“Don’t you dare!” Sammi yells.
I ignore her and approach the side of the river. When I attempt to pull her away from me to hold over the river, she suddenly latches onto me, her arms clinging to my neck. I grunt and try to pull her free without hurting her, but she is a stubborn female.
“Sammi, let go,” I snarl.
“Not on your life,” she says, her voice cracking as she wraps her legs firmly around my hips. My cock goes from half-mast to full interest when her cunt drags up against it with that one move. Her eyes glint at me with a promise of retribution, one that I choose to ignore.
Instead, I am fighting her off me. The harder I try to gently remove her, the tighter she clings. I am only vaguely aware of Ethiel trotting around us with delight.
That is until I take one step in the wrong direction while I struggle with Sammi at the same time that Ethiel weaves toward us. That is all it takes to finally knock me completely off balance. Sammi shrieks and I let out a startled bellow as we both fall forward into the river with a loud splash.
I stand in the shallow thigh-deep river, water sluicing down my body. The braids of my hair lay limp and wet against my skin and cling as assuredly as my soaked clothing. Sammi stands beside me, her arms crossed over her breasts shivering in the cold water. I give her a disgusted look and begin to make way back to shore when I see my laundry starting to float down the river. At some point, I must’ve kicked the damn basket over when I was struggling with the human hellion.
Wading through the water, I begin snatching up my clothing, my thoughts as dark as my temper. I berate myself for bringing home such a creature, yet when I look to the side, I am surprised to see Sammi, her long wet hair trailing down her back, beside me gathering up my clothes.
Cursing under my breath, I haul the wet clothes to the bank and gather the soap and washboard. Ethiel is sitting on the bank watching us, his whiskers quivering in what I understand to be amusement. Damn beast. I strip off my breeches and hang them on a tree branch to dry before returning to her. She looks at me with wide eyes as I crook my finger at her.
Sammi approaches, clearly hesitating, and I sigh.
“It is necessary you learn how to do this.”
She doesn’t look convinced, and from the set of her jaw, she is determined not to learn.
I firmly turn her in my arms until her back is to me, and I begin the long and arduous task of teaching her how to wash the clothing. She stiffens her arms stubbornly at first, but when I do not relent, she finally cooperates as I hold her hands firmly under mine, showing her the motions to wash clothing on the washboard.
We are at it for hours, washing, rinsing, ringing the clothes, and setting them over branches to dry.
“Very good,” I grunt. “Next time you will be able to do this yourself.”
She throws a wet cloth over a branch and with a groan.
“What if I don’t want to learn? Did you ever consider that? I come from a place that has dishwashers, and washing machines, that has cell reception and wi-fi. It’s like I am stuck in the Dark Ages here!” she laments.
I raise an eyebrow at her as she collapses to the ground. “Are you finished?”
She slowly raises her head to glare at me. Good. Let her be angry. I would rather her be angry and learn how to care for herself in spite of me more than anything else. Being soft with her will not force her to learn basic skills anyone needs to know to survive here.
“You can’t return, female. As soon as you accept that, the better it will be for you. The mountains are hard and none of my kind will approach human settlements. If I even tried to return you exactly where I found you, if I can even remember the exact location where I found you, you would be left to freeze and starve in the wilderness, vulnerable to predators. Is this what you want for yourself?”
Sammi glares and looks away. I know then that she recognizes that I speak sense, she just doesn’t like it. Too bad. It is her reality now and it isn’t about to change to suit her. She is among orcs now. Even though she is a human, if she doesn’t want to be a pet, she will have to learn to be an orc. No one in the village will treat her gently in consideration of humanity. I treat her far more so than any other of my kind would, in fact.
When the clothes are finally dry, I pull them down, fold them, and set them in the basket. She silently helps me without a word of complaint, still shivering because the weather is too damp and chilly for her to be out here without any other clothes. I frown at this since I do not wish her to get sick, but if I make any demands, I know she will fight me all the way. Never before have I met any being who could come close to being able to out-stubborn an orc. Even our elven cousins would rather give in and try some clever manipulation rather than continue to battle wills with our kind.
