Chapter 2 #2
My jaw clenched. Fuck. I should’ve known better than to engage. Kardok had a nose for weakness, a wicked reputation, and a propensity for mocking males who weren’t as successful with charming human females. And right now, my preoccupation with Sofia was the biggest chink in my armor.
I shifted my weight, the duffel strap biting into my shoulder. “It’s nothing.”
Kardok snorted. “Right. And I’m the next captain of the Teal Terrors.”
Lila rolled her eyes at him before turning back to me, her expression softer. “You know, if you ever want to talk—”
“He doesn’t,” Kardok interrupted, pressing a kiss to her temple. “He’s too busy brooding in silence. That’s what Dakvaar does.”
I ignored him, focusing on Lila instead. She was human, yes, but she’d grown up in this town, had been raised with wealth and privilege. If anyone knew what might make a little girl smile…
“Lila,” I said, cutting off whatever Kardok was about to add. “When you were young, what did you like? As a child.”
She blinked, clearly caught off guard by the abrupt change in subject. “Me? Um…” A small smile played at her lips. “Ponies. Unicorns. Princess dresses. The usual.”
Kardok barked a laugh. “She had a stable of toy horses. Her father nearly built her a real one.”
Lila swatted at him. “I was five.”
I exhaled, rubbing the back of my neck. A pony. Right. Because of course Lila Fairbanks, owner of the Bramblewood Ice Complex, had grown up with ponies.
If Rosa were mine, and she wanted a pony, I would get her one. The Terrors paid me well enough, and a part of me could understand Lila’s father’s attempts to make his precious daughter happy.
But Rosa wasn’t mine. And I wasn’t about to show up at the Sunrise Café with a damn horse.
Kardok’s grin faltered as he studied my face. “Wait. Why are you asking about little girls’ toys?”
I stiffened. “Just curious.”
“Bullshit.” He crossed his arms. “You’re not the ‘just curious’ type. Who’s the kid?”
My fingers twitched against the strap of my bag. I couldn’t explain it—not to him, not to anyone. Not when I barely understood it myself. Not when the thought of Sofia belonging to another male still gnawed at me.
Lila, thankfully, seemed to sense my discomfort. She elbowed Kardok in the ribs. “Stop badgering him.” To me, she said, “If you’re looking for a gift, art supplies are always a safe bet. Crayons, colored pencils, sketchbooks.”
Art supplies.
Something loosened in my chest. I could draw. Not well, not like the artists whose work hung in the galleries downtown, but I’d discovered a knack for it since coming to the human world. Sketching helped quiet my mind when my Kteer got too loud.
“There’s a stationery store on Main Street,” Lila continued, warming to the topic. “The Inkwell—it’s got a great selection. They even have those fancy markers that don’t bleed through the paper.”
Kardok’s eyes narrowed. “You’re actually buying a gift for a kid?”
I didn’t answer him. Instead, I nodded at Lila. “Thank you. That’s… helpful.”
She smiled, but Kardok wasn’t done. “Hold on. Is this for a niece? A cousin? Do you have brothers with kitlings?” I began to back away, and Kardok all but chased after me. “Do you even have relatives here?”
My grip tightened on the duffel. “Goodnight, Kardok.”
Lila laughed, tugging on his arm. “Come on, you big oaf. Let’s go home before you scare him off for good.”
Kardok let her pull him away, but not before calling over his shoulder, “You can’t hide forever, Dakvaar!”
I didn’t watch them leave. Instead, I turned toward the parking lot, my boots crunching on the salt-strewn pavement. The cold bit at my exposed skin, but I barely felt it.
The Inkwell was a small, warm shop, shelves lined with colorful pens and smooth paper. I could buy Rosa some supplies. Perhaps I could draw with her?
My Kteer rumbled in approval, the first sense of rightness I’d felt all day.
I adjusted my bag and headed for my car.
First, the store. Then, tomorrow…
Tomorrow, I’d see Sofia again.
I slept fitfully Wednesday evening, but that was how I’d been sleeping these last few weeks, as the Mating Bond made itself known.
I shouldn’t be surprised. By three in the morning, I had almost convinced myself that it was unhealthy to continue tormenting myself by seeing Sofia each morning, and I should stay away.
But by sunrise, I knew I couldn’t.
Besides, today I was going to see Rosa.
So when I entered the café, I nodded my greetings to Sofia and the older server who always smiled at me, but instead of sitting in my usual booth, I took a place at the counter, one stool down from Rosa, and placed the bag from The Inkwell on the seat between us.
