How to Claim a Human Mate (Monstery Yours #6)

by S. J. Sanders

  And to my frustration, I feel nothing.

  I curse silently as we pass, keeping my eyes glued on the surprisingly smooth cobbled road in front of my feet. It’s been over five years ago since I felt even the curl of interest toward anyone since my ex managed to kill my libido with his demands over the course of our marriage. Why couldn’t it have been someone like that orc who gets my long silent engine revving once again? All untamed yumminess who can potentially be a match for the new life I’m trying to capture with my freedom.

  No, I lust after the fool in the tight breeches and extravagant tunics who thinks he’s in charge. I guess some things never really change.

  The menacing growl behind me, however, startles me. I turn back to see Bodi standing in a confrontational posture, his arms loose at his side as he exchanges a hard look with the shirtless orc who had, at some point turned toward me. My eyebrows shoot up as my assigned guard dog takes a step closer to me, his bulk hovering over me as he bares brutal tusks and impressively large fangs at the other male. To my horror, the stranger snarls in return, his large chest swelling up in what looks like a challenge.

  “Lynn?” Kassie frets at my side, her gaze swinging nervously back and forth between the two hostile males.

  “I’ll handle this,” I murmur and gently extricate myself from her so that I can stalk toward my new personal pain in the ass.

  Rushing over to Bodi’s side, I curl my hand on one massive bicep. My hand looks impossibly tiny against his muscle, but I sharply apply pressure as I tug insistently on him. It has little effect, other than making both males stop and tip their heads toward me quizzically.

  “Okay, boys, enough of this posturing,” I gripe as I pull on his arm with all of my strength. His large body shifts, but I know it’s more in response to my demands than any actual ability to budge him from where he stands. “I have too much to do today for this ridiculousness,” I clarify.

  To my surprise, Bodi backs up closer to me, his opposite hand engulfing my smaller one still clutched around his bicep, effectively trapping my hand against him as he warily retreats from the other orc. His body bristles with tension despite the smug smile curving his lips.

  “Don’t you have duties to return to, Fellek?” he growls, caging his larger body around mine as he glares at his apparent rival. “Outside of trying to tempt and pursue a guarded female?”

  The way he says that sounds laced with a lot more meaning than his words automatically convey to me. The translation magic that immediately weaves around those who pass through the portals makes his words easy enough to understand, but even it can’t convey subtleties that are clearly present.

  The other male wrinkles his nose and snorts, and gold-shot eyes turn toward me. He jerks his chin belligerently toward Bodi.

  “Do you wish for this male’s company?” he rasps.

  The question feels loaded, like once again I’m missing something, but I shrug nonchalantly. I mean, it’s not like I have much of a choice. In the scheme of things, however, I know that a non-answer is always better than giving an outright wrong answer.

  The male’s mouth tightens, even as Bodi’s smile grows wider and somehow all the more menacing. Finally, this Fellek guy snorts and rolls his shoulders before stepping back from us. The smile he gives me drips with masculine interest as he attempts to ignore Bodi stiffening at my side.

  “If you decide that you wish for another… protector, come find me. Ask anywhere in the square for Fellek and someone will point the way to me.”

  “Yeah, okay,” I mutter speculatively as I step back a pace and find myself unexpectedly herded farther away as Bodi turns and presses his body against me to create more distance.

  The other male curls his lip but turns to retrieve the crate he’d set down during the confrontation to lumber away with it.

  Kassie giggles nervously as I duck away from Bodi and pull her over beside me.

  She shakes her head. “That was…something else.”

  Bodi’s expression relaxes, and he straightens his tunic a bit as he gives Kassie a cheerful smile. “Do not concern yourself with Fellek. All orcs are decisive, so his actions are typical to what an unmated female might encounter wandering in our village without a guard. Part of the reason you have me.”

  There’s that word again… Guard. I squint at him, but his expression is deceptively calm as he looks around the market casually.

