6. Kavin
Kavin
T he next work week goes by quickly. But meanwhile, I can’t keep my mind off what happened at Grinder’s Coffee.
Each night I close my eyes and replay that scene at the coffee shop.
The way Mia stood up for me without hesitation.
The fierce protectiveness in her voice when that human refused to serve me.
The way she stepped back and let me handle the situation, showing a respect for my authority that most humans—hell, most orcs—don’t ever display.
And then there’s that moment when I took her hand under the table. What the hell was I thinking? My fingers moved without conscious thought, intertwining with hers as if it was the most natural thing in the world. The contact sent heat up my arm, causing my tusks to throb with want again.
Her friends’ words echo in my head on repeat:
“You two are perfect together.”
“Don’t mess this up, Mia. He’s good for you.”
The way they all looked at us, like we were already a mated couple.
But the worst part is how my body reacts to these memories.
I’m constantly enflamed, ready to mate, my skin running hotter than usual.
My cock remains semi-hard throughout most of the day, and I find myself taking cold showers twice daily just to function.
The only time I can keep my mind off Mia is when I’m actively working, responding to calls, training, maintaining equipment.
The moment my mind is idle, it goes straight back to her.
The scent of her arousal that day still lingers in my memory. She wants me as much as I want her, and that knowledge is driving me to the edge of sanity.
By Thursday, I realize I need to do something. My apartment feels wrong now. It’s too small and temporary. I look around at the space and see it through different eyes. The furniture is basic and lacks personal touches, more like a hotel room than a home.
It suddenly seems very important to purchase a human-style house in Spokane, the town where I plan to remain for many years to come.
I call a real estate agent and set up appointments for the weekend. I’m not entirely sure why this feels so urgent, but the need is undeniable. This apartment isn’t enough anymore. I need more space, something permanent, something that feels like it could be a real home.
And Mia needs to be there with me when I go house hunting.
The thought seems slightly wrong, but once it’s there, it hardens like cement.
Yes, Mia Martin should see the houses I am considering to purchase.
She should give me her honest opinion. This makes perfect sense considering she’s lived in Spokane her whole life, knows the neighborhoods and will always tell me the absolute truth in all instances, no matter how harsh, which I think is her best quality.
But am I right? Is it wrong to invite Mia on my house hunt? I pace my apartment like a caged animal, my body thrumming with restless energy. I need to talk this through with someone who will understand.
Therefore, I call Talon.
“I’m at Heat & Ink, but lucky for you I’m between appointments,” he says by way of greeting.
“I need to buy a house,” I respond.
“Since when?”
“Since this week. I’ve hired a real estate agent. I’m looking at houses today.”
There’s a pause. “And you’re calling me because…?”
“Because I want Mia to come with me and I don’t understand why.”
“Ah.” I can hear the amusement in his voice. “You really don’t know why you want her with you for this house hunt?”
“Because she’s my friend? My neighbor? She knows the area better than I do?”
“No,” Talon says with a chuckle, “because she’s your future bride. You want her with you to pick out her new home.”
My jaw clenches. “I vowed to never take a bride. I’m going to remain single for the rest of my life.”
“Well, the problem is that when you moved to live and work amongst humans, the vastly larger pool of single females in this city included your biological match. You’ve always liked how Mia Martin smells, haven’t you?”
“Yes,” I grumble.
“And you can still scent her reciprocal arousal?”
I exhale heavily. “Yes. It seems to grow stronger the more time we spend together.”
“She’s yours. Your body knows it even if your mind won’t accept it.”
A growl rumbles in my chest. “This doesn’t mean I can trust her.”
Talon snorts. “I heard how she defended you at that human coffee shop. It’s spreading around the whole orc community. When you eventually take her to the brewery, they’re sure to give her a standing ovation.”
“That’s just one incident?—”
“Kavin.” His voice turns serious. “You’re nesting. That’s why you suddenly need a house. That’s why you want her there to help you choose. Your body is preparing a home for your mate and future offspring.”
The words hit hard because I know he’s right. The restless energy, the sudden dissatisfaction with my apartment, the urgent need to find something bigger and better, it’s all nesting behavior. Ancient orc instincts preparing for a family I swore I’d never have. “Shit,” I mutter.
“Exactly. So stop fighting your instincts and ask the female to help you find a house.”
Before I can respond, my phone buzzes with a text. Mia’s name appears on the screen, and my heart rate spikes.
Are you avoiding me?
Her question catches me off guard. Am I avoiding her? These past few days of minimal contact, of only seeing her from a distance, was that avoidance or just circumstance?
“I have to go,” I tell Talon. “Mia just sent me a text.”
“Ask her,” he says before hanging up.
I stare at Mia’s text for a long moment, then type back quickly.
No. I was actually about to ask you something. Want to help me look at houses today?
Her response comes almost immediately.
Houses? You’re moving out of your apartment?
Maybe. The real estate agent is showing me a few places this afternoon. Could use a second opinion from someone who knows the area.
Sure. What time?
We arrange to meet at one o’clock, and I spend the rest of the morning trying to convince myself that I can still take this slow.
