True Love's Kiss (A Slow Burn, Orc Romance)

CHAPTER I

VULTOG

I landed with thud, smacking into a hard surface. Pain flooded my body upon impact, and a feeble moan escaped from my mouth. Wherever I was now...the light was too loud, and the sounds were too bright. The only redeeming quality was the pungent aroma of spices occupying the air.

On weak, shaky legs, I managed to climb to my feet. My eyes cracked open a slither...only to reveal a haze of blurry, tilted shapes. I was too dizzy to see anything in this new environment clearly. So I waved my arms around, uselessly grappling for something--anything--to help me regain my balance.

A black blob in my focal vision grew larger and larger. It screeched to a halt in front of me. An angry, long honk followed. Then, someone, "Get off the road, ya utter c*nt!"

At last, something I recognised! Being cursed at was secondary to my partial relief about speaking the same language as the species of this new world.

Beep! Beep! BEEEEEEEEEP.

My eyesight cleared and sharpened, allowing more information to trickle in. I appeared to be standing on a road, infested with carriages. However, their design was unfamiliar. Shiny, four-wheeled things that purred, and travelled without the labour of horses.

"The fuck are ya standing' there for?!" The driver of the closest carriage leaned out of the window to shout at me. My presence was preventing a lane of them from moving.

A tidal wave of impatient honks arose from the queuing carriages, threatening to run me over and flatten me. More yells arose - some of them in foreign dialects that I didn't recognise.

I scuttled off the road, toward a path where lots of mortals were walking back and forth. The rough texture of the ground, and tiny rocks digging into the soles of my bare feet were suddenly of little importance...because the feet I was staring down at were not my own. They were pale and frail-looking and–

"Mortal!" I spat.

Arriving on the footpath, I whirled around to further study my surroundings. Across the sea of carriages, a marketplace bustled with customers and sellers, trading fruit, vegetables, garments and bizarre contraptions.

A massive red carriage--that appeared to have two levels--cruised past. My blood ran cold once I caught glimpses of my reflection on its glass windows. Gone was the dark hue of my long hair - I was now fair haired. My lips were thinner. My teeth: smaller and less sharp. And my skin was white instead of the rich green that boasted my orc ancestry.

With a mix of disgust and curiosity, I brought the tips of my golden hair up to my nose and sniffed it. My fingers toyed with its limp structure. Inspecting my arms, I squinted at the pink grazes and scrapes marking my tender skin.

Not only had the witch from the woods deceived me. She'd also cursed me with the face of my enemy.

I vowed to kill her, should we ever meet again. Which we would.

"You! Mortal, over there!" I pointed at a human male who was walking past me. "Tell me the name of this land!"

He kept walking as though he hadn't heard me.

I tried seeking the help of other humans strolling along the path, but most ignored me. Some gave me foul looks, and held their offspring close. Others smiled at my misfortune.

The sun was shining but this was no paradise. And its inhabitants were potentially more heartless than the orcs or the fae.

Behind me a tall building loomed. Slowly, I looked up and read the gold lettering near its triangular roof:

THE ROYAL LONDON HOSPITAL

An unpleasant sensation jabbed at the wall of my stomach, causing me to bend over. I clutched my midsection and gagged. The nausea was unbearable. What....?

I vomited up everything I'd eaten over the course of the last day.

My feet were showered with gooey raw meat, shredded plants and a tell-tale purple glow.