  “Is there something in particular you are interested in purchasing?” he asks.

  I suck in my lips as I regard him. Truthfully, I’m debating the most effective way of getting rid of him. I don’t object to the idea of having someone from the guard watching out for us, but just not him—not when he makes my body argue with my common sense. Then there’s that strange behavior between him and Fellek. It seems like a very dangerous combination, a distraction that I don’t need. In the end, any guard will do but him. So the question now is, how to discourage his interest?

  The idea comes to me while I watch his lips purse as he scans the chaos all around us. I know that look. It is the look of a man who wants to get in, get what’s required, and escape the bustling crowds. I bet he doesn’t even shop in the market but has someone come and take his measurements. The image that produces comes close to making me laugh, but I somehow manage to hold it in because he’s looking back at me, waiting for direction.

  The best way to get rid of him is simply to make this one long shopping adventure that he won’t soon forget.

  “Oh, a little of this and a little of that. I’m in no hurry. I want to see everything!” I enthuse, going more than a little over the top with my performance as I inject a bit of shrill excitement into my voice.

  He winces slightly, his expression turning wary as if bracing for the worst as he once again turns his attention to the crowd.

  “Very well,” he murmurs. “Perhaps we can start with these stalls over here.”

  He gestures to a nearby line of stalls filled with goods. I see some clothing that looks like it might be promising among them. My fingers itch to explore the fabrics, but I restrain myself. We will get to them… eventually.

  I sigh and shake my head, scanning the thong of customers clustered around the tavern that has clearly opened for lunch business. My stomach chooses that moment to growl as I catch the scent of stew on the air.

  “Actually, I think I would like to get a bite to eat first,” I suggest, pointing over to the tavern. “And then we can start with those stalls near it and just work our way around.”

  Bodi’s eyes widen as he looks in the direction I indicate, and I could almost laugh at the dismay that briefly settles over his face before he catches himself and gives me a perfunctory nod, a cheerful grin plastered on his face.

  Oh, boy, this is going to be fun.

  I silently snicker as our roles are reversed and I’m the one following him, his enormous body cutting through the crowd like a knife through butter as humans and other smaller species work to get out of his path. I have to admit that this part of having an orc around is useful. I could have used him last time I went to Mardi Gras, especially now that so many of the fae crowds have become passionate about the festivities making the festival three times more crowded than it’s ever been.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Kassie giving me a questioning glance, but I run a finger meaningfully over my smiling lips. Her eyes widen, and she slaps a hand over her mouth in attempt to keep from laughing. Subtle my dear friend is not, but thankfully our grimacing orc guide is paying very little attention as he attempts to lead us toward the tavern entrance.

  Chapter 7

  Bodi

  The tavern, despite its size, is crowded. Everywhere there is a press of bulky bodies. The leaner, brilliant green trolls with their purple hair stand out, as do the human-sized, deep emerald goblins amid the orcs laughing and talking within the large open room. Although many wear simple woven clothes, there is a riot of colorful tunics as cloaks and coats are cast off. The pair of cent
aurs near the entrance is the easiest to spot, one reddish brown and the other dappled. Their composures are stiff and wary with all the excitement around them—but that’s centaurs for you. The fauns are curiously absent, but there is a table where several wood nymphs are settled around a group of humans, likely feeling safer around those of similar size and stature as themselves.

  I can understand that. The tavern, The Ax and Mace, shows plenty of signs of conflict that comes from serving an orc clan. Worn rock walls are deeply scarred from seeing the impact of an ax, mace, or sword a time or two, and the little surviving wood in here has fared no better. Still, the atmosphere is boisterous and filled with a certain good cheer. Woven grain stalks hang from the walls to bring good luck and prosperity, and colorfully painted and carved dried gourds from the previous year are mounted on the walls between the large horns and antlers and more than one carved skull. It makes a for a festive atmosphere, and compared the cool air outdoors, the tavern verges on the edge of being overly warm from the crowd.

