Chapter 2 #2
I wanted to be smug, but I just felt defeated. He wasn’t throwing me out the door any longer, but this interview was definitely over. “Siracha-honey,” I sighed. “It’s my own combination.”
“Son of a bitch,” he mumbled as he scrubbed a hand down his face. “It’s fucking delightful.”
Why did he sound defeated?
Oh, for the love of shit, this human could bake.
Who would have thought to combine the sweet and spicy flavors in a delicate cookie like that? And those apple things? There was a smokey bourbon flavor, and the cinnamon was subtle—thank the gods below, because there was a reason orcs didn’t completely adore that particular human spice.
I sighed as I pulled my hand away from my face, wondering exactly how spiteful I was being.
The tiny human was staring at me, defeat warring with cautious hope in those big green eyes, her body language telling me she’d rather be elsewhere, but she was here because she needed to be.
If she really was as desperate as she’d sounded…
I sighed.
At least she wasn’t afraid of me any longer, although I wasn’t sure why. Hadn’t she seen me? The scent of her terror—after I’d roared at her, sent her scrambling away from me… It had been sour on my tongue, and I’d tried to control myself.
You’re not angry at her, you asshole. Don’t take it out on her.
No, I was angry at Sylvik. Except… I popped another apple tart thing in my mouth. The more of these I ate, the less angry I became. The little bastard knew me, I’ll give him that. Riven Starr might be human, might be a female, but she could bake, and her menus had been intriguing as hell.
But I didn’t want her here, didn’t want her in my space, her scent coating everything. I’d spent ten years avoiding humans, and I wasn’t about to invite one into my home now.
Without thinking, I grabbed one of the brownies. When the salted caramel exploded on my tongue, I bit down hard on my groan. So fucking good.
“Look, Mr. Abydos…”
Her tone was low, almost pleading, and when I realized my eyes were closed, I refused to open them. I wasn’t going to see her expression, not now.
Not when my Kteer—that primitive part of me which I thought long dead—had stirred at the sound of my name on her lips.
Gods below, I needed to get laid.
“Mr. Abydos—”
“Orcs don’t use mister,” I growled, turning away so I could open my eyes. “It’s a stupid human tradition.” One I’d enjoyed making use of over the years. I’d beaten them at their own game, forced them to respect me.
So why, standing here in my office, watching the magnificent storm over the cliffs, did I suddenly feel as if I’d lost?
It wasn’t until I heard her swallow that I realized how attuned to the tiny human I’d become. It was as if all my senses—including my Kteer, deep in my chest—were focused on her.
Her, this little speck of life in the center of my emptiness.
The storm raging outside my window shrank to nothingness when I heard her inhale.
“I need this job,” she said in a small voice. “I don’t have to live here—”
“The job is live-in,” I snapped. “Sylvik—”
“He explained it to me.”
In the glass, I saw my reflection raise a ruined brow. She’d interrupted me. I wasn’t used to being interrupted.
“Mr. Sylvik explained all about zoning and how your chef will need to claim this residence as her—my full-time home, because the mayor apparently doesn’t believe there are different laws for rich guys.”
I felt my lips twitch.
“Yeah, well, when the mayor is the same male who held you as you nearly bled out ten years ago, and then still managed to save your ass, you follow his rules.”
I hadn’t meant to confess that, and I could taste her curiosity from across the room. If this was going to work out, I couldn’t afford her poking into my life—
Wait. I wasn’t seriously considering this was I?
You weren’t until you tasted those brownies. And those apple tarts. And the fucking macarons.
“Whatever you have against humans, Mr. Abydos—”
Suddenly enraged by that mister—and by my own weakness—I whirled about and slammed my fists down on my desk. “It’s just Abydos,” I snarled. “I’m just me.”
Except.
For ten years, I’d tried so godsdamn hard to be more. To beat the humans at their own game. And look where it’d gotten me—torn up, confused, and still hungry.
She wasn’t scared.
There was no scent of fear coming off her. In fact, the little human dropped her hands to her hips and cocked her head to one side. “I doubt you’re just anything, buddy.”
Buddy? Buddy? That was as rare as someone interrupting me. I shook my head, opened my mouth, and she beat me to it again.
“Whatever you think humans do—”
“What they do is this!” I roared, pointing my claws at my ruined face. “And more! Humans are a plague, full of hatred and fear and the urge to destroy everything they come across!”
She’d flinched at my initial bellow, but I had the feeling she was listening more to the words that followed than she ought to. And when she actually dropped her hands from her hips and took a step toward me, I reared back.
Was I running from this tiny little human female?
“Yes,” she said, and it took me a moment to remember what she was responding to. “Humans can be full of hatred and violence and all that stuff you said. But not all of us are like that.” She stopped on the other side of my desk. “Not me.”
Not me.
Behind me, thunder crashed and lightning lit the sky, and in here, the silence was broken only by the sound of her pulse.
Not me.
My tongue darted out and flicked against my broken tusk, the old habit grounding me as the pain darted through me. “All humans are dangerous.”
Her lips twitched. “Do I look dangerous? We’re not all monsters—not even you.” There was something sparkling in her green eyes, something I didn’t like. Was she teasing me? “Besides…we all have scars.”
Her palms rose toward her chest, as if she was going to show me something, but she arrested the movement and turned it into a shrug. “Plus, I am a really good cook.”
“Tomorrow,” I rasped.
And it wasn’t until the word was out, and her brow went up in challenge, that I realized what I’d said.
Fuck it, I wasn’t going to back down now. Not when she was watching me warily like she expected the worst. My Kteer rumbled in my chest, urging me to seal the deal, to keep her. Keep her coming back.
For the brownies, I told myself.
So I took a deep breath and hoped I wasn’t making the biggest mistake of my life.
“One fuck-up, Ms. Starr, and you’re gone.”
Her expression cleared with understanding. “You’re hiring me?”
“On a trial basis,” I growled. “I can’t fire you because you’re human, or because you’re sick—”
“Yeah, yeah, but you can find some other reason to fire me.” Her face split into a grin. “You won’t regret this, Abydos.”
The fuck I wouldn’t.
Because seeing her smile like that? Feeling her look at me as if I were a godsdamned hero? Hearing the way her lips caressed my name?
I was already regretting it.
But those macarons…
“You can start tomorrow.” I took a deep breath. “A trial. Don’t move all your shit in yet.”
“Right.” Backing away from my desk, she gave me a cocky little salute. “Don’t get my hopes up. I probably won’t last a day.”
“You likely won’t,” I snarled. “Stop acting like you won.”
“Oh, I didn’t.” She reached the door. “You won, Abydos. Try the lavender one, it’s the best.”
And then she was gone. I heard her running down the hallway, heard when she stopped to do a spin and hiss a quiet “Yessss!” I heard the front door slam. Heard her leave my space, my life.
Just for a few hours.
Exhaling, I reached down to carefully pick up the pale purple cookie.
She was right. It was the best.