We sit in silence after that. But it’s comfortable now. The weight of her secret isn’t crushing her anymore. The fire crackles. The cabin is warm. And slowly, gradually, I watch the tension drain from Anna’s body. Her eyes drift closed and her breath evens out.
“Sleep, Anna,” I murmur, quiet enough that it won’t wake her. “You’re safe here. I promise.”
Chapter Seven
Anna
Iwake up confused.
The room is bright and morning light streams through the windows. I’m in Keric’s bed, tucked under the covers, still wearing my oversized t-shirt and leggings. And then I remember why I’m not in my apartment in Truckee, that life is over.
The last thing I remember is falling asleep against Keric’s chest on the couch. The warmth of the fire. The safety of finally telling someone everything.
He must’ve carried me to bed.
My cheeks heat at the thought. Since I’m plus sized, I’ve never considered myself small enough to be carried anywhere, but Keric is so strong, I was probably light as air for someone like him. The thought makes butterflies dance in my belly. That powerful orc carried me to his bed and tucked me in. He let me sleep peacefully while he must’ve spent an uncomfortable night on that too-small couch.
I stretch, noticing how deeply I slept. No nightmares, waking me up to check the exits and no panic about someone finding me, just real sleep for the first time in three years.
The smell of bacon drifts under the door and my stomach growls in response. Keric is awake and cooking. Faint sounds of movement tinkle from the kitchen, pans clank softly and I hear heavy footsteps.
I get up and pad to the bathroom in the hallway. Then I wash my hands and splash water on my face, brush my teeth and try to tame my short hair. I look tired still but better than yesterday. My face doesn’t have that pinched, hunted look anymore.
I take a breath and head out to find that sexy orc who listened to my whole story last night and then held me in his arms until I fell asleep.
The orc I secretly want in bed with me.
Keric stands at the stove, shirtless again. His black horns gleam in the morning light and those massive green shoulders are a sight to behold. Muscles ripple across his back as he moves and the tribal tattoos sleeve both arms and seem to shift with each motion.
Bacon sizzles in a pan. Eggs wait in a bowl. Toast sits ready by the toaster.
He notices me immediately, like he has some sixth sense for when I enter a room. A wide smile spreads across his face, exposing a bit of tusk.
My heart skips a beat.
“Good morning. Sleep well?”
“Yes.” I hover by the doorway, suddenly shy. “Thank you for carrying me to bed. I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you like that.”
“You needed rest.” He turns back to the stove, flipping bacon with practiced ease. “And you’re perfect to carry.”
The compliment causes my face to heat. “I could’ve walked,” I say, moving into the kitchen properly. “You didn’t have to?—”
“I wanted to.” He plates the bacon, cracks eggs into the pan. “You were exhausted. It was no trouble.”
I sit at the small kitchen table with a cup of coffee and watch him cook. There’s something mesmerizing about the way he moves, like he’s done this a thousand times. The domestic scene feels surreal, this massive orc making me breakfast in his cabin in the middle of the Maine woods while I’m in witness protection from a corrupt US Senator.
My life is truly insane and hasn’t let up much in the last three years. But somehow, sitting here watching Keric cook, it now has changed and feels almost… normal.
I continue to remain thrilled that he knows how to prepare our meals, considering my main skill is calling for takeout. He told me yesterday that on the commune he always takes care of himself and doesn’t mind cooking at all. I assume all of the orcs and the women who have chosen to live here mainly have home cooked meals considering it’s hard to get takeout or kinda far to go to a restaurant. If I lived here, it would be very different from what I was used to, living in cities my whole life. I thought Truckee was small, but this commune is very rustic compared to life back in California. Not rustic in a bad way, in fact maybe just quieter in a nice way.
Keric pauses to serve me a full plate of food. Crispy bacon, perfectly scrambled eggs and buttered toast.
I clap with delight. “Thank you so much.”
Keric sits down across from me with his own plate that’s piled twice as high.
We eat in comfortable silence for a while. I compliment his cooking and I swear a blush spreads across his cheeks. He eats with gusto, those white teeth and tusks flashing. I learn that this is a “human-style breakfast” he’s made in my honor, when in fact he’d normally eat just seasoned, dried elk meat and drink “orc brew”. Interesting.
