Page 36 of Protective Pucking Orc

“You know what, Dak? I can run even faster than a car. Will you teach me to skate?”

“Sure.” He agreed so casually, like it was nothing. “The pond out back is safe to skate on, as long as we stick to the edges. I’ll pick up some skates in your size from the rink.”

Rosa immediately launched into a monologue about how she would be the fastest girl ever, and Dakvaar hummed or offered suggestions as needed as he cooked.

I watched them, my chest tight. The way his eyes lit up when he talked about his team. The way Rosa hung on every word. The way he listened to her, like her questions actually mattered.

Like she mattered.

If Anthony had his way, my baby would grow up thinking her thoughts were incorrect and her opinions didn’t matter. She’d grow up believing a man needed to tell her how to think, and then sell her to one who would, just as my stepfather had done. But Dakvaar thought she was perfect just the way she was.

I chopped potatoes, my knife moving automatically as my mind spun.

He’d done too much. Too much, and I couldn’t⁠—

“Sofia.”

I jumped, nearly slicing my finger. Dakvaar’s hand closed over mine, stilling the knife. His touch was warm, calloused, careful.

“You’re hurt,” he murmured.

I blinked down at my wrist, the one Anthony had kicked. It ached, but not as badly as before. “I’m fine.”

His jaw tightened. “You’re not.”

I exhaled, pulling my hand back gently. “Okay, but I’m better.”

He didn’t smile at my teasing tone, but I saw the slight roll of his eyes as he turned back to the stove.

The pair of us cooked in silence after that, the only sounds were Rosa’s excited chatter and the sizzle of the steak. When we sat down to eat, she insisted on sitting between us, her small body a warm bridge.

Dakvaar cut her steak into tiny pieces, making sure there was no fat, no gristle. He passed me the potatoes first, his fingers brushing mine. I ignored the way my skin tingled.

Rosa talked about her day, about the snowman she’d built in the yard, about the way Veth’kar the dragon plush had “guarded” her while she napped.

Dakvaar listened. He always listened, nodding where appropriate.

And I watched.

The way his tusks glinted in the light when he smiled at something she said. The way his shoulders relaxed when she laughed. The way his hand flexed, like he wanted to reach for me but wouldn’t let himself.

I wanted to know what he was thinking.

I wanted to know everything about him, and I told myself it was just to find a way to repay him.

After dinner, I tucked Rosa into the guest bed, her dark curls fanned out on the pillow, her new dragon clutched in her arms.

“Goodnight, mija,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Night, Mama,” she mumbled, already half-asleep. “Dak’s story tomorrow?”

I smiled. “If he’s up for it.”

She nodded, snuggling deeper into the blankets.

I turned off the light and pulled the door halfway shut, then stood there for a moment, just listening to her breathe.

Safe.