Page 20 of Bound to the Orc Hunter

“So you want to be stung by a bee,” he says as he lifts me down.

“What? No!”

“Good.” He smirks, looking sinfully handsome. “I’m not sure I can produce a bee on demand.”

“I can find you one,” Aurora says.

“You want an excuse to eat flowers.” Branikk waves his arm toward the meadow, the tall grass dotted with blue and pink flowers.

“As if I need an excuse to eat flowers.” She snorts, and her skin flinches on her back like she’s got an itch. “Now, get this saddle off me.”

Branikk laughs and does as she asks, his clever fingers quickly unfastening the buckle. Then he stands in a fluid movement, lifting the saddle and saddlebags from her as if they weigh nothing.

My waist tingles, remembering how effortlessly he keeps lifting me. God, the sheer strength of him is sexy as hell.

I turn away from Branikk and his distractingeverything, focusing on the view in front of me. The sun’s setting over the trees to the far left, sending slanting bands of gold light across the open space, the sky overhead turning a brilliant orange and pink. A last few birds sing out, fluttering through the air as they fly to their night perches. A gentle breeze cools my face, bringing the clean scent of pine.

I don’t know where I am, but it’s so beautiful I almost don’t care.

“I will hunt now.” Branikk sets down the saddle and packs.

“Can I help?” I’ve never hunted a single day in my life, but I also hate the thought of him doing all the work while I do nothing. Though for all I know, he’s going to walk off set for an hour of movie-star pampering and return with an animal one of the producers prepared for him.

“Gather wood for a fire, and clear a three-foot spot of grass.” He pulls out a knife in a sheath and hands it to me. “You can use this.”

It’s a foot long, a good half of that blade. It’s got to be a hunting knife. I wiggle it in the air. “Won’t you need this?”

“I have another.” He pulls out an even longer one.

Just how many weapons does this guy carry? The costume department must have been working overtime when they did him.

“Don’t stray too far into the woods. Make sure Aurora can get to you quickly if anything happens.” He raises his voice and calls out to her. “Watch out for Grace for me?”

She lifts her head from grazing. “Of course.”

I catch his arm as he starts to turn away. “What do you mean by ‘anything’?”

“The sluagh aren’t our only enemies. Many will have seen the Moon Goddess brighten the sky last night and will come looking for the sky gift.” At my puzzled frown, he adds, “You’re the sky gift, Grace. They’ll want you.”

I stare at the spot where he disappears into the trees for long moments. Enemies? Exactly what kind of reality TV show is this? Are they going full fantasy adventure? Shit. Clearly, I should have paid attention to more than Henry Cavill’s butt when I watchedWitcher.

They’re not going to actually hurt me, right? They can’t—I didn’t sign any waivers or anything. But what if I’m not in the US anymore? What if they flew me to some country without a lot of laws, where the locals are all too happy to have Hollywood money flow into their economy? Or what if there was something in my employment contract that gave Stanley the rights to offer me up for something like this? It would be just like the carnival boss. Anything to make a buck.

I take out my frustration on some grass, gouging the knife into the ground and prying up chucks of the heavily rooted greenery. The fresh green smell of it mixes with that of rich dirt.

“Stop wasting it unnecessarily,” Aurora says from right behind me. Her horn bats at my shoulder until I scoot out of the way. She rips up a large mouthful of grass and grinds it between her jaws.

How the hell did they get a horse to come over and help me like this? Who’s controlling it?

Aurora’s horn flashes in the last of the sunshine as she dips her head again.

“Can I touch it?” I point.

“Go ahead.” She sounds grumpy but leaves her head down as she chews.

It’s hard and slick instead of feeling porous, like bone, and my fingertips follow one of the whirls as it spirals around. “What are the grooves for?”

“To channel blood.”

---