"Oh, I don't doubt that. Khash and his granddaddy were thick as thieves. I know he'd be pleased as punch to see you here, celebrating with all of us."
She was unable to push the tears down as her face was cupped in his grandmother's gnarled hands, feeling the heat of her cheeks, at her nose, the pricking at her eyes. She could already tell she would probably never like his two combative sisters, would do her best to get along with the eldest and her family, hoped his parents were as warm and accepting as his grandmother, but she thought, as Kash's giant hand landed at the small of her back just as his grandmother leaned down to kiss her forehead, that she might survive the weekend yet.
♥ ♥ ♥
She decided, once theywere pulling up the dark dirt road, surrounded by black trees and nothing else, that giant parties are the only ones she would be willing to attend in the future.
"This is terrifying. Where are you taking me again? This wasn’t in the notes and I don’t feel prepared. Youdounderstand I’m not built for the wilderness, right?"
"Lurielle, hush. I think when we get home, I’m going to put in for some time off this spring. We’re going camping, and you’re going to love it."
"I have no doubt I will, but this doesn’t feel like we’re going camping, Khash. This feels like you’re either taking me to a pre-dug grave in the woods, or we’re going to impose on a woods witch, and I am surprisingly not okay with either scenario."
"I have something more productive you could be doing with that smart mouth, other than running it." One of his huge hands left the steering wheel, gripping her wrist until she was palming the thick bulge at the front of his pants, already thickened and firm. "Now you wanna keep talking? Or do you want to put those pretty little lips to use?"
She laughed, scraping her nails over the shape of him, tracing the shape of his cock. It was pressed against his thigh, and the tight constriction of his pants seemed to her like it would be an enormous discomfort, wondering, not for the first time, how he even managed to get through his days with it always swinging around in the way. At that moment, they rumbled over a root, the carriage of the huge vehicle rocking, and he chuckled.
"On second thought, keep those teeth away from me just yet. Hold tight, darlin’. We’re almost there."
The whole clan had been a noisy, rowdy bunch, and it had been easy to feel invisible amidst the press of huge bodies around the massive fire in the center of the gathering grounds. Lurielle realized, shortly after arriving, that it was not actually a party for her and that she was not the main event. This was a fête thrown for Khash and Khash alone, and she was merely an accessory, ancillary to the events. She had a feeling other elves might have felt miffed over the turn of events, but she was not other elves and all she felt, standing invisible beside the beverage table, was a relief.
The evening proved to be illuminating. If she had hoped she already knew everything there was to know about the orc she loved, she might've been disappointed. Although, if she were being perfectly honest, Lurielle thought she could have guessed most of the facts she learned. He had been a sports star in his youth, playing on the clan's Grumsh’vargh and Ketterling teams, winning trophies and championships and all manner of young adult accolades which she had never achieved. "We would be covered in mud from nose to toes, every day," chuckled one of his childhood best friends, a fern-skinned orc with silver and copper bands stacked on his tusks. "I coach at the school now, and I tell my students about all the shenanigans we got up to every year."
"Smart as a whip," she was told by a brightly smiling orc woman with a waterfall of salt-and-pepper curls cascading down her back who had been his academic advisor in school. She learned that the clan had its own school right there, one of the buildings that created the landscape of their gathering grounds. "I've only had a handful of students in my entire career as smart and ambitious as our Khash," she beamed, and Lurielle had sipped her spiked punch, nodding like a field reporter, filing away every story and anecdote she picked up.
"He was meant to take me to the midsummer formal," griped an orc woman with a dozen piercings on each of her pointed ears, her full breasts barely contained by the low-cut tank she wore. "Canceled two weeks before. I had already bought my promenading shoes and everything."
"Midsummer formal is the last dance before oath swearin’," another woman at her elbow explained cheerfully. They were eating thick slices of a decadent cake, a white sponge filled with layers of crushed pineapple and banana, mixed with chopped nuts and whipped cream.
"It's the easiest recipe, suge, I'll be sure to write it down for you. This is always the one I try to win at the elder's cake throw," another orc woman had interjected when Lurielle's eyes fluttered closed as she took a large bite of the cake. "Bitty little thing like you, you could probably stand to eat a few of ‘em."
"Midsummer formal is the last dance before oath swearing," the second orc repeated, shooting a look at the one who'd interrupted her about the cake. "Oath swearing is sort of like our cotillion. You elves have cotillions, right?"
"We have something like that, yes," she answered, hoping her smile was cheery enough to prevent any further questions and that she didn't have any of the shredded coconut from the cake’s toppings stuck in her teeth.
"Well, it's our last dance before the big event, so it's pretty significant."
"And he canceled on me two weeks before. Who am I going to find two weeks before the dance?!"
"Melka, are you still goin' on about that? We were seventeen, you plannin' on holding it against me forever? It's not my fault I got asked by someone else." The women all groaned at his words as he materialized behind her, his massive hands spanning her not-at-all bitty waist, telling him off simultaneously in a raucous outburst of voices. He just laughed, stealing a sizable chunk of her cake from the plate.
"Hey, that's mine! Now you have to go get me another piece. And you'd better not take a bite first!" He'd bent with a chuckle, kissing the tip of her pug nose before heading off in the direction of the dessert table. When she turned back to the group, it was to find two of the orc women grinning at her, one being the possessor of the delicious cake recipe, while the other two had looked away, scowling.
He had been a clan heartthrob, sports star, an academic whiz. Everyone liked him, it seemed. More than one of the elders, whom she had been able to greet by name, thanks to the notes she'd studied on the plane, went out of their way to let her know that he was an orc of upstanding character, generous and honorable, a credit to their clan's name. He was handsome and smart and popular, all things she already knew, but the underlying conclusion to every errant conversation she listened in on and took part in, from every clan member she’d spoken with was surprise — and perhaps some small measure of disappointment — that he had left.
He had left, and not come back. Left and not come back, and was now visiting with an elf, the antithesis of all they were.
"Always thought our sons would grow up playing together," his childhood friend chuckled wistfully. "Guess that's not going to happen now."
"He had a full ride to school, did he tell you that? We were all so proud. I never would've imagined he wouldn't come home afterward. I used to tell him when he was in my class that someday he'd be doin' my taxes. Well . . . I hope he's happy with the work he's doing in the city."
"I guess we shouldn't be surprised that he found some pretty little elf. Since he couldn't even follow through on taking me to a dance."
She felt flummoxed as she moved from conversation to conversation, attempting to keep up her smile. She'd spotted his two sisters several times throughout the night, engaged in conversation with tight, pinched faces, their mouths moving quickly, and she hadn't needed to guess what the topic of their fire was. When she finally made it around to a cluster where his eldest sister stood, she gave Lurielle that same big, warm smile that she had when they'd arrived.
"He's making his case to the elders now," she’d murmured, nodding to where Khash was, far beyond the ring of partygoers, sitting on a folding chair before a line of old orcs who all looked to be at least in their 80s. The bonfire's warm orange glow cast him in its halo, making his thick black braid gleam. Even from the distance, and with all these people between them, he was the most handsome man she'd ever seen, regardless of species. His striking profile was outlined in the flames — the broad slope of his features, straight nose and square jaw, ending at his dimpled chin.
She understood his words now, the ones he'd uttered to her that night when she'd had her little break down in the kitchen. These were his people. He loved and revered them, and they did the same in reverse . . . and each of them seemed to resent him, just a little bit. He’d left and not come home, left his clan behind, his traditions behind, and it seemed, to her at least, that they held just a smidgen of a grudge.
