Page 30 of Protective Pucking Orc

The word was a growl in my chest.

I forced myself to exhale, to count the seconds until the yearning ache receded, then I flipped the last pancake.

Rosa insisted on telling Sofia the entire story of the pancakes—the burned ones, the perfect ones, how she’d almost eaten all the chocolate chips, but I’d stopped her.

Sofia listened, her eyes closed, a small smile playing on her lips. “You’re a very good cook, mija.”

Rosa preened. “Mr. Dakvaar says I’m very good.”

“You are,” I called. “And you don’t have to call me mister, Rosa. If you’re camping out in my house, that means we’re friends.”

“Okay!” she bounced beside her mother on the couch as Sofia took small, careful bites. “Dak says I’m a genius.”

“A genius, huh?” Sofia’s smile widened, then faltered as she winced. I saw the way her fingers twitched toward her jaw, the way she carefully didn’t touch it.

My Kteer snarled.

I turned away, busying myself with clearing the dishes. The sink water ran too hot, steam curling up around my wrists.

Control.

I gripped the edge of the counter until my knuckles ached.

When Sofia’s eyelids grew heavy, I took the dishes, then solemnly explained to an excited Rosa that cleaning was part of cooking, and to my surprise, she was happy to help. Then I sent her off to get changed, and she came skipping back into the kitchen with a brush.

“Here.” She thrust it at me. “You gotta do my hair, ‘cause Mama’s asleep.”

My hair was cut short, and although I had vague memories of my father doing this for my mother and a few of my brothers, I’d had no experience with it. Still, Rosa was trusting me to learn, so I would.

I gathered her in my lap and took care to gently work out the knots from sleep.

“Mama is always in a hurry,” she suddenly announced. “I like the way you do it!”

My lips curled slightly, peace filling me. “Thank you, dkaar.”

“That’s your name, silly!” She twisted around in my lap to frown up at me. “I’m Rosa. Ro-saaaa.”

This time I couldn’t help my genuine smile as I gently turned her back so I could work my claws and the brush through her hair. “My name is Dakvaar. Dkaar is a term of endearment, like honey or sweetheart…or mija.”

I could see her little thoughtful frown. “What does it mean?”

Her mother had asked that last night. I hadn’t wanted to make Sofia uncomfortable, not until I understood her situation, but Rosa… I exhaled softly. “It means beloved. My father used to call us all that.”

“I don’t have a daddy.”

My hands stilled. “You—” I swallowed. “You don’t?” I managed, trying to sound nonchalant, and feeling immediately guilty I was trying to get information from this precious innocent.

“Mama and me left him a long time ago, when I was a baby. She says he’s not a nice man.” Rosa was kicking her little feet, her heels slamming into my knees as I forced myself to brush her hair. “I don’t remember him.”

I remembered the smell of Sofia’s blood on the bastard’s knuckles, and how my teammates were texting me with updates about how they hadn’t been able to find him, and my grip tightened on the brush’s handle. “That’s probably for the best.”

“Yeah, but Tommy has a daddy, and sometimes I think I want one too, but I don’t tell Mama, because she works hard.” Rosa’s nod was solemn as she twisted toward me. “Now you gotta put in my pigtails.”

Having no idea what pigtails had to do with little girls, instead I lifted her gently from my lap. “I think I’ve done a good job as it is, and we’re not going anywhere fancy today. Should we do some drawing instead?”

“Yeah!”

Thank the gods below that Rosa was easily distracted; we sat at the kitchen table and drew together as she chattered and her mother dozed.