Page 70 of Bound to the Orc Hunter

“I need the other net gun and net cartridges.”

Branikk stands. “I’ll get it.”

“Take these with you?” I scoop up the original bubbler and shove both into his hands. “If proximity affects my magic, I need the things I want to make near me.”

He nods and strides off, crouching to enter the tunnel that leads to our den. Even though he’s a foot taller than me, he’s still faster at getting around. His eyes see hella better in the dark than mine.

“Alas, we will also be unable to work the toy once you’re gone.” Rune stares at his paws. “I’ve never known what it is to have hands. My people lost the ability to shift before I was born, but this is the first time I’ve wanted them.”

“We’ll come up with something,” I say, longing to fix the problem.

Branikk returns and hands me the net gun. I don’t know what he reads in my expression, but he grips my shoulder and says, “You can do this. I know you can.”

I nod and close my eyes. Holding the gun in my left, I extend my right hand palm up and wish for another net gun.

Weight, even heavier than the bubbler, lands in my empty hand. My eyes snap open to see the second net gun right as Branikk whoops, “See! I knew you could do it!”

I smile, my own happiness and his admiration warming me through and through. “Now for more nets.”

He takes the guns from me and hands me a cartridge. I repeat the process over and over until there’s a mound of them a good two feet high. I keep pushing and pushing, getting a little woozy.

Then Branikk’s hands are on my shoulders. “Stop, Grace. You need to rest.”

I open my eyes, blinking up at him.

He drops the two cartridges I hold on to the stack and wraps an arm around my shoulders to lead me over to the shade of the trees. After settling me on a log, he returns with a waterskin and makes me drink.

Rune trots over to rest his head on my lap. “That was truly a sight to behold, my lady.”

“What did I tell you about calling me that?”

“I cannot help it. It seems quite apt when you do great feats of magic.”

I scratch around his ears. “Great feats, huh?”

“The greatest,” Branikk says, his gaze full of admiration. He picks up my right hand and kisses my palm, right where I made everything appear. “You were amazing.”

My heart skips. A gal sure could get used to this!

Since we need to shoot a net gun to free the nets we want to turn into bags, Branikk decides the perfect way to do this is to have me do target practice. We try to do it in front of the dens, but the puppies won’t stop chasing after the flying nets, and I don’t want to accidentally hurt one of them. So Branikk takes me to a small clearing not that far away and sets up a target by shoving a toadstool onto a tall stake.

Unfortunately, all my skills still fall off at any distance greater than six feet.

“I don’t understand why you can only fire successfully at such close range,” he says when I miss the target… again.

“I told you. Carnival games are all fairly small and contained. There isn’t room to make the games bigger, and it makes people feel like the games will be easier to win.” I heft the empty net gun. “And this thing is harder than something that shoots a small, hard projectile. The nets are too heavy to fly straight. They start to drop pretty quickly after they leave the nozzle.”

“Which is why you account for it when you angle the gun.”

“Yeah, well, that’s easier said than done.”

Though you wouldn’t know it watching him shoot. He hits the target perfectly, over and over, his net wrapping around the toadstool every damned time. Branikk likes to say his wood magic helps his arrows fly true, and maybe it does. But these nets have no wood in them, so he’s also good at doing all the physics calculations of angles and things on the fly.

“Come. I’ll show you how it feels.” He slots a new net cartridge into my gun, then steps around behind me. He wraps around my back, pulling me to him until our bodies mold together. “Feel what I do.”

“Okay.” It comes out as a whisper.

“Point the gun like you think will work,” he says, his breath hot on my ear.

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