Page 3 of Bound to the Orc Hunter

And there’s nothing I can do to fix this ride now. We’ll need to wait until after closing and take the whole thing apart. I stretch upward to peer at the specific parts involved, shifting a few cables to try to get a better view. God, do we even have replacement parts for this thing?

“Did you get it fixed?” Calvin calls from below. “I need to start the ride.”

“No, I can’t fix it!” I yell down. Anger and hurt thrum in my voice. “When was the last time you lubed all the joins?”

“Hey, don’t be like that! I did it last week, right on schedule.”

It’s got to be another lie, and I’m going to prove it so that I know once and for all if I can trust him. I slip a wrench out of my pocket and start to take apart the nearest join so I can check inside for grease.

The wrench isn’t perfect for the job. It really takes some kind of fancy one that bends at a thirty-degree angle halfway down the handle. But it wasn’t in the toolbox below, and I know better than to ask Calvin if he knows where the special wrench is.

One good thing about my build is I’m strong. With a little grunt, I loosen the first two bolts, muttering, “I wish I could make any tool I wanted.” The right tools make any job one-thousand times easier.

Music starts to play, a pretty tune with bells and strings that doesn’t sound anything like the canned pop tunes the ride usually plays, and bright light flicks on behind me. Why did Calvin put special music and lights up here if he’s not coming up to do the work? I shrug. At least one thing he did is helping me for a change.

As the next bolt finally starts to shift, there’s a hum of electricity from below and a metallic clunk.

My heart lurches in my chest as an icy bolt of adrenaline goes through me. He’s started the ride!

“Calvin!” I yell. “Turn it off! I’ve got parts loose up here!”

But he’s not down below. And the regular wrench is too awkward to get all the bolts retightened quickly.

The equipment in front of me comes to life with a metallic squeal, and the arm of the join I worked on tears free. As the central drum spins, the arm whips toward my head.

I flinch backward, and my foot lands on air.

Oh, god. Oh, god! A scream tears from me as I start to fall. I’m going to die. I don’t want to die!

The beautiful music rises to a crescendo, and I fall into white light.

CHAPTER TWO

Branikk

The meaty sound of fists hitting flesh greets me as soon as I open the door of the communal baths. Damp heat coats my face the moment I step inside, and I drop my clean clothes onto a nearby bench to free my hands.

Krivoth grunts as Sturrm punches him in the stomach, but my friend delivers a sharp uppercut that slams Sturrm’s jaws together with a clack of teeth and tusks.

They’re fairly evenly matched, since both orcs are the usual seven-feet tall and heavily muscled. Sturrm’s about a decade older but still in his prime, as is clearly shown since he’s fully nude, his long black hair clinging wet to his wide green back.

Krivoth’s still dressed in a gold linen shirt and brown leather boots and pants, his hair still bound in a warrior’s braid.

Numerous people line the long rectangular pool that runs the length of the main room, all watching the fight with eager eyes.

Orcs brawl. It’s simply part of our nature. But we do so in the village green or in the pub after a pint too many—not in the bathhouse, which is supposed to be a place to relax.

“Okay, break it up.” I get hold of each of their shoulders and shove. “This isn’t the place.”

“It’s the perfect place,” Sturrm growls, glaring at Krivoth. “Hethinks he’s too good to bathe with the rest of us.”

My friend bares his tusks. “If you think I’m letting you look at my moon bound bride naked—”

The door behind me opens, and Taylor’s voice says, “Krivoth, what’s happening?” She hurries into the room, a thin human almost two feet shorter than her husband. Her skin’s tan instead of green, her shoulder-length hair brown instead of black, but my friend looks at her as if she’s the most beautiful woman in all the realms of Faerie.

“Nothing important.” He shoots Sturrm a warning glance and gathers his bride to him, hurrying her along to the door at the other end of the room that leads to a smaller, private hot spring.

Taylor’s one of only three humans currently in Alarria, and since the human world was cut off from Faerie three-hundred years ago, we’ve got a lot to learn about each other’s cultures. They definitely don’t seem to be as comfortable with nudity as orcs.

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