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

CHAPTER XVIII

VULTOG

When getting reacquainted with an old friend from one's schooling years, laughter and the standard orc greeting of a chest bump are the expected behaviours.

Conversely, I was dragged through the rave crowd like a rag doll and slammed into the wall of a discrete side tunnel.

My back crashed into the hard, bricked wall, conjuring pain and a reflexive squirm. Now that I was reasonably adjusted to being human, I knew my physical limits. Fighting back would be futile effort.

I hung from the meaty fists that scrunched up the open collar of my shirt, and snickered weakly. "Yakgnarth, this is no way to greet an old friend."

"How do you know my name, mortal scum?" The orc interrogated me brusquely. Residual light from the dance area reflected off of the sides of his head, and a stylish strip of coarse hair ran vertically along his scalp. A long, obsidian black cloak made him blend into the side tunnel's dimness. From his hand suspended a leash that led to his skeletal human pet.

"It is I, Vultog!"

"Punch," Yakgnarth ordered his lackey.

The restrained mortal next to Yakgnarth was malnourished, whereas the naked human woman poised to bludgeon me with her fist was humongous. My size was impressive by human means, but I was a scrap of flesh, bone, and muscle compared to the brute that shoved me into the wall.

A series of hits landed on my nose in an explosive crack. I was too stunned to make any noises. The back of my skull banged into the concrete bricks. Agony welled and a warm gush of blood burst from my nostrils.

As her knuckles swooped in on my face again, I talked speedily, "We urinated in our teacher's waterbowl then blamed it on Zonagh–"

"Pause."

The lackey-pet's fist stopped, brushing the tip of my sore nose. Such close quarters permitted me to spy the hint of green swirled into her colouring. Her oaf-ish mannerisms and gigantic proportions were better explained with this new information. She was a human-orc hybrid.

I kept going, "We were both obsessed with those twins. Remember, Borba and Bumph? So we conspired to have one orcette each. You and I cheated during our plantlife examinations by–"

"Jaw."

I groaned as the hybrid-pet forced my mouth open and weighed my tongue down with her rough thumb. Better that than being beaten to a pulp, I supposed.

Eyes twinkling with piqued interest, Yakgnarth withdrew a bundle of parchment strips from the insides of his cloak. The anecdote I'd shared was knowledge that only he and I were privy to. During our youth, we were the clowns of our tutor group, and more devoted to terrorising our teachers than learning Terraork lore.

Yakgnarth selected a narrow parchment piece and placed it on the bed of my tongue. Access to my mouth was easy, thanks to the assistance of his pet hybrid. The blood dribbling down my chin, and the saliva banked in my mouth wet the thin strip instantly.

"Vultog? What are you doing here...looking like a mortal, no less?" Yakgnarth quizzed me.

I tried to speak as clearly as possible, given the assortments in my mouth. "An unjust spell was cast on me. I've been stuck in this dunghole, trying to get back home."

The tip of the parchment glowed green.

Shadows flickered at the opening of the side tunnel. Yakgnarth stalled temporarily to visually assess who the entrants were. Rayna came running up to the site of the hostile interview, a quaking Chidimma in tow.