Part of me can’t help but admire that about her.
***
Sammi
Orgath is watching me quietly, and he looks concerned. I’m sure he notices the way I’m shivering. I just can’t seem to get warm, even though I wasn’t terribly cold when we left the house.
Despite the few patches of lingering snow, unlike home, spring is well on its way here. I have worn little in far colder temperatures. It has to be pushing fifty degrees at least. However, now that I’m wet, I wish I had those simple scraps of fur he’d sewn for me so I wouldn’t be standing here with my ass hanging out freezing. The air isn’t that cold, just a slight springtime chill far warmer than even May in my hometown, but a dunk in the icy river pushed me past my limit. I want to curse the orc, but I really couldn’t fault him entirely.
I don’t want to learn how to wash laundry, or do any of the cleaning and cooking he is going to expect of me, but I can’t completely deny that I need to be able to learn how to get along in this world if what he says is true. The chances of me ever getting home are getting slimmer by the minute. However, that doesn’t mean I have to make it easy on him. On either of us, truthfully.
I push a soaked mass of hair out of my face and frown at Orgath.
“Wasn’t there some other work you needed to do today?”
He shrugs, unconcerned. “I had intended to weed the garden while you were washing the clothes, but I suppose you can help me with that tomorrow.”
I wrinkle my nose. Gardening… yay. Not. My grandmother and mother both tried to get me interested in gardening to no avail. I like pretty flowers. A nice houseplant or a bouquet will light up my day, but the idea of being outside in the dirt, with the bugs and spiders… No. Absolutely not.
“Yeah… gardening’s not my thing.”
Orgath chuckles, a rough sound that makes my skin tingle. “I suspect you don’t care for much of anything that does not include indulging in your whimsy and comforts.”
I scowl at the back of his head as he gathers our things. He really makes that sound like a bad thing. “Look, I don’t know how things are for your people, but where I’m from, gardening is a hobby that people only do if they want to. We have machines to do things like wash our dishes and our laundry. We have devices that entertain us.”
“And these things make you happy, keep you healthy, and protect you?”
“Of course,” I say loftily and try to ignore the doubtful click he makes in response.
“If that is the case then why did I come across you, lost in the mountains?”
I have no answer for him.
“You never did answer my question either about who this Travis person is that means so much to you.”
I pick at a small tear in my fingernail. “He’s no one now. He was just a mistake, and for just one stupid moment while I was sleeping, I forgot all that he did. But he’s the reason I was in the mountains. He never met me there like we’d planned. He abandoned me with almost no provisions and I got snowed in before I could leave.”
I shake my head and, to my gratitude and surprise, Orgath is silent. His big gray delfass is trailing after us sedately. Now that I’ve had a chance to get used to him, I like Ethiel. Despite the hor
ns on his face, he’s very much like a giant housecat. Except Ethiel seems more intelligent and also happens to be the size of a horse.
When we arrive at the cottage, Orgath commands Ethiel to lie down and keep guard near the gate, but I am appalled. Didn’t orcs ever hear of responsible pet ownership?
“You can’t mean that,” I say in horror.
He looks confused. “Mean what?”
“You can’t just leave Ethiel out here in the cold night air.”
Now he gives me that familiar sigh that I have started to interpret as his simple exhaustion even dealing with my presence. “Ethiel is not a pet, delfass-ki. He is a delfass, and their kind belong outside. He has always been outdoors. He has known nothing else.”
“How inhumane! The poor thing. He’s never been indoors at all? That needs to change. The cottage is plenty big enough for him to sleep by the hearth at least at night.”
“Female…”
“I am so not budging on this, orc,” I growl.
