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It was warm and balmy with the humidity. He guessed that was something. It would get cooler after the rain stopped—he’d light the fire then.
As they huddled together inside the entrance of the cave and nibbled on olives and figs and drank wine, Tor felt his shoulders relaxing a little. Soon the storm was upon them, the rain falling in sheets. Thunder clapped, and lightning lit up the heavens. Shona jumped and squealed every time there was a roll of thunder, which made them both laugh. She was so different right now from the sophisticated woman he’d met in her lilac suit—what? Just a couple of days ago. He loved this more vulnerable, fun-loving side to her.
Finally, when the sky cleared, under the light of the moon, Tor lit a fire.
He poured them each another wine, then went and scooped clear clean water from the lake.
“It tastes beautiful,” Shona said, sipping it out of a conical shell he’d found by the pool’s edge.
“Legend has it that when orc brides drank the water and bathed in that lake it increased their, er, arousal on their wedding night,” he said.
“Really?”
“Just a rumor,” he added quickly, cursing his big mouth.
“Good job I’m not an orc bride then,” she said, a little breathily.
“Good job indeed.” He got up and stoked the fire to hide his smirk, all the while trying to stop himself imaging her as his bride, laying her down and riding her on this stone ledge.
“Tell me more about your family,” she asked as he sat back down, a safe distance away in case his orc libido got the better of him. “Your sister, what does she do?”
“Katrina works for Tower Security, Grayson Lightfoot’s operation. You must know it?”
“Who doesn’t? It’s pretty much common knowledge that Tower Security do the real policing in Motham, not the PD.”
“Yeah, that’d be right. Katrina heads up a foot patrol unit in East Motham. Tough as nuts on the outside, soft as marshmallow on the inside, that one.” He sighed. “Honestly, it will be good to spend more time with her, especially if she has younglings with Lucia. Fingers crossed.”
“You like the idea of being an uncle?”
“Yeah, I do. The time is right.”
She sat silently, nibbling on a fig. Tor hugged his knees to his chest, staring at the fire.
“I’d like to be a dad too someday.” Gods, there he went again. Zip it, Arquin.
She was silent for a moment, and when she spoke her voice was airy. “So you’ve never got close to being one?”
“Once, I thought about it, with a succubus, but she preferred her job as an acrobat in the circus. So no, not really. But as you get older, you know…”
“How old are you?”
“Thirty-three. And you?”
“Twenty-nine.”
“Planning to focus on your career for now, eh?”
“I guess. Haven’t met the right person, so…”
“Guess we’re in the same boat then.”
The cave spiked with a hum of energy too powerful to deny. To stop himself from reaching over and touching her, Tor again raked the embers with a stick and crackles sparked up into the dark night sky. A huge moth flitted toward the fire, diving kamikaze-style toward the flames, but Tor gently guided it away with the stick and somehow it knew not to come back.
“That was kind,” Shona observed softly.
He grunted. “Making up for all my bad karma.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve done bad things and I’m alone on an island with you!”
