4. Guruk
4
Guruk
“Sammy,” I said, awe turning her name into a solemn vow. I didn’t know to who—or what—I was promising, but I couldn’t deny the sincerity in it. The little human had fallen into my life; according to the skul-gargoyle, literally appearing from thin air. And although I knew almost nothing about her, she had somehow captured my world in her small hands. Was this what the orc elders called a fate bond ?
Before I could ponder the likelihood of an orc forming such a connection with another species, Sammy began to talk in her sleep again.
“Mako, where are you?” She twisted and turned beside me. She’d been calling for different names as the hours had ticked by and the storm passed. I’d drifted in and out, but the need to watch over the tiny human was palpable. At present, she cried, “Abby? Robin?”
My hand drifted to her cheek of its own accord. The green hue of my skin contrasted starkly against her rich tan coloring. “I’m here, little one.”
Her eyes opened at last, clear of pain, and treating me to the lovely warmth in their brown depths. She blinked once, twice. Then, she reached toward me, pinching the skin of my forearm between her thumb and forefinger. The pressure she exerted was minimal, but she squeaked, “You are real!”
I chuckled at her exclamation.
Sammy frowned. Faster than I’d imagine for a human, she rolled from the bed. Her hip knocked the nightstand, then she backed into the curtains, nearly pulling them down atop her. “What the—?” She swatted at the offending fabric, serving only to tangle herself beneath it.
The barking laugh that rolled forth and had me doubled over. My chest ached from the depths of my mirth. I’d never seen a more hilarious sight than this tiny human twisting her delicate frame into knots beneath my grandmother’s ruby curtains.
“Hey, don’t just stand there, you goober!” She punched at the fabric, making bumps in it with her fists. “Help me out of here.”
“Hold on.” While the scene was comical, I didn’t desire to have to explain to my grandmother why her hand-sewn antique curtains had tears in them. “Stop moving, I’ll get you free.”
“This is ridiculous.” Sammy humphed as her foot tangled further. “Is this part of a security system or something?”
I snorted. “Hardly.”
Circling around the bed, I grasped the top of the curtain—well clear of Sammy’s head—and yanked. The fabric loosened and freed its captive. She stumbled two steps, her body colliding into mine. I snaked my arm around her back to steady her. With her breasts planted against my abs and the top of her head at my collarbone, I could smell her sweet scent—a mixture of jasmine and rose. I inhaled as if appreciating a fine ale.
“Are you…,” she whispered. Then, she cleared her throat and began again louder, “Are you purring?”
Was I? I slid my hand up her tunic to cup the back of her head. She shivered as my fingers trailed over her spine. With her face resting against my chest, I felt the vibrations too. By the ancestors, I was purring. With that disorienting thought, I let her go and bumped against the side of the bed. All my senses tipped askew, my world tilting on its axis. And I went with it, falling flat on my back onto the mattress.
Sammy stood upright, her brown eyes going wide, before she raised a hand to her mouth and snickered. I glowered at her, and her soft giggles turned to full belly laughs. A mischievous glee sparkled in her eyes that set them firing like coals in the flames. I couldn’t restrain my smile when she pointed at me and said, “Serves you right for laughing at me earlier.”
I sat upright, my height still too great to put us at eye level. Scratching the back of my neck, I conceded, “Fair enough.”
“Yeah, well. We can call it even.” She stuck out her small hand as if waiting for something. “Now, let’s have an official introduction.”
I mirrored her movements, unsure of what she wanted me to do. “You wish a warrior’s clasp?” I asked, wondering if she wished to grasp forearms. It was an ancient custom, typically used amongst warriors to check each other for weapons while demonstrating mutual respect. I hadn’t seen it done in quite sometime, not since the villages made a pact and peace reigned over the realm.
“A warrior’s…,” she stared at our hands both hanging mid-air, “I was thinking a handshake, but that’ll work too.” Grinning, she grabbed my forearm with her slender fingers not reaching even halfway around my muscle. “Whoa,” she said as I matched her, wrapping my much larger hand around her delicate forearm. “That’s…”
“An honor to meet you, Sammy,” I filled in as she didn’t seem likely to finish her sentence. “Welcome to my home.”
“Oh, uh.” A soft pink hue rose to her cheeks. “Thank you. It’s nice to meet you too.”
“Are you feeling better?” I released her arm with reluctance, enjoying the feel of her beneath my hand.
“Much better. The pain is gone actually.” Touching her forehead, she tapped her fingers along the smooth surface as if testing for injury. “But I’m a little worried. It was weird.” She stretched her arms, emphasizing a great distance between her hands. “Like worst pain I’ve ever felt. Not normal, you know?”
“Do you think it had something to do with the storm?” I treaded carefully, recalling the deputy’s claim about her appearing from thin air. “Or something else?”
Popping a fist under her jaw and furrowing her brow, she said, “Maybe. The storm was definitely freaky.”
“Freaky?” I pondered what she could mean.
“Yeah,” she motioned with animated movements, flapping her arms, “like thunder and lightning from every angle. It messed up our game, big time.”
“You mentioned a game before.” I waved at the doorway, hoping to get the story of where she was from and how she ended up on my farm. “Would you tell me about it over breakfast?”
