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

CHAPTER XXV

VULTOG

Rayna was in peril.

But I had no clue how to assess the severity of the danger she was in, other than reading her texted message for the thousandth occasion.

RAYNA

Masachi's here. Acting weird.

In a relatively short timespan, I had come to know Rayna very well. She was a conscientious woman. As much as I wanted to march over to the Bank of England right this instance and raid the premises, I knew I could not. She would never forgive me for doing so.

If our unplanned luncheon date had taught me anything, it was that Rayna was warming up to me considerably. That she had shared secrets about her time in foster care, and even given me a piano performance, showed much closer we were becoming. Her pride had prevented her from speaking her true feelings aloud, but she had a craving for me too. During our delayed goodbye, the whirlpool effect of her large brown eyes, and the innocent flick of her tongue against my thumb had told all.

ME

Do you need me?

Do you need my assistance?

Please respond to me at your earliest convenience.

Hello.

In the last hour, all of my attempts at contacting Rayna had gone unanswered. Calling would get me the same results. For now, I was waiting albeit reluctantly.

As a final course of action, I rang Juno. The line bonged with an annoying stutter, but I remained hopeful. Surely, Juno could put aside her anger with me and infer that I was contacting her because of an emergency.

The noise stopped and a bored sigh shivered at the other end of the phone device.

"Lady Juno! It is I, Vultog–"

"You've reached Juno," her pre-recorded voice droned. "Leave a message. Can't promise I'll get back to ya though...unless your name is 'Vultog'. I can definitely promise ya, ya dead to me!"

"Mate? What are you doing back here?" Robb, the ginger-haired barman of Sigrid's, popped his head into the backroom. Whilst the pub was swarming with customers, I had ducked inside to check on my phone. "We've got a couple of lads looking for Harald The Harbinger."

"He is on the way..." Hanging up and stuffing my phone into my costume pocket, I drew my prop-sword from my scabbard with an exaggerated motion. I paraded past Robb, and through the archway leading to the pub's bustling front room.

"Don't worry, she'll text you back, mate." Robb gave my shoulder a pat. "She was proper smitten."

"I bring fear, and I bring fury!" I roared, pumping the flimsy plastic sword at my disposal up in the air. The shape of it was still exotic to me, as clubs were the weapon of choice for orcs. Although, truth be told, I couldn't speak on behalf of the warriors.

Having heard me recite the famous line from the Viking film series, a tsunami of bellows charged the room. My rallying cry to the franchise's fans was met with raised glasses, foamy ale spilling over the rims of jugs, hands slapping tables, feet stomping and bated breath.