To my gratification, the kitling looked away from the video on the phone in front of her, almost eager for a distraction. I told myself that was a good thing.
I pretended to peruse the menu, allowing her to study me from under her lashes.
Up close, she looked even more like Sofia; dark hair, darker skin than most humans in Bramblebluff, big dark eyes and a wide mouth that dimpled when she pursed her lips in an adorable approximation of her mother’s thinking expression.
She smelled of curiosity and boredom.
When Sofia bustled up, Rosa brightened. “Mama, could I have some sausage?”
Instead of brushing her off, my Mate dropped a kiss on the dark hair, which was pulled back in two small tails on either side of her little head. “I think we could make that happen.” She turned a smile my way. “And what’s going on with you? Just decided to switch things up a little?”
Grateful that she’d given me an excuse to turn toward Rosa, I angled myself so both the females could see me easily. “Yes,” I agreed solemnly. “Sitting at the counter allows the breeze from the door to cool me whenever someone enters.”
“Breeze?” Sofia laughed. “It’s not even going to get up to twenty today, and you call that a breeze?” She poked her daughter playfully. “I think orcs have a different definition of cold, what do you think?”
As Rosa nodded, wide-eyed, I reached for the menu and murmured, “Orc biology is different in many ways; we have faster metabolisms.”
“If we had faster metabolisms, we wouldn’t have to pay so much for heat, huh, mija?” Sofia nudged her daughter, still smirking at me.
The kitling giggled and nodded eagerly at me. “My mebbalism means I need sausages.”
My lips curled in surprise at this declaration, and Sofia burst out laughing, a smile so real I wondered how anyone could think the grin she gave her customers was anything but a mask.
“Sausage for Rosa, coffee for you, Dakvaar.” She reached out to take my menu. “Did you want something other than your usual?”
I shook my head, my Kteer singing to see those plump lips shape my name. “I’m looking forward to the skillet. Add a side of sausage to my order, for your daughter.”
Sofia’s real smile was my reward, and as she bustled off, I knew I’d do anything to receive that reward again.
With her mother gone, Rosa continued to watch me with interest, so I nodded politely. “Hello, little one. My name is Dakvaar.”
To my surprise, the kitling bristled. “I’m not little! I’m five! That’s this many!”
She held up two plump little fingers, and to my surprise, I had to tamp down the urge to smile again.
“I can see you are growing up quickly,” I acknowledged with a solemn nod. “But you are little to me.”
“That’s because you’re huge,” she pouted.
“Yes, I am.” I was large even among orc males; that’s why I played defense on the ice, and why my teammates called me The Wall. “I brought something for you.”
“A present? For me?” she squealed.
I distracted myself by pulling the art supplies from the nice bag from The Inkwell, laying them on the counter between us. “I don’t know if you like to color, Rosa, but I do.”
“You like to color?” the little girl gasped, reaching for the box of crayons. “I do too! What’s your favorite?”
“Red,” I announced, picking a color at random.
As I pulled out sheets of paper for us, Rosa opened the brand-new box of crayons, her little fingers making a mess of the packaging in her eagerness. She pulled out the red crayon and presented it proudly to me.
I nodded my solemn thanks and reached for it, allowing my claws to grow enough to pinch the tiny cylinder of wax. Instead of shying away from this display of otherness, Rosa leaned in, giggling, studying the way I had to carefully hold the crayon as I tried to draw…
I was not successful, and the crayon snapped in two.
Rather than crying, as I was afraid she might, the kitling merely continued her laughter, holding up the two broken pieces. “See? You’re too huge to color!”
“Nothing is impossible; we all need different tools.” I pulled out the set of large markers I’d made certain to buy. “These suit me better.”
By the time I uncapped the marker and begun to draw a cartoony dog, Rosa was perched on the stool beside me, draped over my arm, watching with satisfaction.
Rosa’s little fingers dug through the crayon box, her dark eyes alight with excitement. “Can we make it blue?” she asked, pointing at the dog I’d drawn. “Blue like the sky!”
I nodded solemnly as I passed her the paper. “Blue it is.”
She attacked the paper with the enthusiasm only a child could muster, her tongue peeking between her lips as she concentrated.
I wondered if her mother looked like that when she was intent on something.
When my Kteer purred at the thought, I pushed the thought away, forcing myself to focus on the next sketch.
“What’s that?” Rosa demanded, squinting at my attempt at a fish.