Trick or Orc

by S. J. Sanders

  My heart thrums hard in my chest, and my hands feel sweaty around the rein straps they hold. A cozy event inside the cottage? An intimate family party, no less? I had no idea when I offered that was the way of things, but now I couldn’t be happier. I don’t quite trust my voice when I give a quick nod, my grin wide as I beam down at the female beside me.

  I know that I can’t get too comfortable with this family, but I can’t deny that I look forward to the evening that they have planned and will draw out every bit of pleasure that I can from it.

  Chapter 9

  Garval

  I look at the large pumpkin set before me in dismay. Well, not so much at, but inside at the goopy strings congealed within it. I’ve made my share of pumpkin soups and breads, but my family is matter of fact about dealing with such things, chopping the pumpkin up and stripping off the excess as we go. But I’m to put my hand down inside the cavern I just made at the top when I carved off its lid and my stomach flips.

  At my side, Nora leans in, her eyes wide as she takes in the same sight.

  “That’s a lot,” she whispers.

  I nod because I have nothing I can add to that observation. It is a lot… of everything. Even the milky seeds look like eyeballs peeking out from the goo. I don’t consider myself anything near squeamish. I’ve been a warrior too long to feel faint at the sight of anything that resembles body parts or gore. But this mess that I’m going to intentionally stick my hand into and pull out is another matter entirely.

  “Is everything okay over there?” Kassie grins impishly at me from where she sits in front of her own modest-sized pumpkin, her arm buried almost to the elbow.

  I eye the orange slime that coats her arm as she cheerfully scoops out a large pile of muck before letting it slide off her spoon and plop into the large bowl beside her. I’m similarly armed with a spoon and bowl, but I can feel my saliva thickening in my mouth. Mostly because at her side I can see Chris, laughing maniacally as he pulls out long strings of goop with his fingers and wiggles the digits around in a horrifying display.

  I swallow and try to shake off the feeling. I’m a warrior, not a youngling.

  “Fine. We shall have the most terrifying pumpkin in the village,” I announce bravely, despite the fact that I am still avoiding submerging my hand into the guts of the gourd.

  My female smirks, something knowing in her gaze as she scoops out another large mound, and I barely hold back my shudder. At my side, Nora emits a tiny, shrill squeal of pleasure at my words. Because of that, and my overwhelming desire to prove myself to Kassie, I grab ahold of the spoon, bearing it before me like a weapon as I peer down inside.

  With Nora’s encouraging gaze on me, I drop my hand inside. The guts are cold and as slimy as they looked, making my skin crawl. I drag my spoon up, but as I do its contents slip and move, sliding over my hand and wrist. I try to flick it away, my hand still caught inside the opening. In my struggle, I lose my hold on the spoon, and the strings catch around my fingers as more of the innards tangle around my hand in my vain attempt to pull it free.

  I jerk back, a bellow instinctively rising in my throat. I feel something catching under my claws so that when I stumble away the pumpkin tips over and comes right at me as my fingers instinctively open, trying to shake it off. A helpless roar escapes me as I trip on the edge of the chair behind me, sending me crashing to the floor. A sharp pain lances my skull, but thankfully an orc’s head is hard. I’m more embarrassed and now covered in pumpkin innards that are currently seeping out from around my hand across my chest.

  A small, sweet face appears above me, Nora’s wide eyes as she stares down at me as she is joined by Chris.

  “Holy sh—” Chris begins.

  “Chris, language,” Kassie warns as she rushes over, her concerned face joining her children. “Are you okay?”

  Slowly, I sit up and curl my fingers so I can pull my hand out of the pumpkin. My stomach lurches dangerously as piles of slime come out with it. Setting the pumpkin, which somehow remained intact and undamaged, down beside me, I grimace at the mess. Not only am I coated in innards, but there is a trail of goop that followed my path from the table.

  “I’m fine,” I assure them once again, heat rushing into my face. “I’m afraid that this is a new experience for me. I did not expect…”

  Kassie’s soft chuckle interrupts my embarrassed rambling, but when I look at her there is no mockery in her eyes. Instead, her blue eyes are warm and sympathetic.