Sammy tugged on her hair, a telltale nervous tactic if I ever saw one. “Umm…”
I truly hoped she wasn’t planning on lying to me. It would make it a lot harder to convince the sheriff’s officer of her innocence. If she is innocent, I thought, waiting for her to answer. I didn’t want to think ill of her, but I had to protect Inara at all costs. I needed to remain impartial and clearheaded, no matter how beautiful this little human was—or how she affected me.
“Are you not hungry?” I prompted, giving her an easy answer for her reluctance.
Worrying her lip, her teeth nibbled on the bottom. It gave me a clear view of her tiny pink tongue.
I groaned at the sight. Impartial, clearheaded. One thing to say, another to do.
“It’s not that.” She squirmed in place, shuffling from foot to foot. “It’s just… well…” Her deep exhale, reverberated through me as if touching my soul. “Oh this is silly. Do you have a bathroom?”
“Oh!” The guilt about suspecting her clogged my throat. I managed to point at the oaken door to the right of the bed, and croaked, “Over there.”
“Thanks.” She shot me that beautiful, radiant smile that I didn’t deserve.
As she disappeared through the bathroom door, I clenched my jaw. I was the alicorn’s protector, I had to keep on guard around this human. She was a stranger with unknown intentions. Even if she was the most beguiling being I’d yet to encounter.
I shook my head at my foolishness and headed down the short hall. I’d built my home for utility, not aesthetic. My grandmother, the matriarch of the family, often grumbled over my lack of design and my place “needing a female’s touch”. She did not, however, complain about one area—the kitchen.
The countertops, polished pine that had seen years of use, housed a bowl of fresh strawberries from my garden. A deep-set sink rested below the window that framed the trees outside and allowed morning light from its eastern direction. To its left, my old cast-iron stove sat at the ready. It had been a gift from my grandfather, passed down through generations of orc males that had cooked countless meals for their mates. “A male’s love is shown in his actions, my boy,” my grandfather had said upon gifting it to me. “Never forget that providing requires more than strength. It is finesse and care too.”
I smiled, remembering his sage advice and appreciating the well-worn iron burners.
Above the stove, a simple range hood helped keep the air fresh, while pots and pans hung within easy reach. Cooking wasn’t quite an innate ability of mine, but I did enjoy trying my hand at different recipes. Sometimes I burned or undercooked a meal. Other times, I produced a half decent result, if my mother’s opinion was to be trusted. She tended to be a bit bias regarding her only son at times.
Still, breakfast I could handle, and the chance to provide for this little human set my senses tingling. “What would a human eat?” The villagers had a variety of different species living together in harmony, but humans were rare. I racked my memory. “Let’s see…” Elves preferred mild fair while orcs enjoyed hardy, robust food. Dragons, like my friend Thad, loved spicy flavors while fae preferred sweets and gargoyles favored savory. Sifting through my ice chest and cupboard of spices, I debated on the matter. “Her blunt teeth means nothing too chewy.”
I snapped my fingers, locating the eggs I’d garnered in town and the loaf of bread, Baxter, the village’s most excellent minotaur baker and cafe owner, had baked fresh just yesterday. “Now, all I need is…” I pilfered the bacon at the back of the ice chest. “Perfect!”
Skillet in hand, bowl at the ready, I got to cracking and cooking. The scent of the bacon filled the air with its rich smokiness. While the bread warmed, I whipped the eggs, adding a touch of cream to create a fluffy texture. Once the bacon crisped, I set it aside and used the flavorful fat to scramble the eggs. I sprinkled a pinch of salt and crushed herbs over them for added flavor.
Once everything was ready, I piled the crispy bacon and sunny yellow eggs onto two plates. To finish, I toasted thick slices of the warmed rustic bread over the flames, slathering them with homemade butter just as they turned golden.
With the breakfast set, I arranged a plate in front of the stool across from me. I hadn’t bothered with a table when I didn’t often entertain and took my meals at the counter. Pouring a glass of water and another of juice, produced from the apple trees opposite my field, I began to boil water for tea. I wanted Sammy to have as many options as possible and debated on chopping a fresh salad as well, when her footsteps halted my fussing.
The morning sunlight streaming from the window bathed her in a golden light. She’d tied her hair up, allowing the pink strands of her undercut to be seen along with the darker hues on top. Her skin glowed like one of the fae after a long flight, alight with vibrancy. Her brown eyes sparkled with a warmth that felt like home. In those eyes, I saw a world of unspoken stories. I wanted nothing more than to unravel the mystery of this little human and understand the silent bond that even now drew me to her.
Walking around the counter to where she stood, I pulled out the stool for her and placed a hand at the small of her back to help her up. “Please, sit and eat.”
The way she looked at the plate of food set before her and then up at me, as if I had presented her with a sacred gift instead of simply breakfast, undid me.
“Ah…” Her eyes sparkled, filling with unshed tears. “Thank you.”
Before I did something insane, like kiss her until those tears turned to moans of pleasure, I tucked in her stool and escaped to the opposite side of the counter.
Although we shared breakfast, my hunger had nothing to do with food. And I knew in that instant, I was utterly and truly cooked.