The first house the real estate agent shows us is enormous.
It sits on five acres outside the city limits, a sprawling structure with vaulted ceilings, multiple living areas, and enough bedrooms to house a small army.
The agent is a kind, middle-aged human named Patricia who guides us through room after room, pointing out features like the gourmet kitchen, the primary suite with sitting area and the three-car garage.
I think it’s much too big, but the privacy certainly appeals to me. It never ceases to amaze me how humans live in such excessive space and consider this normal.
Mia grows quieter as the tour progresses. When we reach the primary bedroom with its massive walk-in closet and spa-like bathroom, she barely says a word.
“What do you think?” I ask as we follow Patricia back downstairs.
“It’s…a lot,” Mia answers carefully.
I glance over at her, puzzled by this response.
“The asking price is actually good for what you get,” my real estate agent informs us. “But given the market and the acreage, there’s room for negotiation.”
“I cannot believe we’re touring a million-dollar home,” Mia whispers. “Is this a joke?”
My brow furrows. “No, this is what she’s showing me because it’s what I can easily
afford and also the setting is what I asked for.”
Mia stares at me. “Are you rich?”
The direct question catches me off guard. “Well, I guess? All orcs are essentially rich by human standards but also none of us covet purchasing. We don’t use banks traditionally, so I’ve been converting gold and jewels as needed.”
“Oh my gosh,” she breathes. “This is crazy. I can’t…I mean, this place is huge. It’s like a mansion.”
“You don’t like it? Isn’t this the type of house humans prefer?”
“It’s beautiful,” she says quickly. “It’s just…You know me. I can’t live in a place like this.” Then she covers her mouth with a hand, her eyes wide as if the words slipped out before she could stop them.
We both freeze on the steps of the main staircase, the words hanging in the air between us.
“I mean,” she corrects, her cheeks flushing, “this place is not really my style. Too fancy. Too isolated. But maybe it’s your style, which is perfectly fine considering this house will be for you and not for me.”
Patricia glances back up at us, clearly picking up on the undercurrents. “Perhaps we should look at something different? More suburban?”
“Yes,” I agree. “Let’s do that.”
Mia pulls out her phone and starts scrolling.
“Can I show you something?” Then she hands me the small screen, displaying a real estate listing I’ve never seen before.
The house is much smaller than the one we’ve been touring.
It has less than two thousand square feet, three bedrooms and two baths and is situated in a tree-lined neighborhood with well-maintained yards and sidewalks.
“This is for sale in Riverside,” she explains, leaning closer so we can both see the screen.
Her scent fills my nostrils, and I must concentrate on not grabbing her.
“It’s a nice, centrally located neighborhood.
Good schools, tree lined streets. And, well, a lot of first responders live there—teachers, nurses, firefighters, EMTs. People like us.”
“People like us,” I repeat, noting how easily she groups us together.
“Yeah. It’s not fancy, but it’s solid. Good bones, good community.
” She scrolls through the photos. “Look, this house has a fenced backyard, updated kitchen, hardwood floors throughout. And see this?” She points to one of the photos.
“Built-in bookshelves in the living room. Perfect for someone who reads as much as you do.”
I study the listing, noting details I wouldn’t have considered important before.
The neighborhood school ratings. The proximity to parks and shopping.
The fact that other first responders live there appeals to me because there will be a built-in community of neighbors who understand the demands of our work.
“If I were to pick a home for myself,” she continues, her voice growing more animated, “I’d pick this one.
” The words hang in the air, and I see her realize what she’s said again.
“Sorry, I’m doing it again.” Her cheeks flush again and she starts to backtrack.
“I mean, not that I’m picking anything. It’s your house, your decision.
I just thought I’d show this to you, because I think it’s perfect for someone who might want to be part of a community instead of isolated on the outskirts of town.
But, if you love the idea of living so far out because of privacy, then you can totally ignore my suggestion, no harm, no foul. ”
But I’m barely listening to her corrections. Instead, I memorize every detail of the house listing and the way her eyes light up when she talks about the neighborhood.
I show the listing to my real estate agent. Patricia programs the address into her GPS. “We can drive by if you’d like to see the exterior.”
Twenty minutes later, we’re parked in front of a charming two-story house with a wraparound porch and mature oak trees in the front yard. It’s nothing like the mansion we just toured. It’s smaller, more modest, but somehow it feels right in a way the first house didn’t.
“It’s perfect,” Mia breathes.
I hear the longing in her voice and watch as she talks about the details, the way she notices the flower boxes under the windows, the swing on the front porch, the basketball hoop visible in the driveway next door, suggesting that families with children live nearby.
“The listing says it was recently updated,” Patricia notes, consulting her tablet. “New roof, HVAC system, all appliances included. Move-in ready.”
Mia turns to me. “What do you think?”
I think I want to give her exactly what she wants. I want her on that front porch, in that kitchen, making this house into the home she’s envisioning. And I think Talon is right that this female is my future bride, and I’m terrified of what that means.
“It’s worth considering.”