Page 76 of Bound to the Orc Hunter

“Here they come!” Drake yells. He roars a burst of fire at the first birds to dive toward us. They char to an ash that falls like black snow, melting to nothing before it hits the ground.

More birds follow, and the dragon can’t burn this batch, so the fight is on. The orcs and wolves battle to bring down the first set of birds. With nothing to bag yet, I don’t have anything to do in those first few moments but watch my husband.

Branikk shoots, knocking bird after bird out of the sky, slapping new cartridges in faster than I ever thought possible.

Dravarr uses his net gun as well, and he’s good—especially for someone who didn’t get to practice—but he’s not Branikk.

Then there’s no more time. The first of the wolves runs up to me, a struggling bird trapped in its mouth. I open a net bag andpull it closed as soon as the bird is in, knotting the excess string then tying it to Aurora’s saddle.

Over and over, working as fast as I can, I bag bird after bird, some caught from the air by the wolves, some tangled in nets from the guns. But even with Ashley’s help, I’m nowhere near fast enough.

But that’s good! Everyone’s catching and subduing lots of sluagh. Our plan is working.

Even though I can still feel the creepiest of the assholes somewhere near, I start to hope. The thing’s clearly a coward, having already fled twice from previous fights. It won’t come down for me if the soul stealers are losing. Everything’s fine.

Then a brown shape falls from the sky, moving faster even than a diving bird. It bursts into an orange cloud right behind Drake, and Branikk bellows, “Ware the deathsleep!”

Deathsleep. Fuck.

I’m pretty sure anything with the word “death” in it is hella bad.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Branikk

We’re doing it! We’re besting the vile soul stealers! The net guns my bride created are amazing, shooting birds out of the sky to fall in a tangle of feathers and red beaks and net. I remind myself to stay on guard. The rest of the flock remains active until a cu sith gathers up the bird I just shot down, but as soon as they do, it’s another whole flock subdued.

Soon the air over Aurora is the darkest of all, as one captured bird after another is hung from her saddle, the similarly trapped flocks filling the air right above her, like a storm cloud caught in a bottle. The birds wheel about, each jockeying for position in a space growing ever more crowded.

“Why do they keep coming?” Dravarr asks. “They must see how we capture them.”

“I don’t know.”

Drake incinerates another batch of birds. He can only do so every ten minutes because he has to recharge his magic. But he’ll still be a big help once we capture all the sluagh. We can take each flock one by one and let him dispose of them.

I shoot another bird from the sky, my blood humming with battle lust, the taste of victory already sweet in my mouth.

And it’s all because of my bride and her fantastic creations.

I catch sight of her, her strong hands amazingly quick as she ties a bag closed and adds it to the mass dangling from Aurora’s saddle, only to turn and do it again and again.

She’s amazing. Her net bags are almost even more useful than the guns.

I lift and shoot, and a netted bird plummets to the ground.

A feral grin bares my tusks at the sight.

We will win, and I will celebrate our victory by toasting my bride before everyone and letting her know I love her.

A gourd sails down from the sky, striking the ground right behind Drake to erupt in an orange cloud. Fuck. The soul stealers have resorted to their most cowardly weapon.

“Ware the deathsleep!” I yell. The herb puts all fae except the sluagh into a hundred-year coma. We have an antidote now, thanks to the dragons and my friend Krivoth, but it still allows sluagh to incapacitate an enemy for long enough to steal all of that person’s life force.

My cry comes too late. The vile herb catches the dragon teen by surprise. He has no fire because he’d already used it all, and the cloud billows around him while he’s mid launch.

Drake’s wings flap once, lifting his head above the cloud. But his golden eyes shut, and he disappears from view with a heavy thud. By the time the wind thins the cloud enough to see him again, he’s slumped on top of the hill, his wings outspread, completely unconscious.

Another gourd drops at the other end of the clearing, the heavy orange cloud incapacitating several cu sith.

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