Page 51 of The Savage Vow
“These past few days, you’ve been working something fierce. What happen? Your girlfriend leave you?” He snorted.
She remained silent, not wanting to test him. His gaze lingered on her in a way that made her skin crawl.
“You keep working the way you are, maybe I’ll let you take a day off.”
He stalked over to the door. Relief filled her that he was leaving. The shop was always quieter and calmer when he was gone.
“Make sure you lock up,” he tossed over his shoulder. He didn’t wait for her to reply.
The door slammed behind him, and she finally breathed a sigh of relief. She waited a long moment before moving just in case he doubled back.
The last customer left the store not too long after Yambul. She closed down the shop as she always did. She bolted the front door and went to the shutters. The street had grown quieter than usual.
It was too silent.
There should be others from the neighboring storefronts shutting down and leaving. She leaned forward and stared through the window. There was no one out there. Maybe it was just her nerves. She lowered the shutters and walked through the shop one last time to ensure it was cleaned.
She gathered her satchel and left the store. She locked the door and froze. The hairs on the back of her neck rose. She turned slowly once she’d pulled the key out and tucked it into her bag. Down the street, half shadowed underneath the overhang of a fabric store, stood three orcs.
They were large, even by orc standards, each broad-shouldered with thick necks. Their tusks caught the fading light when they turned their heads. They weren’t doing anything. Just stood there.
Watching her.
A cold sense of dread filled her.
Orlena had never really been scared to walk home before. Not like this. The village had its dangers, but she knew which streets to avoid, who she could trust. Tonight, something twisted in her gut.
She almost had the sense that she should run and hide.
But she couldn’t go back in the shop and stay there all right. Yambul would notice if she had slept there. He’d complain that it was not an inn but a place of business.
So she inhaled and took her first step.
She tightened her fingers around the strap of her satchel. She walked and kept a steady pace. She fiercely wished that she had a weapon. Her job was full of bows and arrowheads sharp enoughto pierce armor, but she carried none of them. No dagger. No knife. She wasn’t as proficient with a blade as she was a bow but could improvise if the situation called for her to.
Now would be that time.
She’d learn really quick how to wield a blade.
Nargol always had some form of a weapon on her. Orlena thought of her orc. She had hidden blades all over her along with the dagger she kept on her waist or her bow on her back.
The female orc was always alert, relaxed, and had a deadly air to her.
Why would that be if she were a nomad?
A woman with no home.
Who was she really?
Orlena had watched how Nargol moved, how she always scanned the area, how she placed her feet as if she were trained to make no noise. She reminded Orlena of the guards and warriors who served their leader, Cardu.
Except those guards scowled and growled when humans passed.
Nargol smiled.
She had a beautiful smile. Orlena sighed. The memory of how relaxed Nargol looked when her lips tweaked up. Her tusks were bright white, as were her other teeth. Her lips were plump and so soft. Orlena blinked. That wasn’t what she should be thinking of at a time like this.
She glanced over her shoulder.
