Aldar pulls up to the speaker and relays the order without inflection, like he’s placing a tactical equipment request instead of a fast-food order. He adds a burger for himself and nothing for Jonus, and I wonder briefly if orcs even eat at In-N-Out or if this stop is entirely for me.
When the food comes, Jonus hands me the bag. The smell hits me first — meat, grease, salt — and my mouth waters so intensely it almost hurts. I unwrap the burger with hands that shake slightly. The first bite is so good I have to close my eyes. Juice runs down my chin and I don’t care. I make a sound that might be embarrassing under normal circumstances but I genuinely don’t care.
“Good?” Jonus chuckles.
I nod, mouth too full to speak, and keep eating.
I finish every last bite and even lick the salt off my fingers. Then I crumple the wrappers into a ball and sit back against the seat feeling more human than I have in almost two weeks. “That,” I announce, “was the best hamburger I’ve ever had.”
“We’ll get you another one tomorrow.”
I glance over at Jonus, loving the shine of his black horns and the sound of his deep voice.
“Okay,” I say softly. “Tomorrow.”
The highway climbsand my ears pop.
I watch through the window as the sun sets and the landscape transforms. Flat valley giving way to rolling hills, then real mountains rising up around us. Pine trees cluster thick on either side of the road, so tall they block out the fading daylight. Patches of snow cling to shadowed areas despite the season. I’ve never been to this part of California. I’ve been to LA for work, San Francisco a few times, but never up here. Never to the mountains.
“We’re close,” Jonus says.
A small town appears with a charming downtown, ski shops and coffee houses. The kind of place that probably gets overrun with tourists in winter. But we don’t stop. We instead keep going to the fancy neighborhoods more on the edge of town. I can’t get over the nighttime quiet and the beauty of the mountains and the trees.
“It’s beautiful,” I murmur, half to myself.
“Wait until you see it in daylight.”
I try to imagine these mountains in full sun, the snow-capped peaks glittering, the air crisp and clean. So different from DC with its humidity and traffic and the churn of politics and big stories constantly breaking.
I could breathe here.
Finally, we pull into a gated community and stop in front of a house so big it qualifes as a mansion. It’s a modern construction but somehow fits with the mountain setting, with big windows and a wide porch.
“We’re here,” Aldar announces warmly as he shuts off the engine.
Jonus is already out of the car, coming around to my door. He opens it and reaches for me, and I let him lift me out because at this point we’ve established the pattern and honestly my feet ache and I’m too tired to argue.
I wrap my arms around his thick, corded neck, suddenly wishing I could kiss and suck on all that luscious skin.
Jeez, what’s wrong with me?
The front door opens before we reach the porch, spilling light onto the path.
The orc who appears first is massive, even bigger than Jonus, with thick black horns that curve upward and a presence that would be intimidating if not for the gentleness in his voice. “Welcome,” he says. “We’ve been waiting.”
This must be Garlen. Jonus’s cousin. The one who married a human woman.
A woman, who must be his wife, Ellie, pushes past him. She’s shorter than me, with strawberry-blonde hair and a face that radiates warmth even toward a stranger.. “Oh, honey. Come inside. You must be exhausted.”
Before I can respond, something small and fluffy rockets out the door, tail wagging frantically, racing in circles around Jonus’s feet with delighted yips.
I laugh despite everything. “Is that?—”
“Loki,” Jonus confirms, and there’s real affection in his voice. “Garlen’s dog. He’s excited to meet you.”
The corgi is adorable, with a fluffy butt, stubby legs, and a face so cute it borders on absurd. He bounces like he’s spring-loaded, desperate for attention.
A small face peeks out from behind Ellie’s legs. A little girl, maybe six years old, with her mother’s coloring and wide, curious eyes. She waves at me shyly.
