Chapter 10 #2
“A what?”
“When an orc finds their fated mate, a mark appears. It’s permanent. Magical, I suppose, though we don’t fully understand how it works.”
Riley stared at the mark, her expression unreadable. “When did it appear?”
“Monday.”
I didn’t need to say it out loud; understanding dawned in her eyes. “The day I arrived.”
“Yes.”
“You’re not suggesting…” She swallowed hard. “I can’t be your fated mate.”
“The mark doesn’t lie.” I pulled my sleeve back down, needing the barrier. “I want you to understand something. This doesn’t mean you’re obligated to feel anything for me. Orc mating bonds work differently than human courtship. I’ve watched lots of streaming images and—”
“Streaming images?”
My face overheated. “When I first arrived on the surface…” I sighed, wishing I hadn’t mentioned the term.
“We were all hopeful we could find mates here. Everyone deserves love. I started watching movies online and gave my brothers tips for how to woo a female, tips I learned from the movies that I originally called streaming images.”
She frowned. “You mean like taking a walk together or the guy singing while strumming a guitar below her bedroom window?”
My face only got hotter. “Yes. I soon realized now how archaic such practices are. Humans don’t woo each other like that any longer. They go to Broadway shows or art galleries or have dinner in a very nice restaurant. They don’t sing beneath windows.”
“I think that would be pretty sweet, though, don’t you?”
I used to.
But she thought that would be sweet? Maybe I needed to reconsider Wild West wooing techniques again.
“I just want you to know that you’re free to choose whatever makes you happy,” I said.
“What if I don’t know what that is?”
The vulnerability flashing across her face hit me square in the chest. “Then we figure it out together. No pressure, no expectations. Just…whatever feels right.”
She was quiet for a long moment, staring at the spot where my mark remained hidden beneath fabric. “Do I get a mark too?”
“Sometimes. Not always with human mates. The magic works differently for your species.”
“So you could be stuck with me forever, but I might not feel the same way?”
The pain in her voice made me reach for her hand lying on my desk, covering it with my own. “Riley, look at me.”
When she lifted her eyes to mine, I found uncertainty and something that looked like longing. I hoped it was longing.
“I would rather have one day of you choosing to be with me than a lifetime of you feeling trapped by magic you didn’t ask for,” I said. “The mark tells me I could one day love you. It doesn’t dictate how you need to feel.”
“What if my heart’s just as confused as the rest of me?”
“Then we take it slowly.”
A knock on the jail door interrupted us, and I reluctantly released her hand to answer it. Mary stood on the other side, a friendly smile creasing her weathered face.
“Dungar? Greel said you were looking for me? I have to clean the jail so I headed on over. Someone called in sick.”
“Riley? This is Mary Bustier, head of maintenance. Mary? Riley Smith is my new deputy.”
The two women shook hands.
“Go ahead and ask your questions.” She gestured to the back. “I’ll be working in the bathroom.”
“Of course.” I stepped aside, automatically cataloging details as she passed. Tall and lean, probably in her sixties, with long gray hair pulled back in a neat ponytail. She carried a professional cleaning tote she set down on the floor beside the entrance.
Riley described the incident today, asking if Mary had seen anything while working on the lampposts.
Mary poked her head out of the bathroom. “I don’t believe I did. I’m sorry this keeps happening. Kids these days.”
“You’re aware of the other incidents?” I kept my tone casual.
She blinked a moment before her face smoothed. “Everyone’s talking about it. There hasn’t been any crime here since I took this job in Lonesome Creek. I hope you find out who’s messing with our pretty town soon.”
“So do we,” I said.
Mary got back to work.
“I should head out,” Riley said, glancing at the clock.
Where had the time gone?
“Me too.” I turned to Mary. “Could you close the door when you leave? It’s already locked.”
“Will do.”
As Mary started spritzing the windows and wiping them with a dust-free cloth, I walked with Riley toward the door. There, she paused, looking up at me with an expression I couldn’t read.
“The mating mark thing,” she said quietly. “Can we talk about it more tomorrow?”
“I’ll be happy to.”
“Good. Because I have about a hundred questions.”
Despite everything, I smiled. “I have detailed files on orc mating customs if that would help.”
“Of course you do.” Her answering smile came out soft and genuine. “Goodnight, Dungar.”
“Goodnight, breela.” The Orcish endearment slipped out before I could stop it.
Riley’s eyes widened. “What does that mean?”
“Sweetheart.”
Color rose in her cheeks, but she didn’t look upset. “I shouldn’t, but I like the sound of it.”
I walked her with her to the hotel, the old-fashioned lampposts casting warm pools of light on the wooden boardwalk. The evening air carried the scent of mountain pine and the distant sound of laughter from the Red Fang Saloon.
“This place really does feel like we stepped back in time,” Riley said. “Other than the sorhoxes and luminooks, that is.”
“We want it to feel that way. My brothers and I wanted to create something that felt authentic but safe. A place where families could experience adventure without real danger.”
“Mission accomplished. Today felt like the most excitement this town’s seen in months, and it was just graffiti.”
“You’d be surprised. Tark had to break up a heated argument about sorhox grooming techniques last week. They nearly came to blows over the proper way to clean clawed hooves.”
Riley laughed, the sound bright and musical. “I would’ve loved to see that.”
“Tark took notes afterward. He said it would make good material for his poetry.”
We’d reached the saloon, its windows glowing. I wanted to kiss Riley again, wanted to pull her close and tell her everything I was feeling, but the conversation about mating marks had left us both off-balance.
I stopped on the boardwalk in front of the red swinging doors. “I hope you sleep well, Riley.”
“You too.”
I waited until she disappeared inside before turning, my heart full of hope and uncertainty. Tomorrow we’d talk more about what the mating mark meant, about the feelings growing between us, and about whatever future we might find together.
Tonight, it was enough to know she wanted to have that conversation at all.
I was halfway down the boardwalk when Greel called out from the saloon doorway, his usually calm expression troubled.
“Dungar.” He jogged to catch up with me. “We have a problem.”
“What do you mean?”
“A water main broke in Riley’s room. It flooded the storage area below. The hotel’s full of tourists, and we don’t have anywhere to put Riley for the night.”
“Aunt Inla?” She had a spare room.
“Remember? She’s having her home redone.”
That was right.
I couldn’t think of any other place where she could stay except in the town a few cleks down the road, and I didn’t like the thought of her being alone with no one around to watch out for her.
She was afraid for a reason I hoped she’d soon share.
Until then, I felt better keeping an eye on her or knowing that one of my brothers was doing it for me.
My protective instincts flared. “Where is Riley now?”
“She’s trying to salvage what she can from her room. Most of her things are soaked.”
I was already turning back toward the hotel before he finished speaking, my mind racing through solutions. Riley needed somewhere safe to stay, and I would not let her spend the night on a lobby couch.
“There’s room at my place,” I said.
“You have one bedroom.” Greel raised an eyebrow.
Having Riley in my home, in my space, would test every bit of self-control I possessed. But the alternative of her being uncomfortable or unsafe wasn’t acceptable.
“We can make it work.”