Chapter 3 #2
Thurlee stared at me for several long seconds, her fierce expression gradually softening into something resembling genuine respect.
"You can actually make a soft biscuit?" she asked, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper.
"I can make biscuits that melt on your tongue," I promised.A broad, genuine smile broke across Thurlee's face, revealing two neat ivory tusks that gleamed against her olive skin.
She reached out and clapped my shoulder with enough force to rattle my teeth, her dark eyes sparkling with sudden warmth.
"You teach me that secret, little human, and I will personally ensure these unruly brutes treat you like a queen. "
"We have a deal," I said, laughing as I rubbed the spot where her heavy hand had landed.
"Excellent." Thurlee nodded firmly and turned back toward the kitchen, wiping flour from her palms onto her apron. "I approve of this one, Ripplan. Do not let your sour ass chase her off before breakfast."
Ripplan made a low, strangled rumble in his chest that sounded like a cross between a cough and a growl. He shifted his weight by the entryway, clearly irritated by how quickly his aunt had accepted me into the fold.
Heavy footsteps echoed from the wide hallway to our left, and another Orc walked into the great room.
He was slightly shorter than Ripplan but built with the same formidable width across his chest and shoulders.
He wore a crisp charcoal button-down shirt tucked into dark denim, and his glossy black hair was pulled back into an immaculate ponytail at the nape of his neck.
His features were handsome in a refined, patrician way, framed by an easy smile that carried none of the raw edge radiating from the male standing near the door.
"You must be Tammy," the newcomer said, closing the distance between us with smooth, confident strides. "I am Brylan. It is wonderful to finally meet you in person."
"The pleasure is mine, Brylan," I said, offering my hand. His grip was remarkably gentle for someone who could likely snap a timber post in half, showing complete control over his strength. "Thank you for giving me this chance."
"We are the ones who should be thanking you," Brylan replied smoothly, casting an amused glance toward the entryway. "Did you encounter any trouble navigating the mountain road?"
"She managed to high-center her chassis twice on the gravel switchbacks," Ripplan supplied flatly from the corner. "Just as I predicted."
"And yet she arrived in one piece without a scratch on her," Brylan countered, his warm eyes dancing with quiet humor.
Ripplan grunted, crossing his massive arms over his chest as he stared out the front window at the darkening pasture.
Brylan gestured toward the seating area arranged around the stone hearth. "Please, make yourself comfortable. We should review a few logistics before you settle in for the night."
I walked over and sat on the leather sofa, sinking into the deep cushions while Brylan took the armchair across from me. Ripplan remained standing against the timber wall, a silent, imposing shadow who tracked my every movement with unsettling intensity.
"Ripplan radioed ahead," Brylan began, his expression sobering as he rested his forearms on his knees. "He mentioned you had an uncomfortable encounter with Craig Broussard at the pharmacy."
"He made his feelings regarding your family exceptionally clear," I replied, keeping my posture straight and my voice strictly professional.
"The Broussard family has held political and economic sway in this county since the mining boom in the late eighteen hundreds," Brylan explained, his tone measured and calm.
"They view our legal purchase of this valley as an invasion, and actively look for reasons to stir up resentment among the human population in town. "
"He brought up the young hand who died," I said softly, watching the flicker of the hearth fire. "Seth."
A heavy silence settled over the room, and Brylan's jaw hardened with quiet sorrow.
"Seth suffered a severe gore wound to his lower abdomen during a branding accident in the north paddock.
We rushed him to the local clinic within the hour.
The town physician, who happens to be Craig's first cousin, was heavily intoxicated.
He dismissed the trauma as superficial, handed our hands a bottle of mild pain relief tablets, and refused to perform basic surgical irrigation.
We did what we could but sepsis took hold two days later, the infection had spread too far for us to stop it. "
"Craig is using that tragedy to paint your family as negligent," I noted, feeling a familiar anger stir in my chest.
"The town council looks for any excuse to paint us as uncivilized beasts," Brylan said, a sharp note of steel ringing beneath his quiet words. "I share this because you must understand the environment you are entering. Many people in this valley believe we should have remained underground."