Eventually, I do get my way. Orgath stalks away to his room, muttering about crazy females, and leaves me to figure out how to get Ethiel inside on my own. I try calling to him as I would a kitty, but he just paces in front of the door in confusion. A bit of cream and some dried meat end up doing the trick. It is just enough to lure Ethiel in through the doorframe into the nice bed I made for him.
The large cat curls up, a tattered ear flicking toward me, and he closes his big yellow eyes. I beam down at him, feeling particularly smug over my victory when I hear Orgath shout from the bedroom.
“Are you coming or not, female? You can sleep with Ethiel if you like, but you may be more comfortable in here with me if you can keep your hands to yourself this time.”
I flush. That beast of an orc. Well, I’m never one to back down from a challenge.
“I’m coming,” I call out sweetly.
I gently stroke Ethiel’s long soft ears, delighting in the purr that rumbles out from his chest, before I finally go to join Orgath in his bed.
Chapter 5
Orgath
I wake up to an empty bed. Sammi crawled into bed with me last night, even if she did sleep as far on the edge of the bed as she could get. That didn’t make much sense to me since I made sure to wear a loose pair of breeches to bed for both of our sakes, but I left it alone.
At some point during the night, I awoke and found the female curled up against me, her breath fanning my chest. In the dark, I could easily make out the contrast of her pink soft flesh against my gray hide. I had admired it briefly before falling back to sleep. In truth, I’d slept better than I remember sleeping in a long time.
I’d expected to wake up with her soft body still pressed up against me, not alone. I am surprised that I find this a bit irritating. Where is she?
I roll off the bed, pushing the loose strands of my dark hair back with an impatient hand, and stretch. My right hand comes down to absently scratch at an itch, an old scar that still often plagues me despite being healed for years now. It is then that I hear a loud clatter come from the common room, followed by a muffled feminine curse. Curious, I wander out in search of my little human.
The stench of burned egg and bread assaults my nose immediately, as does the plume of black smoke rising from my good iron pan. The female is by the hearth, clad in the leathers I made for her and holding whatever monstrous concoction is currently assaulting my senses and my good pan. I traded one of my best furs to the metalsmith for that! My eyes immediately begin to burn from the acrid fumes.
“What in the names of the gods and all the ancestors are you doing, female?” I roar, rushing to her side.
Sammi’s eyes widen in surprise, and she immediately drops the hot pan, which has the unforeseen consequence of promptly landing on my foot. Hot pain shoots through my hapless appendage and I reflexively kick the pan away before it can do more damage. Grabbing my foot, I heat up the room with the most profane curses I know. Sammi’s eyes are getting wider and wider with every foul word shouted to any god or spirit listening. When they start to film over with a watery sheen is when dread begins to settle in my gut.
No. No. Please not that. Please don’t—
“I am so sorry!” she wails, and tears begin to rapidly stream down her flushed cheeks. “I didn’t mean to. I was just trying to make some breakfast for us. I thought it wouldn’t be too difficult. I went and fought the chickens for the few eggs I could find, and I saw the leftover bread and butter in the cupboard. I’ve seen my mom make this a hundred times. How hard is it to fry bread with a bit of egg cooked in the center of it? I wanted to show you that I’m not completely helpless. It was supposed to be… a… a… surpriiiise,” she cries, by increments becoming shriller.
At a loss, I pat her shoulder awkwardly.
“It is not so bad,” I shamelessly lie. “Maybe something can be salvaged.” Nothing edible remains in the charred mess. “I am sure your mother would be proud of your effort.” Maybe?
She cries harder. “You are such a fucking liar! Even my brothers can cook a simple meal over a freaking campfire, and my mother has been a restaurant chef for over twenty years. I can’t even boil water without burning the pan,” she sobs.
That is… dreadful.
“Many, I am certain, can’t cook,” I say, trying to cheer her. “Why, there is a good many orcs I have known who wouldn’t fare better than you.” A blatant, harmless lie. Every orc, male or female, is taught in their youth how to cook, mend, and hunt.