  “Trust me, I don’t think anyone enjoys this part of the process. Except maybe Chris,” she amends with an exasperated look at her ghoulishly smiling offspring as she steps away to grab my bowl.

  “Nah, it’s all in how you see it. It’s a lot more fun if you can put some sort of creepy spin to it,” Chris says, his smile widening. “Just pretend you’re scooping out the brains of your foe.”

  Somehow, I don’t see his solution as being any better. We don’t scoop out brains on a battlefield. In fact, generally I prefer if heads remain attached to their corpses if I can help it. Of course, of all my brethren, I have decidedly less bloodlust and a weaker stomach when it comes to more gruesome things. I refrain from pointing that out, however, since I don’t want Kassie’s offspring to have a lesser opinion of me. Instead, my attention is captured once again by Kassie’s sweet perfume washing over me as she returns to my side.

  Kneeling beside me, she reaches out and brushes her hand over mine, scraping the worst of the mess into it. I watch, my belly warming, flustered at the touch of her small soft hand. When she stands and hands me a damp towel, I smile my thanks, wiping my hand the rest of the way clean before standing again.

  Kassie’s plush, kissable lips curve, and I’m only just able to resist pulling her into my arms where she belongs.

  “Are you up for trying again?” she asks.

  My mind is so focused on kissing her that for a moment I’m confused until I remember the pumpkin still sitting beside my feet. I give the gourd a scowl but bend down and scoop it up in my arms to carry it back over to the table.

  Setting it down, I roll my shoulders as I stare down at the gourd, unwilling to admit defeat.

  “I’ve never been vanquished in battle yet,” I inform her. “I’m not going to let a simple gourd get the better of me. I was caught off-guard, but now, I think I can manage.”

  I’m lying through my teeth, but I refuse to admit to being squeamish of something so ridiculous. I’m certain, however, now that I’ve experienced it, I can at least control my reaction to it a little better. I’m certainly not going to embarrass myself again in front of Kassie or either of the younglings.

  Nora squeezes in at my side. “I know you can do it,” she encourages me in a soft voice, her expression solemn. “We’re going to have the best jack-o’-lantern ever.”

  I nod stoically as I squint down at the pumpkin. My chest expands as I draw in a deep breath, preparing myself for the unpleasantness that lies ahead.

  “If it helps, try to angle the spoon a bit so you’re more scraping it off the sides instead of just tackling the middle,” Kassie suggests, and I am instantly grateful for the advice.

  Reaching inside, I grip the handle of the fallen spoon. It slides a bit in my grasp, slippery from the mess it has sunken into, but I don’t let that distract me from my purpose. Dragging the spoon to the side, I make a wide sweep with the large spoon, keeping my pressure light enough to not damage the shell of the gourd since that would defeat this entire process. My stomach still lurches at the cold stringy innards brushing my hand, but this time I manage to ignore it.

  When the first spoonful comes up, Nora greets it with a little cheer that makes me smile. I then follow it with another scoop, and then another. Each spoonful gradually comes easier, and before long the pumpkin is thoroughly scraped. Chris and Kassie have finished quicker, but they both watch and cheer as this last spoonful, with nothing more than few stray strands and a couple of seeds, is deposited in the bowl. Even Matty watches w
ith a curious expression from where he peeks over the enclosure of his play area.

  “Okay, the hard part is done,” Kassie says, a playful grin tugging at her lips. “Now for the fun stuff. Let’s get carving.”

  I stare down at the dull little blade she hands out. It has a serrated edge, but it doesn’t look like it can cut through anything very successfully. Worst, my grip on the tiny handle is less than ideal. Are they really using these to carve them?

  Out of the corner of my eye, I observe that Chris is leaning over his pumpkin, his tongue caught between his teeth as he saws away. Surprisingly, it seems he is managing just fine. A good thing too, I am guessing, given his relative inexperience still with handling sharp blades. Across from me, Kassie is making similar progress with her own gourd. I don’t understand why she doesn’t use a real knife, but I snort to myself, setting the tiny blade down to pull out my blade from its sheath at my side.

