I sat, clasping my hands tightly in front of me, then with a deep breath, I began my pitch.
“I’ve been a personal trainer for the last eight years helping people reach their individual goals whether that is being able to play with the grandkids in the back yard or reaching a personal best in a marathon.”
I was losing him. I could tell by his expression I was losing him.
“I can do the same for the Tusks. I can devise individualized plans to help each orc improve their performance, and group plans to help them play cohesively as a team.”
The demon waved his hand, as if batting away a pesky fly. “I don’t care about any of that.”
Here’s where I sell my soul.
“With my help, they’ll all look super hot as they skate shirtless across the ice. We’ll do group runs through the city without their shirts on and tiny little jogging shorts that show off their legs. Women will go nuts. Think of how much women pay each year to watch erotic dancers. The team will be their way to ogle hot orcs in a socially acceptable sports setting. Guys will come to see the hockey and the fights and laugh at the orcs. Women will come to see buff dudes with hardly anything on.”
The demon shrugged. “I don’t know. Those guys are pretty muscular right now. I’m not sure paying you would bring enough extra in ticket sales to cover your cost.”
Forget selling my soul, I was now practically giving it away.
“But the group training outside in the city is advertising that will bring in extra ticket sales. You can sell merch, like sexy calendars and cards with each orc’s picture on the front and stats on the back—stats like their biceps measurements in addition to whatever hockey stats you might want to include.”
Still losing him.
“I’ll charge half my normal fee for two months just to prove to you that this will increase your revenue.”
He pursed his lips at that, expression thoughtful.
“What do you say? Two months at half-price with no contract, no penalty to cancel if you don’t see profits. If you do see profits, then we can talk about a season-long contract that includes the end of this season.”
There was a long silence. I held my breath, clenching my hands so tight on my lap that my fingers were turning pale.
The demon stood. “Leave your information up front. Let me think it over. I’ll call you if I’m interested.”
23
ENG
Ihated the bus. It smelled. It was noisy. The seats were not sized for orcs and my knees were pressed against the back of the seat in front of me. Sleep was impossible, although many of the team somehow managed it judging from how their loud snoring added to the rumble and rattle of this transportation death trap.
The shrew had not come to the stadium to see me leave. Normally this wouldn’t have bothered me, but seeing Ozar’s mate there, hugging and kissing him made me feel the loss of someone, anyone, who would miss me. It was ridiculous. We weren’t in the early stages of wooing. The recent dates had been fun, and had made the sex afterward even better, but none of that was enough to expect the shrew to cling to me as I boarded the bus, telling me how much she would miss me and how she would count the minutes until she could be in my bed again.
Secretly, I found the idea of the shrew longing for me very appealing. And for the three hours we’d been driving down the paved roads, I’d thought of little else but her.
It was for the best that she hadn’t shown up. Ozar was a mess after his mate had rejected his proposal right there in theparking lot of the stadium. Not that any female would refuse an offer of marriage fromme, but the whole spectacle in the parking lot had made me cringe. Laughter should have been my reaction, but instead I’d actually felt sorry for the huge idiot sprawled on the pavement with a ring in his outstretched hand.
The shrew wouldn’t marry me.
She’d made very clear that first night we’d met that she wasn’t looking for anything beyond amazing sex, and I’d been happy to give that to her. She hadn’t been what I was looking for. I wasn’t a good match for her either. In the furs we were incredibly compatible, but great sex didn’t always make for a good marriage. Still, I enjoyed her company outside of the bedroom as well as in the furs. And increasingly when I thought of my future bride, I could only see her face.
Be honest. You’re not looking for another female. You don’t want another female.The voice in my head made me wince, because it was right.Ever since you put your hand-axe into the shrew, you haven’t wanted anyone else. All the other orcs will have found their brides and gone home, and you will still be here, wooing the shrew. She’ll eventually tire of you, leave you for the next interesting male she meets, and you will be left with no one.
I shook off the annoying voice riding my conscience and tried to think about how I might introduce the shrew to my father and mother.
She was attractive. She was intelligent. She was most likely extremely fertile. She enjoyed travel and would be enthusiastic about visiting my kingdom. And while she cared about her family and made a priority to spend time with them, that shouldn’t be an immediate problem. There was no rush for me to get back, just a rush for me to marry and have orclets. We could return to preside over important events, and spend much of our next few years at least here in Baltimore.
The female I’d been sent to marry was to be submissive, willing to do as I told her without argument or sullen pouting. She should be able to entertain herself quietly in a distant part of the palace with activities that were suitable for the mother of royal children—hobbies like reading, sewing, flower arranging, or decorating her wing of the castle. She should be willing to appear for balls and other affairs of state to stand decoratively and silent by my side. Other than official occasions and breeding, we would not need to spend any time in each other’s company. She could live her life as she pleased as long as she was meek and performed her duties. Once we’d had three or four oraclets, I need not bother her anymore with physical attention.
This was what my parents had sent me to achieve. This was what I’d been told I would do since I was a baby. Marry appropriately. Bear offspring. Do whatever my father said and remain in the wings, a figurehead until I needed to wear the crown. My father was healthy and strong, so it might be a decades or more until I was king. Even if it were fifty years away, with fae spells and potions, my human bride would be there at my coronation ceremony and stand by my side as I ruled.
It sounded horrible.
