Chapter 23
ENG
Ihated the bus. It smelled. It was noisy.
The seats were not sized for orcs and my knees were pressed against the back of the seat in front of me.
Sleep was impossible, although many of the team somehow managed it judging from how their loud snoring added to the rumble and rattle of this transportation death trap.
The shrew had not come to the stadium to see me leave.
Normally this wouldn’t have bothered me, but seeing Ozar’s mate there, hugging and kissing him made me feel the loss of someone, anyone, who would miss me.
It was ridiculous. We weren’t in the early stages of wooing.
The recent dates had been fun, and had made the sex afterward even better, but none of that was enough to expect the shrew to cling to me as I boarded the bus, telling me how much she would miss me and how she would count the minutes until she could be in my bed again.
Secretly, I found the idea of the shrew longing for me very appealing. And for the three hours we’d been driving down the paved roads, I’d thought of little else but her.
It was for the best that she hadn’t shown up.
Ozar was a mess after his mate had rejected his proposal right there in the parking lot of the stadium.
Not that any female would refuse an offer of marriage from me, but the whole spectacle in the parking lot had made me cringe.
Laughter should have been my reaction, but instead I’d actually felt sorry for the huge idiot sprawled on the pavement with a ring in his outstretched hand.
The shrew wouldn’t marry me.
She’d made very clear that first night we’d met that she wasn’t looking for anything beyond amazing sex, and I’d been happy to give that to her.
She hadn’t been what I was looking for. I wasn’t a good match for her either.
In the furs we were incredibly compatible, but great sex didn’t always make for a good marriage.
Still, I enjoyed her company outside of the bedroom as well as in the furs.
And increasingly when I thought of my future bride, I could only see her face.
Be honest. You’re not looking for another female.
You don’t want another female. The voice in my head made me wince, because it was right.
Ever since you put your hand-axe into the shrew, you haven’t wanted anyone else.
All the other orcs will have found their brides and gone home, and you will still be here, wooing the shrew.
She’ll eventually tire of you, leave you for the next interesting male she meets, and you will be left with no one.
I shook off the annoying voice riding my conscience and tried to think about how I might introduce the shrew to my father and mother.
She was attractive. She was intelligent.
She was most likely extremely fertile. She enjoyed travel and would be enthusiastic about visiting my kingdom.
And while she cared about her family and made a priority to spend time with them, that shouldn’t be an immediate problem.
There was no rush for me to get back, just a rush for me to marry and have orclets.
We could return to preside over important events, and spend much of our next few years at least here in Baltimore.
The female I’d been sent to marry was to be submissive, willing to do as I told her without argument or sullen pouting.
She should be able to entertain herself quietly in a distant part of the palace with activities that were suitable for the mother of royal children—hobbies like reading, sewing, flower arranging, or decorating her wing of the castle.
She should be willing to appear for balls and other affairs of state to stand decoratively and silent by my side.
Other than official occasions and breeding, we would not need to spend any time in each other’s company.
She could live her life as she pleased as long as she was meek and performed her duties.
Once we’d had three or four oraclets, I need not bother her anymore with physical attention.
This was what my parents had sent me to achieve.
This was what I’d been told I would do since I was a baby.
Marry appropriately. Bear offspring. Do whatever my father said and remain in the wings, a figurehead until I needed to wear the crown.
My father was healthy and strong, so it might be a decades or more until I was king.
Even if it were fifty years away, with fae spells and potions, my human bride would be there at my coronation ceremony and stand by my side as I ruled.
It sounded horrible.
I’d accepted this duty with a sort of numb resignation outside of a few ill-judged antics in my youth. Most orcs had the freedom to create the life they wanted, but I was not born to that. My future was mapped out from the womb, and I had learned there was no sense in trying to change it.
As the shrew would say: Fuck that shit.
Tightening my jaw, I pulled my phone from the pocket of my jacket, opening up the picture section. With a quick glance around the bus to make sure no one was looking, I swiped through the photos.
The shrew at one of our games, her head thrown back mid-laugh.
The shrew sleeping in her furs with her curls tucked into a silken cap, her lashes long and dark against her golden skin, her lips parted slightly as she slept.
The shrew walking away from me, the tall-heeled shoes she wore making her legs sinfully long and sculpted, the tight dress hugging every muscle of her strong body, her rear-end a mouth-watering, perfect globe.
The shrew with her arm around one of her friends, leaning forward to tell the other woman something, with a wicked smile curling her sexy lips.
The bus ride was long, noisy, and smelly with all of us crammed into the uncomfortable seats, but I managed to sleep enough that Ozar’s insane insistence we all work out only a few hours after arriving at our hotel didn’t annoy me as much as it usually would.
Instead of telling the other orc to fuck off, I actually went to the lobby with the others and participated in the exercise.
It was surprisingly enjoyable to run through this city, up and down steps and back to the busy streets.
The humans cheered us on, some following along and snapping pictures with their phones as we lifted benches and performed random feats of strength.
Normally I would hate being a spectacle, performing like I was part of a side show act, but while the humans were clearly entertained they treated us like… celebrities.
It was the longest day ever. We lost the game. I missed my hovel, my elderly friends, my favorite diner. And I missed my shrew. The next day I worked out with the team, and managed to find some time on the ice with no one watching to practice skating.
That night I could hear Ozar in the hotel bathroom talking to his mate over the phone and yanking on his hand-axe, I thought of my own female with her black curls, dark eyes, and golden skin.
I imagined curling up with her under the sheets and talking.
I imagined us having breakfast together, kissing her and tasting syrup and coffee on her lips.
I imagined tasting every inch of her, touching her smooth skin and her firm muscles.
I imagined being inside her and that ecstasy of not just pleasure, but of a warmth that felt like coming home.
I missed her. And I would count the days until I was back in Baltimore and in her arms once again.