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Tor shrugged, laughed it off. “Just a pipe dream.”
Lucia nodded. “I imagine there would be a lot of monsters around Motham who would love to acquire that island. It’s very beautiful.”
Tor stiffened. “You’ve been?”
“No never, but I know folks who’ve flown over it.”
Tor resisted the urge to scowl. Folks meant vampires.
The thought of them and their scheming evil ways being anywhere near that beautiful spot… he stopped himself short. Lucia had broken ties with her relatives in the Kominsky family. They were bad news, rumored to have their hands in all sorts of illegal ventures, and Tor had been very glad to hear that Lucia had severed contact. But still… he couldn’t quite dislodge the sense of unease that settled in his gut.
He really had to overcome this prejudice, for his sister’s sake.
“Fantastic stew, Kat,” he said, changing the subject, then winked at his mom. “Though not as good as yours, Mom.”
Katrina thumped his arm.
They spent the rest of the evening in pleasant conversation, reminiscing about his and Kat’s orcling memories, discussing the chimney problem, and giving the family a rundown on the amazing properties of Plutark.
As Tor got up to leave, he went over and hugged his dad, now seated back by the fire with his plastered leg out on a stool. “Don’t try and get up, Dad.” He bent and gave his dad an awkward hug. Orc guys didn’t hug as a general rule, they thumped one another to show affection, but he wasn’t going to thump Dad right now.
“When you’ve closed the deal on Orc Island you’d better buy me a boat to get there.” His dad chuckled as he clapped him on the back.
Tor straightened. “I will, for sure Dad.”
“Over my dead body,” Mom grumbled. “Hey wait, my boy—I have something for you.” She hurried into the kitchen and brought back a square of something wrapped in wax paper. “A treat to have with a cup of tea when you get back to the hotel.”
Fruddel cake. Tor savored the smell of the unique spices and apple, the toffee-crusted top. How many times had he eaten this cake? It was a staple, served with a nice steaming mug of tea at every orc event. He smiled, remembering the good times.
And then there were the bad times. When vampire bullies stole the fruddel cake from his lunch box and fed it to the fish in the pond nearby, saying orc food was only fit for bottom dwellers. Until eventually, when Tor’s muscles grew and he was twice as big as any vampire, he’d picked up the two black-hearted ringleaders, slung one over each of his huge shoulders and dumped them in the pond.
That had been a good day. Watching their wings covered in pond weed as they struggled to clamber out of the murky water.
Egh, let it go, man.
He drew his mom into a hug. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Not going to let my boy starve.”
“Look at me.” He smirked, thumping his stomach. “Not going to happen.”
He guessed in her eyes he’d always be her boy who needed feeding up.
In the cab heading back toward his hotel, he took his phone from his pocket, turning it over in his hand; the urge to put in a call to Shona was almost overwhelming. All evening he’d pushed aside the flashes that came to him unbidden of their night together, but now he was alone, it all crowded back in technicolor: the feel of her full breasts in his palm, the soft mewls that had turned into full-blown cries of delight as she orgasmed, the way her sweet cunt had gripped him so fucking perfectly, until he’d seeded her spectacularly.
Seeded her.
His seed. Inside her.
He stared, unseeing, at the passing streets.
There was no way she could be pregnant with his orcling. Surely?
But instead of alarming him, the thought thrilled him. Imagining his hand stroking her sweet swollen belly made his chest feel strangely full. Ha! She’d probably shudder at the thought of carrying an orcling, having it ruin her stunning figure.
Except she didn’t seem vain—in fact, she seemed exactly the opposite. Despite her charm and beauty and style, she appeared delightfully unaffected by it all.
Frankly, as far as he was concerned, she was delightful in every way.
