Alien Orc’s Prize (Starlight Brides)

7. Luna

CHAPTER 7

LUNA

S poiler alert: Prince Gal did indeed show up for dinner.

But one look at him had me almost wishing he hadn’t.

I’d only seen two orc males up close so far. One was intimidatingly-big-but-smiley Padreth. The other was a slightly-less-big, old and quiet orc who poured what looked and smelled to be some kind of fizzy alcohol into the goblet before me at my seat between the two princesses.

Neither of those men could possibly have prepared me for him.

He was bigger than the old orc serving the drinks. Bigger than Padreth.

Bigger than any other male I’d ever seen.

Prince Gal shoved open the hall’s door with a hammer-like fist, practically punching it, as if the heavy wood had offended him just by being in his way. The movement made muscles jump and bunch along his bare arm, taut beneath his deep green hide. The heavy, corded line of his arm led up into a shoulder more akin to a big slab of stone than a workable joint. His torso was covered with a garment that was a cross between a tight, sleeveless tunic and a vest. Dark leather was stretched to its absolute limits over a barrel-like chest, as was the leather hugging itself desperately against the truly massive girth of the man’s trunk-like thighs. I contemplated saying a little prayer for those beleaguered pants because they truly looked like they weren’t long for this world.

The prince moved into the space like a predator. Not the sort of predator who stalks and prowls in the shadows, quietly sneaking up on prey. But like the kind of predator who’s so big, so powerful, he doesn’t care who hears him. Doesn’t care who scents or sees him. Because it doesn’t fucking matter. Two ornate blades swung at his belt, and his hard boots thundered over the stone as he entered the hall.

Real top-of-the-food-chain energy. It would have been impressive in a stay-far-away-from-me-and-we’ll-get-along-just-fine sort of way.

If I weren’t now married to him.

But married, we were. And I was in this to win this. I wasn’t turning back. There was nothing to turn back to. Unless I wanted to admit to Lyric that I was wrong and that her helpless baby sister needed looking after once again.

No way.

So instead of shrinking down into my seat and trying to avoid eye contact with the royal behemoth who’d just entered the hall, I swallowed my nerves, took a shaky breath, and lurched up to my feet.

The terrible drumbeat of those boots instantly halted. Silence snapped through the air like a whip.

I wrenched my gaze up to my new husband’s face.

My breath caught.

Much like his body, his face was a brutal marvel. Imposing and broad and severe. His jaw was square and hard, his tusks knee-weakeningly sharp and red, his cheekbones high and cutting. Rugged black slashes settled heavily over his eyes. Eyes that were much darker than his sisters.

Eyes that landed on me and didn’t move away. Didn’t even blink.

Heat rushed up my neck. My palms went damp.

My vocal cords, which had been decently dependable up until that moment, decided they had better things to do and hightailed it the hell out of there. Maybe for good.

All I could do was stand there and stare at him, cheeks reddening, hands sweating, breathing way too hard to be remotely considered attractive, and thinking, Well… Now what?