25. Tark
Chapter 25
Tark
G racie didn’t come back downstairs. I told myself she was tired from her run-in with the chumble mother, the attacking sorhox. That her ankle hurt more than she’d told me.
It had nothing to do with me. But doubts kept banging on my skull, demanding entry. It was all I could do to keep them out.
She wasn’t upset about the redness. She told me it was alright. She even said she wanted more.
I was going to believe in Gracie even when I found it nearly impossible to believe in myself.
When she didn’t come down the next day for breakfast, or lunch, or even dinner, I told myself she still needed time to rest. Maybe to think.
But then she didn’t answer her phone when I called her. Thoughts that she might be rejecting me started slicing through my belly. It hurt, and I did my best to shove them away. No, I told myself, I believed in Gracie. In us. And I was going to fight for us with every tool at my command.
So I went to visit Dungar for last-minute suggestions for how to woo my mate, and I came away with a wonderful idea. It took me a bit to gather what I needed, and the sun had set, and a big old moon had risen before I was in position behind the hotel, directly below Gracie’s window.
I crouched, my boots crunching on the gravel behind the building. The sweetness of blooming something-or-others floated through the air, and the moon above hung over us like a fat, silver ball. Not threatening to fall on us or anything. It looked pretty. Peaceful. Perfect for what I had planned for tonight.
This would show her I cared.
This would show her we deserved a life together.
My knees groaned as I settled on the ground, though not louder than the pounding in my chest.
Dungar’s words clattered in my skull.
“A serenade,” he’d said, like it was obvious. “Soft words to melt her heart. That's what you need to do, Tark.” He’d grinned, and I could tell that while he might be envious, he was happy for me. I'd be happy for me too as long as this worked.
I’d thought about his plan for over an hour, and I still wasn’t sure it was the best option for me, but I’d try. I had to do something .
My fingers looked too thick to pluck the strings of the borrowed gee-tar resting beside me. It belonged to a friend of a friend of Dungar's, and it had been brought to me from three towns away. Pete told me I was welcome to use it as long as I didn't snap it in half. I tried not to think about that now.
Warm light leaked around the curtains in Gracie's window above. Maybe she was sitting up there, wondering what I was up to. Or maybe she wasn’t thinking of me at all. The second thought stung more than I liked.
I scooped up a pebble and rubbed it between my fingers. It felt right, and I took that as a good sign. My hands fumbled as I slung the gee-tar strap over my shoulder, the curve of the instrument awkward against my bulky frame. It was too small, or my body was too big, and either way, it didn’t sit right. But I tried.
I tossed the pebble toward Gracie's window—and missed.
Alright. Searching around, I found a bigger pebble and threw that. Still missed.
With a grumble, I located an even bigger pebble and studying the distance, I made a better plan for my throw.
One good toss, and it banged against her window.
Yessss.
Before I could let stress flood my veins, I thrust my fingers against the strings, the sound it released a squeaky, twanging mess. I snatched my hand back like the thing had bitten me, glancing quickly up at her window. No movement. At this point, that was good. She'd expect something better than what I'd produced with the gee-tar so far.
Focus was hard with all my doubts pushing at me like a sorhox in a pen too small. Songs weren't orc ways. Words with no action behind them floated away like smoke. But Dungar said they'd hold weight in this town and with a potential mate, and I wanted Gracie to feel her weight in my world.
My brain fumbled for the words I was instructed to use, and I scratched them up my throat as I stroked the strings again, grimacing at the discordant sound.
“Gracie,” I rasped toward the window, trying to put that “lint” in my voice Dungar and Pete said I needed.
No. Wait. Not lint. Lilt .
I muttered something about being where sorhoxes roam and geese and cantaloupes play. What in all the fates did that mean? I wasn't sure, but those were the words Pete made me practice. Why would geese play with cantaloupes? Although, they could roll them on the ground before they ate them. I'd tried one once, and I'd liked it. Geese must too.
I also wasn't sure how this would show Gracie my true devotion, but it was too late to slink home now.
She didn't come to the window. Should I throw an even bigger rock?
I'd try singing some more first. She'd hear, then come to the window and thrust up the slash—no, sash —and poke her head out. She'd laugh and chide me in a nice way, then come down to see me. I'd finish my song, and then we'd walk under the moonlight. Maybe kiss, Dungar had suggested. He hadn't mentioned anything else, but licking could probably come in there somewhere. Gracie had enjoyed it, and it hadn't made her red. My cock had done that. And my hard thrusts. That she'd asked for. I think.
I hunched over the gee-tar again. “Gracie,” I croaked, trying to find that lilt that eluded me. My fingers slid clumsily over the strings, the gee-tar yelping out notes like a wounded chumble chick. “You, uh…” My voice wavered, but I pressed on. “You light up my days like… like the sun warms the cold caves below the ground. With the dirt. Rocks. And all that…stuff.”
The words tasted awkward in my mouth, but Pete had said human females liked comparisons. I scratched my fingers over the strings again, creating a sound that might’ve scared off a sorhox if it was standing nearby. That was one way to keep them from roaming through town.
