Page 79 of Bound to the Orc Hunter

Nothing matters but Grace.

I need to tell her what she means to me. Even more so, I need to show her she is loved. If it takes a lifetime to convince her, then a lifetime it will be. Every day, I will give her all the happy, peaceful moments I can. Every night, I will satiate her with passion. She will know she is treasured.

My bride will know she ismine.

A wound on the back of her neck weeps blood, and rage burns in my chest.

I slide to a halt beside her and snarl, “You dare to touch her? You dare to hurt my bride?”

“I will do far more than touch her.” The sluagh laughs, the sound made up of a multitude of voices.

My moon bound willnotjoin its victims.

“I will feast,” it hisses.

“Like fuck, you will.” I swing, my sword slicing through its center.

It breaks apart into its flock, one bird disappearing on my blade’s edge. But the rest of them come back together to make the soul stealer anew. “You cannot defeat me, orc. But I will enjoy watching you wear yourself down in the attempt. Then I will feast upon you, too.”

I strike again to make the sluagh break apart. In those split seconds it takes to reform, I quickly say, “Grace, can you make a bigger net gun?”

Her expressive mouth twists. “Maybe?”

“You can. I know you can.” My voice rings with conviction as I point to the reforming soul stealer. “Net it for me.”

Magic shivers through the air, and my moon bound holds a net gun three times the size of the one I’m familiar with. Its size would overwhelm a smaller person, but my bride is built strong. She points, aiming the barrel just a bit higher exactly as I taught her. With a deep whomp, the net shoots from the nozzle, opening in the air like a gigantic spider web. The heavy white strands wrap around the sluagh.

“Fools.” It laughs again. “I’m not some individual bird. This net won’t subdue me. I still have my free will.”

I leap forward, reaching around to twist the edges of the net tight, trapping the vile fae. “Who said I wanted you to lose your free will?” I plunge my sword into the soul stealer’s chest. “I want you to feel every second of this.”

It tries to break apart into a flock to get away from my blade. But the net prevents it.

“Now who’s the fool?” My lips pull back from my tusks. I strike again and again. “How dare you hurt my bride!”

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

Grace

God, he’sglorious.

I should probably be horrified to watch Branikk’s sword cut into the sluagh over and over. I’m sure etiquette people would sniff their snooty noses and tell me it’s not “lady like.”

Fuck that noise.

“You will never touch her again,” Branikk snarls, his sword punching forward.

The sluagh tries to break apart, over and over, but it does no good. Its creepy face crawls, feathers pushing constantly to the surface. Its red eyes glare as it snaps its red shark teeth at Branikk, who doesn’t even flinch.

“She is precious,” Branikk says, striking again. “She’s a gift to this world and to me.”

Oh. My tummy goes all fluttery, my lips quivering. To hear him say that about me…

“You will never ever touch her, hurt her.” Branikk’s sword flashes forward. “She ismine.”

The sluagh shrieks with the next strike, and it sounds like pain.

Good. It deserves it.

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