  Nora’s eyes round at the sight of it, but she focuses on the pumpkin as she points out a spot.

  “Give the pumpkin an eye here,” she directs.

  I’m all too happy to comply. I struggled a bit with the cleaning of the pumpkin, but I’m certain that this part is where I’ll excel and am ridiculously eager to prove myself now.

  Angling my blade, I apply pressure but am horrified when the blade sinks in much faster than expected. Chopping gourds has never been particularly difficult, but I’ve significantly underestimated how fast my knife would cleave into the shell. My blade leaves a wide gash, and I grimace as I attempt to fix it, carving out an arc below and above the gash into an eye shape.

  Chris peers over his pumpkin at mine, his eyes widening. “Dude, that’s one hel… heck of an eye! Are you doing a cyclops?”

  My stomach drops with the certainty that I’ve messed this up again.

  “We are, and I like it,” Nora counters with a crow, her expression gleeful as she smirks over at him. Looking up at me, she gives a beaming smile and gives my hand a pat. “We’re going to have the scariest pumpkin. Much better than you’ve got, lame-o,” she taunts over her shoulder at her brother.

  Although such rivalry is normal among orclings, I’m uncertain how much Kassie encourages or tolerates. I give her a questioning glance, but she merely rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

  “No calling names, Nora,” she chides gently as she stands and stretches.

  Matty whines a bit from his play area, so she walks back to the cooking area to fetch some sort of chewy bar for him that she hands through the barrier. He immediately pops the end of it into his mouth and starts slobbering on it, his two visible teeth on the bottom gnawing away at it.

  “Okay, now a little triangle nose here,” Nora advises, pointing to an area just below the eye. “About this big.” She places her fingers at a specified distance apart from each other, and I nod.

  I squint down at the pumpkin, concern bubbling in my gut, and trade my larger blade for the dull knife Kassie gave me initially, silently admitting that, despite how it seems, it is clearly the better tool for the work. It still fits awkwardly in my hand, but I’m surprised to see that my control is better than I expected as I cut out the nose to her specifications. After that comes a leering mouth with a jagged, toothy smile since, as she tells me, cyclops eat people.

  I’m pretty certain that this information is incorrect, but I shrug and do as I’m told and before long the cruelly smiling face is backlit by a small candle that Kassie sets within it before I’m told to carry it outside and set it on the stoop. Chris’s and Kassie’s pumpkins join it at either side of it. Chris’s is just as damaged looking as he promised. He actually cracked the bulging side a bit so that some of the light shines out of the wound. Kassie’s jack-o’-lantern has the sweetest smiling face, one that cheers my heart just looking at it.

  This would be a mate full of warmth and love, with smiles and cheerfulness that I’ve come to covet for my own after so much time around Bodi and his mate. I didn’t realize how much I wanted it until now. And I know that not any human woman will do.

  I want this female. Oh, how I want Kassie for my own. I’m a bigger fool than I expected, wanting exactly the one female I can’t have.

  Chapter 10

  Kassie

  As the next several days go by after our pumpkin adventure, I find that I’m looking forward to the Goblin Ball more and more. My initial anxiety over going with a date has mellowed into a warm sort of thrill for what’s waiting just around the corner.

  Unfortunately, I think I’m the only one of the two of us who sees it as anything of the sort, and I try to hide my dismay. Even though he walks with me to his mother’s house every day when I go pick up Matty, that’s the most personal interaction I’ve gotten with him since. My subconscious hasn’t gotten the clue, though. Ever since Garval joined us for our pumpkin carving, I’ve caught myself fantasizing about him more than is appropriate for a male who’s never given me any cause to believe he feels the same.

  I mean, how can I not? He’s warm and gentle with the kids, treats me respectfully, and has a sinfully hot body that I caught a glimpse of when he stripped off his shirt on his way out, his green muscles flexing in the faint light pouring out of my cottage. Part of me wished he had done so inside where I could have gotten a better look, but seeing how we were still playing with pumpkins I understood why he kept it on. Regardless, that image has fueled my dreams and left me in a state of perpetual arousal.

