Chapter 011 A Gentle Giant
Thokk's words hung in the cool evening air outside the Red Fang Saloon, the swinging doors still creaking faintly behind us from where Krug had delivered the bad news. My hotel room flooded. No other rooms available. Nowhere to go except... his place. My pulse hadn't slowed since he'd said it, that simple offer carrying more weight than it should. One bedroom. Temporary roommates. The kind of setup that screamed bad idea for someone like me, who didn't do close quarters. Not anymore.
But exhaustion tugged at me, heavy and insistent after the long day of vandalism reports and that intense conversation about his mating mark. And beneath it all, something warmer. Safer. I glanced up at him, his broad frame silhouetted against the glowing saloon windows, those kind eyes steady on mine. "Okay," I said softly. "Lead the way."
He nodded, a small smile breaking through his usual composed expression. Then he tilted his head back and let out this wild whoop-whoop-whoop call, three sharp bursts that echoed down the boardwalk. I jumped, pressing myself flat against the saloon wall, heart slamming in my chest. "What the—"
A low rumble answered from the shadows across the street, growing into thunderous hoofbeats. Treelee burst into view, a massive sorhox the size of a minivan, her medium green hide gleaming under the lampposts. Curved horns swept back from her head, a spike-tipped tail swayed behind, and her three-clawed hooves dug into the dirt as she slowed to a stop. Fangs glinted in her open mouth, but her dark eyes were calm, almost curious.
"Cassidy, meet Treelee," Thokk said, his voice gentle as he stepped forward and laid a hand on her flank. She purred—a deep, vibrating rumble that I felt in my bones—and nudged his shoulder with her snout.
"She's... huge," I managed, still plastered to the wall. Sorhoxes were one thing from a distance, in pens or during patrols. Up close? Terrifying.
"She's sweet and won't hurt you." He stroked her neck, and she leaned into it, eyes half-closing. "I've raised her since she was a calf. Eight years now. Her mother was injured in a rockslide; I bottle-fed her through the nights."
I swallowed, extending a trembling hand. Treelee's head swung toward me, nostrils flaring as she sniffed. Then her tongue swept across my palm in a long, careful lick, warm and slightly rough. She nuzzled my chest with her snout in a surprisingly delicate way, and I let out a shaky laugh, the tension easing from my shoulders. "Okay. Hi, Treelee."
"Ready?" Thokk asked, his hands already on my waist.
Before I could overthink it, he lifted me effortlessly onto her back, settling me in front of the saddle-like ridge behind her shoulders. Then he swung up behind me, his massive body pressing close. One arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me back against his chest, the other taking the reins. Treelee shifted beneath us, and I gripped her hide, feeling the solid muscle under soft skin.
We started down Main Street at a gentle trot, the boardwalk lights fading behind us. His thighs bracketed mine, heat radiating through his pants, and God—there it was. The thick, unmistakable outline of his cock, long and substantial, pressed against my ass as Treelee's motion rocked us together. His arm tightened around my waist, steadying me as we navigated a small rise onto the road past the ranch houses. I bit my lip, heat flooding my cheeks—and lower. Embarrassed arousal twisted in my gut, vivid thoughts flashing unbidden: what it would feel like if he didn't stop at steadying me. If he pulled me closer.
The ride was short, but every sway amplified the contact, his breath warm on my neck. By the time we slowed on a gravel driveway, my skin tingled, hyperaware of every inch where we touched.
"Welcome to my home," Thokk said as Treelee halted beside a neat two-story house with white siding and black shutters. A large deck wrapped around the back, overlooking a view of dark forest and jagged mountains. Nearby stood a red gambrel barn, plain and functional toward the trees. His brothers' ranch houses dotted the area, lights twinkling in windows where I imagined their mates waiting.
He dismounted first, hands on my hips to help me down. My legs wobbled a bit—adrenaline, or maybe something else. "It's beautiful," I said, taking it in. Cozy yet sturdy, like everything in Dusty Gulch.
Inside was even better. Spotlessly clean, meticulously organized. Oversized furniture dominated the living room: a massive couch, armchairs built for orc frames. Built-in bookshelves lined one wall, filled with neatly arranged volumes—law enforcement manuals stacked beside poetry collections. No TV cluttered the space, just a tablet on a charging stand for streaming.
"You weren't kidding about the neatness," I murmured, running a finger along a shelf. Dust-free.
"Chaos has no place here." He smiled faintly. "Bathroom's this way." He led me down a short hall to a space with human-sized fixtures—sink, toilet, shower—all reachable without stooping, plus shelves stocked with towels and a washer/dryer combo. "Start your laundry. It'll be dry by morning."
My soaked clothes from the flood. Practical. Thoughtful. My chest warmed.
"Bedroom's upstairs." The room was dominated by an enormous custom bed, easily king-sized for two orcs, piled with fresh linens from a nearby closet. "You take the bed. I'll manage the couch."
"Thokk—"
"It's no trouble." His tone brooked no argument, but his eyes lingered on me, soft.
My laundry tumbled in the dryer as he showed me the rest: kitchen with labeled cabinets, a small office nook. Everywhere, order. Safety. I felt my walls cracking, just a little. The mating mark he'd shown me earlier replayed in my mind—not horrifying, like I'd feared. Intriguing. Pulling me toward him in ways I couldn't deny.
An hour later, we were on the back deck under a wide umbrella, oversized chairs creaking as we settled with plates of grilled burgers. The air smelled of charred meat and mountain pine, stars pricking the deepening sky. Treelee grazed nearby, her tail swishing contentedly.
Thokk had cooked simply—juicy burgers with fixings, buns toasted just right. I took a bite, moaning a little at the flavor. "This is incredible. You grill like a pro."
"Practice." He watched me eat, tusks glinting in the lantern light. "My brothers and their mates live close by. Family dinners most nights."
I glanced toward the ranch houses, lights warm in the dusk. A life like that—steady, surrounded by people who cared. My heart lurched. "Your attention to detail is one of my favorite things about you," I said, meeting his gaze. "I've never felt this safe with anyone before."
His fork paused. "You're safe with me, Cassidy. Always."
The words hit like a promise, wrapping around the raw spots inside me. We talked easily—about the vandalism, Treelee's quirks, his poetry shelf (turns out Garn inspired it). Laughter came naturally, the domestic rhythm feeling... right. Like slipping into a rhythm I'd been missing without knowing it.
Dinner done, we cleared the deck and headed to the kitchen. He washed, I dried, our arms brushing in the small space. Backs bumped as we reached for the same towel. Silent sync, comfortable. My skin hummed from the proximity, thoughts drifting to the bed upstairs. To him on the couch, too far away.
Dishes stacked neatly, he dried his hands. "I'll let you get settled."
I caught his arm as he turned. "Thokk."
He paused, looking down at me, those dark eyes intense.
"We could share the bed."
The words tumbled out, vulnerable but sure. His breath hitched, chest rising sharply. Tension crackled, thick and electric, but he didn't move. Didn't push.
"Cassidy..."
"It's huge. And I... I want you close." Heat flooded my face, but I held his gaze. Falling for him—this meticulous, protective orc. The mating bond humming under my skin, not scary anymore. Right.
Slowly, he nodded, a genuine smile softening his features. "If that's what you want."
"It is."
We climbed the stairs together, the weight of the invitation settling warm between us. Whatever came next—talks about marks, vandals, my past—it started here. In his bed. Safe.