“If you’re looking for a different kind of crowd, the south end of town here is where you’ll want to stay. That’s where I’ll be,” he’d gestured with the cigarette to a creaking sign on the side of an old building, just down the block, “at the Pixie...drinks on me if youdecideto stop in, dove. I hope you do.”
She stood beneath the sign now,The Plundered Pixie, giving it a proper look over now that she wasn’t squinting up the block. The creaking iron featured the silhouette of the titular pixie; her wings outstretched as she was...Silva blushed when she realized that the shape behind the pixie was a satyr, their forms locked together, giving the bar’s name meaning.No more waffling, she decided resolutely, hearing the sounds of laughter approaching up the sidewalk. The longer she loitered on the street, the more likely she was to be accosted by one of the nudists. She would be, wonder of wonders, safer in the little pub.Time to decide…
Pulling the door open with bated breath, the sight of bar patrons had her exhaling in short-lived relief. Big and brawny and completely clothed, wearing jeans and tight t-shirts, leather vests and enormous belt buckles, pierced and tattooed. Even hunched over pool tables, the orcs seemed massive to her, and several sets of eyes moved over her appraisingly as she crossed the threshold, feeling on display and out of place.This was a bad idea.The pub itself was larger than she’d expected, with high ceilings of beamed lumber and amber-hued lighting. As her eyes swept the room, she spotted an empty stool on the far side of the bar, tucked out of the way where she’d be able to keep her head down and go unnoticed by anyone, sip a cocktail or two before going back to the room like the pathetic little mouse she was—
“I’m glad you took my advice, dove.” The lilting brogue in her ear was comfortingly familiar, the tension in her narrow shoulders dropping ever-so-slightly at his voice.
His mischief-filled eyes were the color of late-autumn honey, and his smile was wider than she thought it should be, but Silva was relieved all the same.
“Hi,” she murmured breathlessly, turning in relief.
Tate had been the only orc on the floor in the small bistro earlier that evening, but now, amidst a room full of others, Silva could see that her initial suppositions were accurate: he was far smaller in stature than the other orcs in the room, lean and lithe, his slender tusks only extending a bit past his upper lip and ending in sharp points. His hair was still up in a messy bun, pulled back from his delicate-looking face, but he’d changed, the white button-down and black pants of his uniform having been swapped for a fitted black tee and snug, battered jeans. His high cheekbones and long jaw gave him a vaguely aristocratic air, his limbs were long and graceful, and his unusual eyes sparkled with an unnatural brightness. He was ridiculously handsome, she thought.Even Nana would think so! Just relax and enjoy yourself for a change.
“Drink?” he asked, steering her through the crowd with a hand at her waist. Directing her to the far end of the bar, he called out to the bartender in Orcish. Silva felt a quiver of nervous excitement move up her back as the massive orc nodded, setting a golden-hued glass before her a moment later. “It’s similar to Mirúlvin, so don’t drink it too fast,’’ Tate advised with another sharp-edged smile when a second glass was slid to where he stood beside her bar stool.
Silva looked up in surprise. “How do you know about—”
Cutting herself off, she gave the handsome orc another once over. Mirúlvin—a fortified Elvish wine made from fermented sweet berries—was deceptively strong, a lesson every young elf learned the hard way at some point in their adolescence. Silva couldn’t imagine why an orc would know such a thing, not unless…“You’re notjustan orc.”
♥♥♥
The roman baths were a long hall of echoing marble, the air thick with steam from the roiling pools of water, and every step she took reverberated between the columns, the sound trapped and rattling in the heavy vapor. The room was empty, save for the massive upper back of the orc reclining in the far left marble tub. Lurielle paused, realizing she was well away from the relative safety of the bar, and the orc before her was bound to be unclothed.
She’d left Ris on the party deck, where the tall elf was attempting to cajole not one but two brawny orcs into stripping down and joining her in the hot tubs. Lurielle had cut herself off after three drinks, wanting to remember anything humiliating she might do and not entirely trusting of the wandering hands of some of the other resort guests. The groping hands, thumping music, and copious alcohol were giving her a headache, reminding her of every sorority party and late night club at which she’d felt uncomfortable in undergrad. Deciding to leave early and join Silva, she’d passed the sign pointing towards the roman baths, choosing to make a quick detour to check out the space.
