three forearm-long claws. Its spiked tail whipped and curled above its enormous body, sharp enough to slice through anything that got in its way. Its nostrils flared as it snorted, releasing a cloud of steam, and two massive fangs jutted from either side of its upper jaw. Thick horns spiraled away from the sides of its head; their sharp tips perfect for gouging through whatever obstacle dared cross its path.
The beast slowed as it drew near, coming to a halt beside Ostor. It lowered its head and nudged him hard enough to make his cowboy hat flop sideways.
“This,” Ostor said, using one hand to grab onto the beast’s horn-like ridge thrusting out from its brow. “Is Balo, my sorhox. Rosey, meet Balo.”
“Balo?” My voice came out higher than usual as I stared up at the beast, its massive eyes dark green and oddly intelligent as it snorted at me like a dragon waiting to blast something with fire.
“He won’t hurt you,” Ostor said. “Not now that he knows you’re mine.”
“Are you sure about that?” My knees knocked together, and I wasn't sure if I should stay put or bolt as far from Balo as possible. Seeing one at a distance was one thing. Touching it was something completely different.
Ostor reached for my hand, folding it into his own. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes . . .” The word stumbled out.
“Then it’s time to ride, my little one.” He wrapped his hands around my waist and tossed me up onto Balo’s spine, gently settling me in place.
“Oh no, no, no,” I flailed. “Where do I put my hands? Wait—where do I put my feet?”
“Let them hang.” In one leap, Ostor vaulted gracefully up behind me, his taut abdomen pressing against my back. His arms encircled my waist, steadying me, and he leaned close, his voice rumbling in my ear. “Are you ready, love?”
It wasn’t just the sorhox that made my heart race. It was the full weight of his words. Love. My chest swelled as I leaned back against him, relaxing into his embrace. “I am.”
With a nudge of his heels, he set the sorhox into motion. Its massive hooves struck the earth like boulders as it galloped, and soon, the tourist town faded behind us. As the creature broke into a smooth, powerful gait, Ostor’s arousal pressed against my back.
“Are you always like this when you ride?” A crooked grin curved my lips as I leaned further into his body.
“Only when I’m with you,” he said.
As the sun started to set, streaking the sky with pink and orange, the sorhox carried us toward a horizon filled with promise.
“Yeehaw,” I cried, lifting my arms over my head.
Ostor curled around me to kiss my cheek.