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

CHAPTER XI

...what can you show me
That my heart don't know already?
We make our own sense

The Weeknd ft Labrinth. Losers. Beauty Behind the Madness, 2015

RAYNA

"Taste this."

Vultog parked another mug of coffee on the arrangement of papers I was reading at the dining table.

"Urgh, again?" I moved the 'I'M NOT BOSSY, I'M THE BOSS' mug out of the way, to an empty patch on the wooden tabletop. The drink had left its mark–a circular brown stain–on Juno's notes.

"I can't perfect the brew without your complaints–pardon me, 'instructions'," Vultog pestered me. He'd developed a fixation on my coffee machine, and had devoted himself to making the beverage exactly how I liked it. In an ideal world, I didn't want him touching any of my property. But, I resigned myself to letting him experiment with my treasured coffee bean supply, because he was clearly in need of something else to do besides missing his home.

After nearly choking to death at the Tower of London, he was taking his domestic helper duties more seriously. In addition to that, he'd...gotten a job.

The morning after our altercation with the faerie, I'd woken up to find both Vultog and my Oyster travelcard missing. My hope that he'd run away for good vanished when he returned twenty-four hours later. He informed us that he was now employed as a Viking impersonator at some pub in Liverpool Street. They'd hired him on the spot, and were paying in cash. The circumstances of his employment sounded shady, but I wasn't concerned enough to complain.

"Fine..." I took a slow sip of Vultog's latest coffee attempt, ready to carp on about nothing. Just to get on his nerves. A bitter, rich flavour waltzed over my tongue, granting me comfort. A strong aftertaste ensued. "This...is really good?"

I scrutinised the dark brown fluid, reflecting on whether he could have laced it with something. I couldn't believe it.

Neither could he. Vultog's face brightened authentically, the masculine edges softening into a vaguely appealing shape. "Are you jesting with me?"

"You heard me fine the first time. I'm not saying it again," I grouched.

He swaggered back to the kitchen with a self-important bounce in his step. Drinking more of the delicious coffee, I resumed my review of Juno's expansive notes containing everything we'd learned about Vultog's world, Terraork.

The scales had tipped, however the distribution of weight was far from fair. I'd given him a place to stay, access to running water, money, travel and more. It was time for me to get something out of our cohabitation: knowledge about Juno and I's past.

I was also wearing the anklet again, after stashing it away for nearly a decade. Its incorporation into my daily fashion choices had nothing to do with wishes for a miracle family reunion. Vultog had a tendency to touch things that did not belong to him. He was more similar to Jack than he would ever admit.

A secretive pair of giggles sprung up from the living room sofa. Juno and her best friend, Chidimma were huddled over a mobile phone, watching internet videos.

"What's so funny?" I wanted to be in the know. Their youthful merriment made me feel ancient even though we were only eight years apart in age.

Juno cackled, "Your fight from the Tower of London's gone viral!"

"Viral? Is someone ill?" A puzzled Vultog inquired from the kitchen.

The girls laughed. They found everything Vultog said and did hilarious, and he didn't seem to mind, strangely.