My tusks clacked together when I winced.
Still no movement at the window. Not a whisper of the curtains shifting or her shadow passing by. My stomach churned like a restless herd of, well, cantaloupes, assuming they gathered in herds.
I adjusted my grip on the gee-tar, trying to remember Pete’s instructions. “It’s like a cow, Tark,” he’d said. “You don’t milk it all at once. Gentle pulls and a steady rhythm.” But I’d never milked a cow. Sorhoxes, sure, but they weren’t gentle animals. This gee-tar wasn’t either. It felt alive, squirming under my grip like it wanted to escape.
Channeling every bit of imagined grace I didn’t have, I plucked at the strings one by one. The sound was slightly less offensive this time. Encouraged, I cleared my throat and tried again. “Gracie, your smile is sweeter than… the slugs we steal from wop-boars underground.” I hesitated. Was that flattering? “Your laughter’s softer than triladee fur after the spring molt.”
Stop belting out anything about molting, Tark. No one's excited about molting other than a few random birds who might collect the fur for their nests.
But it was soft, almost as soft as Gracie's skin.
Maybe molting wouldn't be a bad thing to mention in my song then.
A light flickered inside her room. My heart leapt so hard I nearly tossed the gee-tar against the hotel's back wall. She must’ve heard me. Of course, she did. Steeling myself, I tried to make up the next verse, but the words tangled in my throat. Instead, I hummed a rough tune, one Dungar had practiced with me earlier.
It sounded much better when he did it.
Thunk.
Something hit the ground near my feet. I froze. Did she drop something? I turned my head to find a potted plant lay toppled on its side, dirt spilling across the gravel. She hadn’t meant to throw that, had she?
“Uh, Gracie?” I called up, my voice much too croaky for seduction.
I stared at the window, waiting, hoping, praying. The curtains didn’t move. Maybe she didn’t mean for the plant to fall. Maybe it blew off the windowsill. I could swear I’d seen it up there a while ago. Except there wasn’t any wind.
I crouched to scoop the pot upright. It was a little clay thing, cracked at the base. The plant inside slumped, half-buried in the spilled dirt. A sad sight, but not as sad as me trying to woo Gracie.
“You’ve had a rough night too,” I told the plant, pressing its roots back into the soil with my thick fingers. My brow knotted. What did humans do when wild plants got hurt? A little water, maybe. But I didn’t have any. Still, I sat the pot upright in case Gracie asked about her poor plant later. Maybe she’d appreciate the effort I’d made.
Her window stayed frustratingly still. No Gracie. No curious face appearing to look down at me with happy tears in her eyes—something Dungar said she’d probably do.
However, I wasn’t about to give up. Not yet.
“Gee-tar or not, she’s worth more than anything,” I whispered even though my ribs ached like I’d been kicked by a sorhox. I adjusted the strap across my shoulder and picked a steady rhythm across the strings, careful not to create something that might scare away living things this time—humans, sorhoxes, or nearby chumble chicks. “And often is heard…a discouraging word, and?—”
Wait. Why would I want her to tell me discouraging words? This song sucked.
Or I sucked at remembering the words to the song.
“Gracie,” I crooned again, softer this time. “You’re like…” I paused, unsure of what to say next. Pete had rattled off something about stars and flowers and other delicate things. He’d frowned gravely when I mentioned sorhoxes.
“You’re like ripe dasterberries. Sweet. And worth all the tangly brambles we must go through to get them.” I winced. By the fates, that probably sounded like I was calling her difficult. “What I mean is, uh, you’re worth it. Worth everything. A life with you, Gracie, would be more than what I dreamed of back in the orc kingdom caves.” A part of me liked the honesty of that more than anything Pete had suggested.
The curtains rustled and the window rose. I froze mid-strum, the strings humming against my fingers.
A head appeared in the window. Her head. Her hair was loose, tumbling down in soft waves like the stream we'd laid by while talking about clouds. Where she'd given me her body so sweetly.
She blinked down at me, her brows knitting together. I couldn’t tell if it was confusion, irritation, or something else entirely on her face. Probably confusion, considering the racket I’d made.
“Tark?” Her voice wasn’t sharp, but it wasn’t exactly warm either. “What are you doing?” She peered around and I swore a touch of panic crossed her face. “You haven’t seen anyone…taking pictures, have you?”
I frowned and shook my head.
She sagged against the frame. “Good. Maybe they won’t.”
Who?
I shook off the thought, focusing on what I needed to do to impress her.
Words didn’t come right away. My throat made a dry noise, and I looked down at the gee-tar like it might explain all this for me. It didn’t.
“I…” My fingers twitched on the strings. The note that rang out made both of us wince. “What am I doing?” I stiffened my spine. “Gracie, I’m wooing you.”
Her mouth opened, then she shut it again. Was that a good sign? Probably not. I glanced at the toppled pot, then back up at her.