My thoughts drifted back to North Carolina, to the bitter prejudice that had erupted when the Appalachian clans first walked into the light.
I remembered the fear in the streets of Franklin, the political maneuvering, and the horrific attempt by a corrupt hospital administrator to poison an entire settlement.
Yet through all that darkness, I had also witnessed incredible loyalty.
I had watched human women build deep, joyous lives with Orc warriors who cherished them with fierce devotion.
"I understand better than you might think," I said quietly, meeting Brylan's gaze.
"I lived in Franklin when the mountain clans breached the surface.
I saw the fear and the cruelty firsthand, but I also saw remarkable courage.
I watched human women find profound happiness with Orc mates who protected and treasured them.
" I turned my head slightly, looking straight at Ripplan against the wall. "I think Orcs are exceptional people."
Ripplan stared back at me for a long, quiet second, his gaze dark with cynical disbelief. Then, with deliberate, crushing disdain, he rolled his eyes toward the cedar ceiling beams, making his contempt abundantly clear.
Heat rushed up my neck, burning my cheeks with sudden embarrassment.
I had fled across half the country to escape Arlo's suffocating control, harboring a quiet, desperate hope that I might find the kind of steadfast devotion my friends had discovered. I had taken a massive leap into the unknown, and the first warrior I encountered thought I was an absolute fraud.
"Franklin was all over the national news for months," Brylan remarked, smoothly stepping into the silence before the tension could swallow the room.
"The federal investigations and court hearings were unprecedented.
Whatever became of the businessman who orchestrated the attack on the settlement? Alston Aldrich?"
I kept my facial muscles perfectly smooth, schooling my expression into innocent neutrality. "The authorities claim he vanished. Probably fled to some foreign country without extradition."
In truth, I knew with absolute certainty that Ruka and his warriors had dealt out permanent, sovereign justice long before the federal agents arrived. Orcs protected their families with lethal finality, and knowing that only made me respect them more.
Brylan studied my face for a moment, a faint, knowing glint in his eye suggesting he understood everything I chose not to say aloud.
"Well," Brylan said as he rose to his feet. "You've had a long journey and you must be exhausted. Ripplan, escort Tammy down to the medical cottage and help her get settled."
Ripplan pushed away from the wall with fluid, quiet grace. "Follow me."
I followed him back out onto the covered timber porch into the crisp mountain air. The sky had deepened into rich shades of indigo and violet, and the sprawling ranch yard was bathed in the soft glow of solar lanterns mounted along the fence line.
Parked beside the horse barn was a heavy-duty side-by-side utility vehicle equipped with aggressive off-road tires, a steel roll cage, and a rear cargo bed.
"UTV," Ripplan said gruffly as he climbed into the driver's bucket seat. "The clinic sits half a mile down the southern trail from the main house. Brylan assigned this vehicle for your personal use. I'll have someone teach you how to drive it."
I rounded the front bumper toward the passenger side, resting one hand on the roll bar. "I am perfectly capable of operating one of these myself."
He glanced down at me, one dark brow arching with open skepticism. "Are you certain? This is not a car."
The persistent condescension in his tone made my teeth click together. "I know how to drive a utility vehicle. My former boyfriend owned a fleet of off-road toys, and I drove them through the Appalachian mud on a regular basis."
Ripplan went utterly still, his gaze locking onto my face with sudden, intense focus. "Your former boyfriend."
"Yes."
"You left him behind in North Carolina."
"Permanently," I replied, pulling the three-point safety harness across my chest until the metal buckle clicked.
Ripplan turned the ignition key, and the engine rumbled to life with a deep, mechanical growl that vibrated through the steel frame. "Good," he rumbled.
I blinked at his broad profile in the dim glow of the dashboard gauges.
The single word had rolled from his chest with a heavy, primal satisfaction that made my breath hitch.
He had treated me with cold disdain since the moment we met in the pharmacy, making it painfully obvious that he resented my presence on the ranch.
Why should my romantic history matter to him in the slightest?