  Normally, I would love the bustling atmosphere, but with my female surrounded by so many males, a number of them not even trusted kin from my clan, it makes me uneasy. I’m struck by the memory of my cousin hiding his mate under a cloak and suddenly I understand that desire all too well. Although I have no reason to hide her, since humans are less of a rarity in Ov’Gorg, there is still that desire to hide her away from the interest of other males who might wish to pursue her. Even her small friend, Kassie, seems too vulnerable to have exposed in this place. Not during the harvest festival when the village is flooded with strange, unknown males.

  Nostrils flaring, my entire body stiff with tension, I lead the females toward the back, away from the rowdier activity closer to the bar. Some of my kinsmen look up as we pass, eyes bright with curiosity. I give them a subtle nod, walking as close to Lynn as she will allow. Her gaze threatens death when I brush too close, but it’s all worth it so that the males around me are aware that I’m guarding my female and so not to approach her. One of the males looks upon her a bit too curiously for longer than I like, but he immediately backs down when I bare my teeth at him, emphasizing the cruel curve of my tusks.

  I’m not the captain of the guard just because my cousin is the chieftain. I’ve proven myself in combat many times to earn the position, and the males of my clan know it well by the gold rings banding my tusks that demonstrate my rank and victories. They are awarded only to the strongest of orcs. Even those who have come from neighboring territories are smart enough to give me some berth.

  As we settle at our table, I scan the tavern for sign of my sister, Ehndera, or rather, Erra, as she prefers to be called. She often tends to the customers while her mate, Gavith, prepares the fare served here. Some might have expected their roles to be otherwise—except that anyone who knows my sister knows she can’t cook anything without burning it beyond recognition. Since her mate is a decent cook, their arrangement works best between them. The large opening that looks out from the cooking area is sizeable enough that her mate’s surly slate gray face can often be seen watching over her, promising death to anyone who acts inappropriately. It is laughable, since my sister is an accomplished fighter herself, but orc males are not known to be reasonable when it comes to guarding our mates.

  With my sister nowhere in sight, I wave down Ashglad, her oldest offspring. He trudges about with a bin, collecting used dishes from the tables, his mouth working as he grumbles to himself. At twenty, he still has the gangly look of a juvenile orc, but he will fill out soon enough. One of few orcs who have a rare ochre coloring and possessing long chestnut brown hair, he is very much like his mother, right down to his impatient glower when some of the customers get too raucous. His expression brightens, however, upon seeing me, and he hastens back to the kitchen with his load before making his way to our table.

  There are a few growls from patrons as Ashglad pushes his way through, but he seems to ignore them all easily and arrives at our table with an eager smile, showing adult tusks that are still oversized for his youthful face since they grew in two summers ago.

  “Ehndera here?” I ask.

  He shakes his head, his gaze cutting curiously to the females with me. “Nah, she had to go to the market to refresh supplies. She’ll be back later.” His smile turns mischievous. “I won’t tell her you called her that for a copper.”

  I snort and flick a coin to the male. Ashglad catches out of the air and pockets it with quick ease. Although I give him a relaxed grin, inwardly I’m relieved. If Erra had seen me with Lynn there would be no end to her curiosity. I would like to woo my mate without her annoying interference. As my womb-mate twin, she loves me fiercely but also enjoys watching me squirm more than I like. More than I would wish for my female to see.

  “We will take three bowls of stew with sides of elworsh bread and ales all around.”

  The red-haired female, Kassie, immediately shakes her head. “No ale for me, thanks.”

  She pats her rounded belly that protrudes shockingly from her curvy figure now that she’s removed her overcoat. I swallow a groan at my blunder. She’s whelping. I immediately feel like the worst sort of knave to have led the females on at such a quick pace earlier.

  “My apologies, I did not realize. I will mind my pace with far more care from here on out,” I sincerely promise, my hand reaching out toward her, palm up in show of penitence.

  Her eyebrows fly up, but she smiles shyly and nods.

