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My heart speeds thinking of Darrel sleeping upstairs. If there’s going to be trouble, Dominic left this afternoon on a supply run so it’s just me and my sort of adoptive younger brother to face off with whatever trouble comes calling.
“I see right through that t-shirt! Nice nipples, I can almost taste them…” A lanky human with goggles, wearing the douchy orc-appropriator style leather straps and Mohawk, wags his tongue at me as I glare back trying to keep up with Tigor who is almost to the street in five steps.
Goggles guy hops off, along with two other humans, but the orc keeps his focus on Tigor. Mol’s growl comes from behind my shoulder as he settles in just behind Tigor.
They meet the humans at the curb, fists clenched as Raven’s voice calls to me from behind, telling me to step away.
I’ve been known to not make the best of decisions when I’m angry. That’s why the social workers had to move me around so much in foster care. I had what they call, ‘An attachment disorder coupled with an explosive and unpredictable temper’.
Translated…I don’t trust easily, and I don’t take any shit.
I’m next to Tigor before he can object. “You think you can take my home? I’ll build a moat around it and shoot flaming arrows from the roof if necessary.”
Tigor spins, mouth open looking at me as the guy with goggles lunges forward, darting his hand out before I can swat it away. His fingers clamp around my throat.
Time seems to slow. I reach up and grab his forearm to tug it away, but as my fingers grip his wrist there’s a metallic flash in front of me and a scream.
His hand drops from my throat in one easy pull but I’m blinded by a spray of warmth and the coppery tang of blood fills the air.
There’s more screaming as I’m thrown to the ground, wiping the backs of my hands over my eyes only to draw them away covered in crimson smears. And I realize what’s happened.
An armless hand lays on the grass by the curb as Tigor and Mol make quick work of the other three humans, throwing them like dolls into the street as goggles guy cowers behind the vehicle, staring at the remaining stump as he tries desperately to stanch the flow of blood.
“Who’s next?” Tigor roars holding the bloodied knife in one hand. “I’ll litter this street with body parts. Anyone who touches what is mine will lose a hand, or a head. Your choice.”
The orc in the back seat of the vehicle looks amused, making no effort to join in the chaos. He runs the backs of his fingers down his cheek, keeping his eyes pinned on Mol and Tigor.
“Come.” He roars. “Useless humans.” He licks his lips. “We will take what is ours soon enough.”
“You will find an early grave if you try, Ma’Slatha scum.”
He laughs, a low menacing sound. “I’m in no rush. But, in time, this will be ours and you and yours will be part of Clan Ma’Slatha.Lakktra scum.”
“Never.” Tigor growls.
With that, the humans jump into the vehicle, one of them wrapping goggles guy’s spurting bloody stump while they peel out and head back the way they came.
There’s a blur of movement, then Tigor lifts me from the cool grass, inspecting me as I process everything that’s juts happened.
He balances me on his forearm, making it into a seat as I lean against his biceps and wrap one arm around the hard expanse of his shoulders to keep from falling.
I swallow, a burning in the back of my throat as I wonder what’s going to happen. I fought my whole life for everything. This house, this little sanctuary in a world gone mad, has been the only thing I could call my own. I’m the happiest here I’ve ever been, and the thought of it being taken from me leaves a black hole in my chest.
Back inside the door of Tigor’s house, Raven is fussing over me. She and the two orc women bring over a cool bucket of water and some cloth while Tigor watches, nostrils flaring, chest heaving...
God, he’s sexy.
“Here.” He grunts. “Gathra, you are not getting it all.” He snatches the damp cloth from the older female orc, then sweeps his long arm around me, backing Raven and the younger orc away. “I will do it.”
I tug absently at the hem of the boxers as this monster-sized orc wipes the blood from my face. My belly flutters at the gentleness and care, so out of step with the way he looks, and I shiver as I focus on the broad leather-strapped plates of his pectoral muscles.
“They said they will be back,” Mol says to Gathra and Athaan. “We will need to prepare.”
“Our clan outnumbers the Ma’Slatha by a hundred or more. They will not take what is ours,” Tigor grits out through clenched teeth, but I’m not so sure he’s just talking about the property.
“Yes, but they have guns. Lots of them and they hold sway over at least a hundred more of the neo-human coalition.” Athaan says, looking between her brothers.
Anxiety twists in my belly next to the fluttering, knowing Darrell is home and I intended to come over here, pound on the door, tell off the orc next door and be home in less than a minute.
