Page 22 of Bound to the Orc Hunter

CHAPTER TEN

Branikk

All my earlier determination to go slow and thoroughly woo my bride flees at the thought of sharing a tent with her. How am I to resist such temptation? Especially when she smells so amazing? Her scent goes straight to my cock, stirring it to aching awareness.

Thankful for keen eyesight even in low light, I gaze down at her. The deep vee of her shirt offers the most alluring glimpse of her skin. I want to hook my tusks in the cloth and peel it from her glorious breasts.

“You can call me Grace.” She lifts her chin and steps away from me. “We’renotsleeping together.”

“I only have one tent.” I point to it. “If you want separate accommodations, you’re more than welcome to conjuresomething.” I should offer to sleep outside, away from her. But I don’t. I won’t bed her unless she wants it, but I also won’t squander any opportunity to be near her. And I do only have one set of sleeping furs.

“Fine.” Her wide mouth presses into a flat line, her eyes flashing with a fire that only makes me want her more. She raises her hands and stares at the ground beside the tent for several seconds before letting out a huff of air. “It’s not working.”

The crystal nestling between her breasts remains dark. I point to it. “Maybe if you hold it and speak your wish aloud? I’ve seen the other witches do that.” Taylor and Krivoth told me all about her training sessions when she first learned her powers.

Grace grips her necklace in one hand and extends the other. “I wish for something to sleep in.”

Magic tingles in the air, like the feeling right before a lightning strike, and a filmy piece of cloth pops into existence draped over my bride’s outstretched hand.

She holds it up. It’s a light pink sheath of sheer material thinner than any silk I’ve ever seen.

I rub it between my thumb and forefinger. “It’s so soft. What is it?”

“A negligee.” She glares at it and then into the surrounding woods, raising her voice. “This isnotwhat I meant by wanting something to sleep in.”

“Who are you talking to?”

“God, not this again. Can we call it a day and stop with all the pretending?” She flutters a hand at me. “Don’t you need to take the makeup off or something?”

“Makeup?”

“Cosmetics.”

“Are you saying I’m attractive?” I step closer. “I promise you that nothing about me is elfin glamour. This is my true face and form.”

She swallows, her eyes going wide. Then my moon bound shakes her head and takes a step back. “We’ll share the tent.” She balls the transparent fabric up in one hand and crawls into the tent. “But no touching.”

Leaving my bow and arrows outside on top of the saddlebags, I follow, laying my sword against the tent wall, out of our way but in easy reach. I remove my boots, then reach for hers.

She flinches when my hand brushes her calf, her human eyes wide and unseeing in the dark. “I said no touching! What are you doing?”

“Making you more comfortable. Nothing more.” My fingers figure out the unusual closures and pull her boots free.

We lie on the furs on our sides, facing each other. Her scent already fills the space, and my cock hardens fully, demanding to claim her. I suppress a groan.

I finally have my bride on my furs, and I can’t touch her without making her even more wary.

Goddess, it’s going to be a long night.

I come awake instantly, my ears straining to detect what sound woke me. Long years of lone camping during hunting trips have honed my senses until I can sleep while maintaining a basic awareness of my surroundings. Only in the comfort of my village do I allow myself the full rest of true oblivion. I have even more reason to be wary now. Have ogres found us, looking for my precious bride?

The first hint of dawn light filters through the leather of the tent walls. The loud call of an owl greeting its mate echoesthrough the forest in a mix of short and long hoots, who-who-who-whoooo-whoooo.

My muscles relax, allowing me to finally notice a much more pleasurable sensation. Grace sleeps pressed to my side. We’ve moved toward each other in the night. Her long legs rest against mine, her head on my outflung arm.

The low light brings the first bit of color to her golden hair, strands of it escaping her bun to cover her face.

As gently as possible, I tuck them behind her ear so I can see her face. How different she looks in sleep, brow smooth, golden lashes feathering her cheeks, wide mouth soft, her lips gently parted. Her face appears so relaxed and peaceful it makes me realize exactly how tense and uncomfortable she was all yesterday, and I hate that she’s felt that way. I must put her at ease, even if it means denying myself what I most want—her, truly in my furs.

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