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Jenna tried to take me by the wrist, but I swatted her away. She is relentless, though, and tries again. The feel of her skin on mine is radiant, and she is attractive in her forceful nature.
But I can’t deal with that right now.
“Where am I going to hide?” I whisper back. “This dwelling is miniature."
She grits her teeth, then vanishes out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her unceremoniously.
I am somewhat alarmed, but not entirely. Jenna is somehow making this inconvenience worthwhile.
SIX
JENNA
This Verrin character is attractive and interesting but also a bit condescending. He is holding back information and got riled up when I told him about the broken statue.
He is certainly far more supernatural than a simple dark elf.
But I feel so drawn to him. It's very strange. I haven’t been drawn to anyone in years, not since before my father passed. Then, of course, my mother got gravely ill, which made me place pleasure and fun in the back seat of priorities.
Verrin, though, something about him stokes my fire. It seems like terrible timing with the orcs continuously in power and my mother still knocking on death’s door. But another voice inside my mind tells me to relax, that it’s okay and entirely human towant.
Todesire.
But all of those pleasant sensations fly out the window when I hear the slam on the front door and the shrieking of the orcs. Carmen is the only one who knows about what I’d done … taking this dark elf, or whatever he is, from the crater made at the center of the village … how the fuck do the orcs already know about it?
I tried to order Verrin to hide, but even I knew this was futile. He is dangerously tall, and no matter where he goes, he looks comical. There is no way to disguise him.
His eyes are that sharp shade of red, flashing a little like a siren when he protests. The house is small, and the farm is vast, but it is open to a main road. He would stand out like a batlaz in a dress.
“Just figure it out,” I seethe at him, then slam the door shut.
My heart jumps around inside my chest like a terrified suru, the small rodent-like creature thumping away painfully, and although I can’t seem to scour my mind for an actual place someone of Verrin’s size might hide, I have all the faith in him to figure it out.
He is, after all, something mystical, right?
There really isn’t any time to consider it because the orcs are barreling down on my front door. If they went at it any harder, it would certainly break and slam down into my foyer.
I stretch and crack my jaw, ready to put on my dainty, oblivious female face. Of course, the orcs are not human, but they are quite simple and a bit brainless. Because of their simplicity, I will apply the enchanting prowess of my female wares.
It makes me feel coarse in a sticky, non-fun way, but it works most of the time. All I have to do is unbutton my blouse a bit, let these magnificent breasts breathe, and bat my eyelashes. Make them think the space between my ears is hollow.
I scramble to undo a few buttons of my tunic, showing off my cleavage in a bra meant for farm work. I tighten the scarf around my head and purse my lips, forcing a flirty mode, even if it feels the most unnatural avenue when it comes to hideous orcs.
“No time,” I mutter to myself, then reply in a jovial and high-pitched melody, “Coming!”
I swing the door open and immediately lean against the frame of the door, tilting my head like an ignorant shrew.
“Good afternoon, sirs,” I say, seemingly high-spirited. “How can I help you, handsome gentlemen, today?”
Orcs, by nature, are devastatingly ugly. But their dominance in their field of violent conquests has never required them to be anything but just that. Their own foul selves. Their behavior matches their aesthetics, exhibiting an utter lack of effort to make up for their supreme unlikability.
After all, they did abduct most of us who live here, enslave us, and essentially kill my father. But I pushed that down like the poison it is and stored it away for another day.
The lead orc is the tallest with the largest belly sticking out in front of him, his skin a gangrene shade and likely scaly to the touch. They are all dressed in armor familiar to everyone in the village, which drapes over their chest and bottom groin areas. This orc leader has red and purple scars around his eyes, likely from battle or even a simple scuffle at the tavern.
Their eyes are black, bleak, and nightmarish. The colors do not vary from what I’ve seen. Even light seems to be swallowed by them, disappearing the second it lingers near the iris.
The leader grunts, only glancing down briefly to the valley of my cleavage.