  “That’s very sweet, isn’t it, Lynn?” she says, cutting a meaningful look toward my female.

  Lynn, however, regards me suspiciously as if she is trying to work out my angle. I silently snort. As if that would discourage me. She is suspicious, but that is no different than how any female among my kind would view the gesture, however honestly it may be offered. Still, there is something in her expression that eases, and that pleases me.

  “What is elworsh bread?” she asks, changing the topic.

  I glance over at Ashglad. “Make that an ale and two ciders… unless you would like ale as well?” I say, directing the question to her. She shakes her head and sends the male away with our order. Leaning back in my chair, I smile.

  “Elworsh is a coarse orcish bread made for stews. The hard outer crust also helps it travel well for rations when necessary. It is very filling, which is a good thing because there are not many good growing lands for grain. Our orchards do well enough, growing in the rougher terrain of our territory, but the grain only grows well in a few valley pockets. My sister’s mate buys a weekly supply of flour from the lowland mill and closes the tavern the first day of every week to pray to the grain mother and make the bread.”

  Her eyebrows rise a bit, and I have the feeling I’ve caught her interest—which excites me beyond all reason. I want to draw her mind out to play.

  “Besides this elworsh bread, what else do you make with it?”

  I scratch my jaw and consider. “Meat pies are thrown together in the evening. They are a favorite of mine. I can’t think of much else right from memory,” I admit.

  For some reason, her lips tip down with disappointment. “No pastries and sweets perhaps?” she presses.

  I shake my head. “Not that I know of.”

  “Damn.” Her low mutter catches me by surprise, but I attempt to refrain from inquiring further into it.

  That lasts about thirty seconds.

  “Why? Are you missing a favorite food from your home?” I school my features into an expression of sympathy although I’m not terribly fond of most sweet foods myself. If it is important to her, though, I’m eager to know.

  She gives me a strange look but shakes her head. “Not exactly. Although I do imagine that I would after a while. It’s just that I’m accustomed to selling my coffees with the option of some sort of sweet bread, muffin, donut… something.” She sighs and runs her hands through her short hair. “I’ll just have to figure that one out when I come to it. For right now, I’m just selling coffee anyway. Maybe
I can hire a baker cross-portal.”

  She is clearly talking to herself and not to me, so I wisely stay silent rather than offer my opinion. There are not many grown males I know in my village who enjoy sweet things the way that humans do, but it is possible that there would be a few who might indulge, especially if accompanied by the black bitter brew. The thought of her hiring a stranger and bringing them into our village—a stranger who would be with her every day as she made her coffees—made my blood boil. My claws curled with my instinctive desire to tear up something.

  Thankfully, Ashglad makes a timely arrival with our food, serving as the perfect distraction as he sets a basket of bread and large bowls of hearty stew in front of us. The ale is sparkling and crisp in its mug, a shade or two darker than the cider in the other two cups.

  “Food, thank goodness,” Kassie murmurs appreciatively, drawing her bowl closer.

  I grin at her enthusiasm as I watch her tuck into her meal. It seems that humans are no different than the whelping females of my own species. I chuckle when Kassie moans at her bite, and Lynn echoes it with her own small gasp of pleasure. It pleases me to see the humans enjoying orcish fare. We haven’t always been so lucky with visitors who peer at our rustic stews and meat pies as if we are offering them something unsavory. Ridiculous, I say.

  The stew set before us is a beautiful sight, thick brown gravy concealing tasty chunks of mutton, rosemary, garlic, the bite of pepper and salt among the potatoes, carrots, peas, and other vegetables. The golden-brown bread has a delightful crunch, and I immediately use a chunk to sop up some of the gravy before taking a generous bite of my own. Lynn also seems to be enjoying it, which delights me more than I can say. I want her to enjoy the food and atmosphere of our village so that she will want to make her home here. Although she eats at a more sedate pace, I can see her tense frame slowly relaxing as the hot stew works its way into her.