Her sobs show no signs of stopping and now her nose is running as she blubbers, and her eyes are red and puffy. It isn’t particularly attractive, but strangely, it makes me want to pull her close rather than push her away.
“I’m not cut out for this life, no matter how hard I try,” she cries. “I miss my family. I miss my home. I miss Chinese takeout and Netflix. I miss indoor plumbing and refrigeration. I miss my life. Why didn’t you just leave me to dieeee?”
It sounds to me like she misses a lot of comforts and conveniences, but I can sympathize with her missing her family.
“It gets easier,” I soothe. “I can’t do much for the things that make life easier for humans, but I will teach you how to survive and take care of you—I swear it. Yes, it hurts to miss your family but take comfort from the fact that they live and keep you in their hearts. I have no remaining family. My father and all three of my siblings were killed in battle when my cousin, the current chieftain, took over the clan. I am the only survivor from my unfortunate family, and all to be an outcast.”
She blinks up at me then, her small fist brushing away her tears as she sniffs. “You must think I’m awful carrying on this way.”
I grunt. “It is natural to miss what you have lost. You learn to move on with your life.”
I scrape out the pan and take stock of what supplies are remaining. There is no more bread, and I am out of flour. I will have to go to the village today.
“Are there any eggs left?” I ask gently.
“No, that was all of them,” she mutters, cleaning splatters off the floor.
I sigh. If we want to eat, we are going to have to go to the village even sooner.
I grab a spare fur cloak and pull out her boots from where I’d stashed them, handing both to her. Her eyebrows arch in surprise.
“Are we going somewhere?”
I nod sharply. “We need to go get supplies. It is a short trip to the village. We will eat at the tavern and then go to market.”
“Go to market? Like a grocery store?” she asks, her eyes brightening with interest. The last words, like many others she often says when speaking of Ov’Ge, do not translate. All these strange words are beginning to give me a headache.
“I do not know what you are speaking of. A market is a series of stalls from vendors marketing their wares, and farmers come with grains, fruits, livestock, and many other food staples.”
“Oh,” she says and falls silent.
I go into my room, pull on clean breeches an
d a tunic, and quickly plait my hair. With basic grooming accomplished, I dig out a heavy metal brooch from my trunk that once belonged to my mother. That will serve to secure her cape. The ruby eye in the curved bronze dragon winks at me from the sunlight coming through the open shutters of the window. Curling my fingers around it, I go back into the common room. Sammi has the fur-lined cape and is trying to figure out how to put it on.
I chuckle and pluck it from her fingers. In one deft movement, I turn the cloak the right way and wrap it firmly around her, pinning the two ends in place at one shoulder. She looks down, admiring the dragon brooch, her fingers skimming along the curve of its metal body. My cock stirs at the sight. It is too easy to imagine that it is my cock that her fingers are caressing.
Impatient with these uncontrollable urges, I turn away from her and root through a basket by the door to find a worn hood that will fit well enough on her small head. She needs to be warm while we travel, but I also don’t want to draw too much attention to her. The bright strands of her hair are sure to attract unwanted attention. Orcs haven’t seen humans in generations; I don’t want to find out the hard way what the consequence of a human in the village will be.
I look at her with a critical eye. Her pale face and neck clear of clan tattoos are certain to draw attention. With the hood and a bit of ochre pigment painted on her, we may get away with her looking half-orcish. I can probably pass her off as my half-orc, half-fae wife. I nod to myself. Yes, given how widely fae vary in size and appearance, that is the best way to go about it.
Sammi watches with interest as I pull out a small brush and then a tiny clay bowl, pouring a bit of water from the jug in the cupboard into it. I gesture to the stool.
“Sit, delfass-ki.”
She slides onto the stool and looks at me curiously. “What does that mean? It doesn’t make much sense when I hear it.”
I cock an eyebrow at her and smile. “It is not a common word in our language—that is probably why. It is an orcish pet name, essentially meaning littlest delfass.”
The Orc Wife Page 4