“Like Dungar suggested,” I mumbled, shifting awkwardly. “With songs. And, uh, soft words.”
Gracie tilted her head, and in the moonlight, I thought I saw the corner of her mouth twitch. Was she laughing? No, not quite. But her face wasn’t angry. Just tired. Or curious. Or both.
“Soft words?” she said, leaning forward on the windowsill. Her voice dipped low, teasing. “You mean the thing about slugs and brambles?”
Heat rushed to my ears, making them pound harder than when I’d faced that charging sorhox yesterday. My fingers scraped against the strings. “No. I mean— yes . But not just slugs. Or brambles. There were dasterberries. And… And stars.” That was true, wasn’t it? Stars sounded nice. “You’re like them. Bright. And hard to catch. But worth catching. Never doubt that.”
Her expression lightened. My chest didn’t hurt as much, even though I was still standing in the lot behind the hotel with a stupid instrument that didn’t want to cooperate. I rubbed the back of my neck, shifting from one foot to the other.
“Look,” I said, dropping my gaze to the gravel. It felt safer to talk to the ground than her shining eyes. “I’m not good at this. Words, music, serenades, or whatever humans do up here on the surface. But you mean a lot to me, Gracie. Really mean a lot. And if trying to turn this mess into a song and fumbling like a fool with this gee-tar under your window is the way I can show you I care, then I’ll do it. I’ll do it a hundred times, even if I scare off half the town’s cantaloupes or break this gee-tar in half.”
The silence that followed felt too thick. My stomach churned worse than the time Dungar dared me to drink fermented chumble milk. My fingers flexed along the neck of the gee-tar, and I snuck a glance up at her face.
She was smiling.
Not a big, laughing smile that humans sometimes did, but a small one. Warm and real, and it loosened every angle of her face. Her head tipped to the side, and the moonlight caught something shiny in her eyes. I wasn’t sure if it was tears or just the light, but either way, it made my heart twang in my chest.
“You’re sweet,” she said softly.
That didn’t seem bad. Not the way her voice wrapped around the word like it was something she might keep in her pocket, safe and close. I swallowed the lump in my throat, not entirely sure what to say back. So, I didn’t say anything. I stood there, holding Pete's unforgiving gee-tar away from my body like it might attack me.
Gracie rested her chin on her crossed arms on the windowsill. “You didn't have to do this.”
To win her heart? I sure did. “I don’t want you thinking I don’t care. Or that I'm only interested in giving you more redness.”
“You're not?”
My ears heated again. “Not too much.”
“What if I want more redness?”
“You do?”
“I told you I did, didn't I?”
“I think so. See, I want it—and you—so much that my mind isn't always listening to what's going on. It's cleks away, forming the next lines of the conversation. I don’t know what I’m doing half the time, Gracie, but I can figure it out.” My voice lowered, getting croakier now. “I want to figure it out. With you.”
“That's it,” she said, straightening. “I'm coming down.”
To give me the discouraging word? By the fates, I hoped not.
“Wait for me?” she asked, and I could do nothing less than nod.
And get rid of the gee-tar. If she insisted, I'd strap it on again, but singing wasn't a me-thing, and I hoped she'd understand.
I placed the gee-tar gently against the wall, like it might explode if I moved wrong. It had already caused enough damage tonight. My fingers twitched, itching to do something. Adjust my belt, smooth my hair—anything to keep from standing there like a lump. Light footsteps sounded inside the hotel, faint at first but growing stronger. Each step felt like it was stomping across my chest. It was crushing but freeing at the same time.
The back door creaked open, and there she was, standing in the glow of the doorway like a dream I hoped I never woke up from. Moonlight tangled with the indoor light, weaving across her dark hair, her skin, her every bit of her body. Her hair swayed as if the night breeze itself knew it had to move gently around her. She rubbed her arms, and I hated that she might be cold, but I couldn’t find my voice to offer my vest.
“You’re just standing there,” she said. The warmth in her voice soothed something jagged inside me.
“I wasn’t sure if…” My words stumbled, falling apart before I could push them out. “I wasn’t sure if you want me to go to you or wait here.”
She took a step closer, her bare feet whispering on the walkway. “Come closer. You’re not going to scare me off.”
I took a step. Then another. My boots scuffed the ground as I closed the space between us. I didn’t trust my arms not to grab her too fast or hold too tight. Instead, I stuffed my hands into my pockets, my fingers big enough to fill the entire space. “I didn’t know if you liked this kind of thing. Songs. Words. I mean, I was told humans enjoyed these sorts of gestures. Orcs don’t. If an orc female is interested in a male, they challenge him to battle. I don't think you're going to attack me with a sword, however.”
“I'm not.”
“This feels strange to me. But I want to do what makes you happy, even if it flips me inside out.”
Gracie tipped her head up, searching my face for something. Her eyes gleamed like the pools back home where the water ran so clear you could see forever.
“You don’t have to pretend to be human for me. I don’t need a serenade or sweet words. I just need you. With all your clumsy, honest attempts to show me what you feel. That's all that really matters.”