Fighting My Orc

Osiris’s POV

Thank fuck that visit was short. I’ve never seen my litter fighter look so... weak.

The last thing Olivia is, is weak, but the sheer narcissism from her mother was suffocating. I didn’t even give them my name. Well, those bastards didn’t even ask.

My little warrior hiccups in her sleep, and I work my hands over the knots in her shoulders. She is usually so peaceful looking when she sleeps, but not now. Not when she is compressed into tight jeans and a flimsy silk shirt.

I risk the chance of waking her up to take off her jeans. I slowly work my hands down to her zipper and begin to roll the fabric down her legs.

I have to control my urges when her ass is finally uncovered, but I continue my job dutifully until her jeans are off. She woke up for a second to shift her legs, but otherwise continues to sleep peacefully. I take her phone out from back pocket and place it on the nightstand.

Taking out my own phone to text Cassandra, I am at Olivia’s house... just met her parents.

It’s finally five thirty, and I sigh in relief when Cassandra texts back, How was it? Heading to Mom’s now.

I think for a moment. How do I respond to that? Apparently I took to long because Cassandra’s number pulls up on my phone. I accept her call and speak quietly, “Heh Cassandra.”

“Why are you whispering?”

“Olivia is sleeping,” I keep rubbing slow circles on her back, trying to keep her from waking up, “Her parents were not so accepting.”

She gasps on the line, “What do you mean? Is she still your mate after that?”

“Of course,” my voice comes out rough, and I remember to lower it, “It wasn’t just about me being an orc. It was all Olivia. How much money she makes, and how she will pay for her house. When her mom left, she told her she would look better with short hair.”

Cassandra scoffs, “They sound like narcissists.”

“That is exactly what I thought.”

“So,” Cassandra pauses and I can hear her enter Mom’s home, “how is Olivia? I mean, she had a rough night and now...”

“She cried herself to sleep,” I sigh, “she lied to them.”

“About what?”

“About how much she works as a trainer in the human sector. That she trains nearly every day a week.”

Cassandra laughs, “Obviously she doesn’t like her parents. She just told me this Friday how excited is to start training full time with us.”

My eyes widen, “She was accepted?” I look down to Olivia’s small body, and pat her back softly. That’s great fucking news. Olivia will finally train like a real orc. It takes every mentor and student to agree to add another species into full-time orc training, and my little warrior has been accepted.

Cassandra pulls me from my thoughts, “Shit. She didn’t tell you yet.”

She sounds bummed but I reprimand her, “Don’t cuss.”

“Ugh! You sound just like dad,” we laugh before she continues, “But please act like you don’t know when she tells you. She has been so excited to tell you.”

“I will. And I’ll talk to you later Cassandra.”

“Okay. I’ll see you at noon, I love you. Bye.”

“I love you too,” we end the call and I relax my back onto the headrest. Dwelling over Olivia’s reaction to her parents' visit. Orcs support each other through building and giving. Humans support each other with money.

I don’t want Olivia to start working more in the human sector. We can provide for ourselves.

My hand starts running over her soft hair again, and I really don’t want her to cut her hair. It’s orc tradition to keep long hair, so our family heirlooms could be shown to the rest of the orcs.

Olivia wore my family’s heirlooms after we had mated. She wore them for an entire week when she only had to wear them for a single day. Even the orcs in my training group noticed. Some mocking, and some admiring at my precious warrior.

The next time she will wear our heirlooms is when we complete the mating bond. To not only be known as mates but to be connected mentally as mates.

Her phone dings on the nightstand and I pick it up to see the notification. It’s a text from her mom, Your hair appointment is at noon.

I growl and have to force myself to stop when Olivia pats my arm groggily. I take deep breathes and use only one hand to rub her back.

With the other hand, I delete the message from her mom. Scrolling upwards, I am able to read all of her previous messages. Olivia would send maybe a sentence or two of a response, while he mom would send an emoji or one word response.

I then move into Contacts, and block her mom’s phone number. Fuck the consequences. She doesn’t treat Olivia like her daughter. My little warrior doesn’t deserve that.