“Plenty of room in here, darlin’.” The orc’s voice rose from the steam, a deep, unexpected drawl that made Lurielle shiver, despite the heat. His voice was that of a stranger’s, but as she stepped closer, he turned, giving her a lazy smile that she recognized instantly.
It was the orc from the lake that morning, his long black braid disappearing behind him, his massive, well-muscled arms stretched out across the marble back of the tub. “Water’s nice and hot. Very relaxin’...you’re not going to want to get that pretty dress wet, though.”
His voice was like a sweet syrup, thick and dark and slow-moving, and Lurielle couldn’t explain the trance it seemed to put her in, why it relaxed her at the same time it quickened her breath, but she drew ever closer to the steaming water as if pulled by his drawling cadence. The blue pareo was a tangle of fabric, and it took her several fumbling moments to locate the knot, undone with trembling fingers. She tugged the gauzy heap free, feeling gooseflesh rise on her skin as she turned hesitantly to the water, gripping the hand railing convulsively.
The orc before her was devastatingly handsome, with a large, square jaw and dimpled chin. His nose was long and straight, and thick black brows arched over heavily-hooded eyes, matching his lazy smile and syrupy drawl. His luxurious-looking hair formed a sharp widow’s peak at his brow, with several slim lines of beaded braiding over one of his pointed ears. Lurielle felt his eyes dragging over her as she slowly stepped into the steaming water, her heart climbing into her throat. Surely he was used to svelte elves, like Ris; to lithe werecats and leanly muscled orc women. Her dimpled thighs and muffin top were far from impressive, far from impressive, in comparison. Hesitating, she wondered if she’d be able to escape from the steamy room without making an even bigger fool of herself. She wasn’t able to force herself to look up until she was concealed in the water up to her waist, and was surprised to find his full lips curled up in a smile.
“Careful now, not too fast. It’s hot, you wanna give yourself a chance to adjust.”
She wondered, feeling a rush of adrenaline melt away a bit of her self-consciousness as the steam rose around her, if his words were a way to prolong looking at her.
“What brings a pretty little thing like you over this way tonight?” he asked once she’d settled into the water, seated across from him. “All alone?”
“Oh, um...I-I’m here with some friends...we were at the tiki bar on the deck for a bit, but that’s not really my scene.”
“Oh, no, ma’am. Too noisy for me. I come here to relax, not to go to bed with a migraine.”
Lurielle smiled at his words, not expecting the sentiment, nor believing that the handsome orc went to bed alone very often. “Do-do you not live here?”
“I have a membership to the resort club,” he admitted with a low chuckle that sent a shiver of nervous excitement up her back, “but I don’t live here. I try to get up once or twice a month, it’s nice to be able to put the city behind every once in a while. This your first time?”
Lurielle nodded, knowing the heat flushing her cheeks had little to do with the steamy water. “We had a long weekend from work and decided to, um...get away for a few days.”
She could see the glint of silver on his tusks as he grinned at her words, settling back against the marble once more. “Well, I’m very pleased that you did. Otherwise, I’d be deprived of such beautiful company on this fine night.”
She shifted on the hard marble, feeling her long ears heat.He’s a sweet talker and he probably does this routine with everyone. You’re not special.“I didn’t realize you could just have a club membership; we thought everyone lived here full time.” He chuckled again and she felt her thighs tremble at the deep, syrupy roll of it. His chest was broad and sculpted, water clinging to the dark hair that dusted his forest-colored skin. His nipples were pebbled in the cooler air above the water, she couldn’t help but notice, and Lurielle wondered how he would react if she were to tease the hardened peaks with her tongue.
“There’s quite a few who live here full time, but I’m not one of them,” he went on with a devilish smile, as though he could divine her thoughts. “That is alifestyleif you know what I mean, and I can’t say it’s one to which I’m willing to commit full-time.” His expressive eyebrows waggled as he spoke, and she was unable to keep her laughter in, blushing again as it echoed around the empty marble hall.
“Do you live very far away then?”
When he mentioned the slightly larger city that bordered Cambric Creek, Lurielle felt her mouth go dry. This man was gorgeous, was funny and charming, and he lived maybe thirty minutes away from her.He might even be on that dating app of Dynah’s…she realized that he was waiting expectedly for her to answer a question she’d only partially heard. “Oh! Me? Um, we’re from Cambric Creek, it’s...it’s not too far from here.”
