Page 9 of Bound to the Orc Hunter

“Hey now.” She moves away from me, hands raised, alarm widening her eyes. “There’s not going to be any touching.”

“Of course there will be. There’ll be a great deal oftouching.” I smile, putting all the promise of a good mating into it, my offer to match her gift of pillows. “You’re my moon bound bride.”

Her mouth falls open, those blue eyes flashing. “I’m not going to marry you!”

“It’s too late to worry about that,” I say. A niggle of concern squirms through me. This seems like more than a playful protest. What was it the other orcs said about humans and marriages? That they do things differently? No matter. I’ll simply explain, and my bride will understand.

I take her hand and press it to my chest, right over my beating heart. “The Moon Goddess already bound us together for life. I’m your husband.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Grace

Shock freezes me in place, my whole world narrowing to nothing but the strong beat of his heart under my hand. He’s warm, even through the soft linen of his shirt. My fingers dig in a little, as if testing if his muscles are really as deliciously firm as they look. Yep, they totally are.

Already married? Husband? This gorgeous actor is my husband? My heart gives a little skip of excitement.

Then the word penetrates the daze of attraction. Actor. All of this is fake.

“That’s going too far.” I yank my hand away and spin toward the trees, raising my voice. “Okay, you got me. Great joke. I’m through playing now.”

“Who are you talking to?” The “orc” says behind me.

“The director, the camera operator, whoever.” I throw a hand out and keep turning until I face him again.

His brow pinches in what looks like genuine confusion. “I don’t know those words.”

“Sure you don’t.” God, I refuse to fall for handsome-guy bullshit ever again. Calvin almostkilledme. Pain spears my chest. I’d been so stupid, dreaming of a relationship with him, one always about to happen “soon.” All of his promises always came right when he needed help with something, designed to string me along so I’d keep doing his work for him.

I shove down the ache and focus on something else. Holding out my hands palms up, I ask, “How’d you guys make the pillows appear in real time like that?” I never watch the behind-the-scenes stuff that explains how all the movie special effects are done. I get enough insight into how things can be set up to fool people working the carnival—I like keeping the mystery alive for my favorite movies and shows.

“Magic.” A smile lights up his face as he strides over to the tall pillar of rock and sets his hands on it. “I wish for a new bow.”

Nothing happens. Is the special-effects department taking a break?

“I want a quiver of arrows.”

Still zip.

Instead of being upset, he spins to me, excitement gleaming in his dark eyes. “It’s as I thought. Only you have the magic of this standing stone, which means you’re very powerful.”

I snort in amusement. This guy’sstillkeeping his shtick going. He must have a contract with the reality TV show that says he can’t break character or something. I picture a camera crane dropping a camera onto his head and him saying, “What is this strange thing?”

Only, where are the cameras? Why can’t I see them? Is everything done with tiny drones now?

Oh! I bet the birds are the cameras. The flock still hovers overhead.

He goes over to the bouncy castle and touches one of the inflated walls. “Your magic is truly amazing. I’ve never seen anything like this.”

Then he shoots me a knowing grin and dives forward to sprawl across the floor on his side. “Ah, my bride. It seems I was wrong about the pillows. You madethisfor our wedding bed.” He gives a couple of little bounces, which make his hips move suggestively, and pats the soft surface beside him.

His gaze is sexy and admiring, and my heart joins my tummy in fluttering rapidly. My traitorous body takes half a step toward him before I jerk myself to a halt. Bad body!

I know me—my face will have shown how close I came to joining him. They’ll have caught all of that on film. I’ll be teased for years as the “chick who wanted to bang an orc.” I won’t even be able to go to the grocery store without people tittering.

Anger heats my chest. Out of all of the teasing and bullying over the years about my looks, this is the cruelest of all. “Okay, I mean it,” I tip my head back and yell. “I’m not going to play along any more. Come on out.”

“Stop yelling,” a woman’s irritated voice says from somewhere in the trees. “I’m coming.”

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