  Since I haven’t gotten laid in well over a year, it’s reassuring to know that my libido is still quite healthy. I’m also not the least bit ashamed of the fact that I would happily find an excuse to hop into bed with him if he shows some interest. I’m pretty sure that Lynn would be a willing babysitter for a good cause—and oh boy, would this be a good cause.

  I side eye him as he pulls out a batch of cupcakes, the scent of chocolate and vanilla filling the air. Cupcakes are my weakness, and I would almost think he’s teasing me if it weren’t for the fact that they were flying out the door. All the customers admire his festive decorating skills, especially now that the first wave of tourists has begun to arrive.

  I hear an appreciative feminine sigh, and I glance over at the low doors to see a customer standing there. She cranes her neck, watching Garval as he bends over the table to pipe frosting out over a batch of cupcakes that are already cool. She fans her hand, and says something I don’t catch to one of the girls with her.

  “I wouldn’t mind skipping the cupcake and just tasting him,” the other responds with a giggle.

  Garval turns his head, his brow furrowing as he looks over at his admiring audience. His expression is flat, looking neither pleased nor bothered. He just gives them a nod and returns to his work while I scowl at the meat I’m chopping.

  I admit that I’m a little annoyed that he didn’t do anything to discourage the interest, which just makes me more irritated at myself because I know I’ve got no claim on him. I feel old and fat compared to the slender twenty-somethings eyeballing him like a tasty snack.

  I’m grateful when Lynn’s voice rises to corral her customers.

  “Ladies, this is a café, not a burlesque show,” she snaps. “If you’re done ogling my baker, you can trot over and make your order.”

  Although she snickers a bit, one of the girls immediately disappears. The other one lingers, rolling her eyes at the command. Instead, she inches a bit closer to the door with a smile.

  “Hey, big guy!” she calls over.

  Garval, having just finished a swirl of orange icing, looks up, his brows arching. “You need help with something?”

  Her grin widens flirtatiously, and she nods. “As a matter of fact, I do. I was wondering if you were free to show a girl around the village this evening?”

  My jaw nearly drops on the order I’m preparing, and I only just manage to whisk it off the burner in time to keep it from burning. I can feel my cheeks flushing as a small growl gets lodged in my throat. I swallow it back miserably. Just because I d
on’t have that kind of confidence doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with hers. That I’m feeling threatened at all is all on me.

  My little talk to myself doesn’t help all that much, but it does at least keep me from going over the doors at her.

  “My apologies, but I’m not available. I have other plans,” Garval replies, his deep rumbly voice as mellow and approachable as ever. He even smiles a bit at her when she starts to pout.

  Ugh. Cutesy pouting? Just kill me now.

  Then my heart sinks. He has other plans? I guess another tourist already got to him. Now that I think of it, he did seem to be in a particularly good mood when Lynn and I came in this morning.

  “Hey, blondie, order or vamoose!” Lynn shouts impatiently.

  The girl huffs a sigh. “Fine. Hey, hot stuff, if you change your mind, I’m at the Red Apple Inn. Just ask for Stacy.”

  Garval grunts and nods but otherwise doesn’t look up from what he’s doing. The blonde pouts again, this time far less attractively, and scoots away to place her order. Good call before I felt like acting on the impulse to chuck my knife at her head.

  I wouldn’t have actually done it. Maybe.

  I’m still debating the matter as I get the rest of the food out. After that debacle, I’m just glad that it’s the end of the day. I don’t know how many more flirty tourists I have in me to tolerate. After the door chimes with the last of our customers leaving, Lynn glances over to mouth “I’m sorry” before taking her leave. I wave her off because we both know that can’t be helped, and I focus on cleaning.

  Garval clears his throat as he works, drawing my eyes to him. He meets my gaze and raises an eyebrow. His lips pinch together slightly, making his tusks stand out all the more as he regards me thoughtfully before turning his attention back to his work.