I’d accepted this duty with a sort of numb resignation outside of a few ill-judged antics in my youth. Most orcs had the freedom to create the life they wanted, but I was not born to that. My future was mapped out from the womb, and I had learned there was no sense in trying to change it.
As the shrew would say:Fuck that shit.
Tightening my jaw, I pulled my phone from the pocket of my jacket, opening up the picture section. With a quick glance around the bus to make sure no one was looking, I swiped through the photos.
The shrew at one of our games, her head thrown back mid-laugh. The shrew sleeping in her furs with her curls tucked into asilken cap, her lashes long and dark against her golden skin, her lips parted slightly as she slept. The shrew walking away from me, the tall-heeled shoes she wore making her legs sinfully long and sculpted, the tight dress hugging every muscle of her strong body, her rear-end a mouth-watering, perfect globe. The shrew with her arm around one of her friends, leaning forward to tell the other woman something, with a wicked smile curling her sexy lips.
The bus ride was long, noisy, and smelly with all of us crammed into the uncomfortable seats, but I managed to sleep enough that Ozar’s insane insistence we all work out only a few hours after arriving at our hotel didn’t annoy me as much as it usually would. Instead of telling the other orc to fuck off, I actually went to the lobby with the others and participated in the exercise.
It was surprisingly enjoyable to run through this city, up and down steps and back to the busy streets. The humans cheered us on, some following along and snapping pictures with their phones as we lifted benches and performed random feats of strength. Normally I would hate being a spectacle, performing like I was part of a side show act, but while the humans were clearly entertained they treated us like…celebrities.
It was the longest day ever. We lost the game. I missed my hovel, my elderly friends, my favorite diner. And I missed my shrew. The next day I worked out with the team, and managed to find some time on the ice with no one watching to practice skating.
That night I could hear Ozar in the hotel bathroom talking to his mate over the phone and yanking on his hand-axe, I thought of my own female with her black curls, dark eyes, and golden skin. I imagined curling up with her under the sheets and talking. I imagined us having breakfast together, kissing her and tasting syrup and coffee on her lips. I imagined tasting everyinch of her, touching her smooth skin and her firm muscles. I imagined being inside her and that ecstasy of not just pleasure, but of a warmth that felt like coming home.
I missed her. And I would count the days until I was back in Baltimore and in her arms once again.
24
WILLA
Eng didn’t call before the team headed out for their away games on Thursday night. I supposed he was busy wrapping things up in anticipation of two weeks on the road and the team was leaving rather late at night, so I wasn’t bothered by the lack of a call or even a text.
I didn’t hear from him Friday either. I wanted to believe that he’d arrived in Chicago exhausted, fell into bed, and had been going nonstop until the game. Then the game ended and there still was no call or text. For two weeks we’d been having sex. Almost a week of dating and connecting. I’d expected… I’d expected at least a damned text.
In the two weeks I’d known him I hadn’t asked for his number. I didn’t want to be the one to reach out; I wanted it to behim. I’d meet him halfway, but I just needed to see him take the first step, then I’d take one of my own.
I heard nothing Saturday, or Sunday, or Monday, or Tuesday. A week went by. Jordan and Ozar were talking, having resumed their relationship. It became difficult to hear her gushing about how he’d call her every night, how they weregetting spicy on the phone long distance, and how in love she was.
I wanted that. As happy as I was for my friend, I was also jealous because that was what I’d wanted with Eng.
I should have known better. I should have known this wasn’t going to go anywhere. I wasn’t princess material. I wasn’t what he was looking for. I was just some great sex and a way to alleviate the boredom. I meant nothing to him, so there was no reason for him to bother making an effort to even send me a text. He’d probably found tons of other women to bang. Puck bunnies who would be thrilled to show a gorgeous orc hockey player a good time, no matter whether he actually participated in the game or not.
Eng wasn’t the only one I didn’t hear from. Escalates Johnson, the owner of the Tusks hadn’t gotten back to me about my proposal. When I’d left his office, I’d held a tiny glimmer of hope that luck would be on my side and he’d decide to take a chance on me.
It seemed no one was going to take a chance on me.
I did my best to appear cheerful and upbeat around Jordan and Abby. I taught as many classes at the gym as I could, kept all my client appointments. It wasn’t easy. All I wanted to do was curl up in bed and sleep for weeks, shut out the world, drown myself in sorrow and self-pity.
For two weeks I watched Eng stand against the wall during the hockey games, his arms folded over his chest as he scowled at the other players. For two weeks I mourned what could have been.
Then I pulled myself together, dusted myself off, and counted my blessings. I had a job I loved. I had my family. I had my friends. Someday I’d find love with a man who put me first, who truly loved me back, who saw me as their princess.
Someday.
25
ENG
Icouldn’t bring myself to actually participate in the hockey games. It wasn’t just the probable humiliation that I was avoiding. On skates I could barely remain upright and slowly make my way around the edge of the arena. There was no way I would be of any help to the team. In fact, I’d just be a hinderance. And I’d be laughed at, which I refused to allow to happen. So I continued to lean against the wall, although I was happy to participate in any fight and if the puck came my way, I was also happy to swat at it with my stick.
Outside of the actual games I continued to sneak onto the ice to practice skating. And although I grumbled about it constantly, I always joined the team on their daily workout routine. It was actually enjoyable to run around the various cities, and it was especially gratifying to have humans cheer us on and take pictures of us. I liked being a celebrity. And if I could become better at skating, I might actually try playing this game. The idea of humans chanting my name and having me sign various pieces of paper appealed to me, it just didn’t appeal enough for me to risk making an utter fool of myself.
Why did I even bother thinking about this stupid game? I was only supposed to be in this world for a short time—only long enough to find a bride and return home. And while I hadn’t found the female I was sent to get, I had found one I wanted to marry. And each day that went by, the idea of spending my life with anyone else horrified me. That future I’d envisioned, the one I’d been destined since birth to have no longer felt as if it were fated. For the first time in my life I felt as if I had a choice.
I’d marry my sassy shrew. We’d return to my kingdom if she wanted, and together we’d build a future made of our dreams. With her by my side, anything was possible. And if she didn’t want to return to my home, that wouldn’t be a problem. My father was healthy and I wouldn’t need to think about assuming my role as king for decades at least. We could stay here where she had a job, family, and friends she loved. But we would not live in her hovel. Or in my hovel. We’d buy something larger, furnish it with whatever made her happy. A home large enough for all of her family and friends to stay, just as they should.
And if that were her choice, I’d need something to do aside from playing board games with elderly humans and learning about human shipping and receiving logistics. Hockey might as well be that something.
