Page 16 of Bound to the Orc Hunter

He growls, his hand tightening on my stomach, sending my whole world topsy-turvy once again as my body reacts.

Why do I have a feeling I left certainty far behind me and I’m not getting back to it anytime soon?

We stop for lunch—or more like brunch considering I had no breakfast—in a small clearing with a patch of sun-warmed grass ringed by blueberry bushes.

Aurora stops in front of one of them and lips at a cluster of berries. “This bush is mine. Find your own.”

Branikk laughs. “There’s plenty to go around.”

“Humph.” The unicorn snorts and tossed her mane. “You’re not the one who has to run all day carrying not one buttwopeople and all of theirthingson your back.”

“Have all the blueberries you like, my friend. One bush will be enough for us.” Branikk slides to the ground. “And look. I ease you of your burden.”

“Youarequite heavy, you great mass of muscle.”

He smiles, wide and charming. “Which is why I’m blessed to have such a strong mount.”

She snorts and snaps up another cluster of dark-blue berries.

I try to dismount, wincing as my inner thighs protest.

“I’ve got you.” His big hands hold me, lifting me down as easily as he lifted me up, making me aware of his size and strength all over again. Even if he made them in a gym, his muscles are no joke. I’m far from light.

“Thanks.”

He takes my hand and gives a little squeeze.

I can’t hide my wince as a jolt of pain spears from my palm.

He turns my hand over. “You’re hurt!”

“Yeah, I think the birds got me a couple of times.”

His eyes sharpen, roving over my arms as he turns them to see everything. “I was so focused on the idea of broken bones earlier that I overlooked these.”

“They’re not that bad.” Honestly, I cut myself worse at work a lot of the time.

Branikk digs into a saddlebag and pulls out a pack, then leads me over to a fallen log. Once I sit, he crouches in front of me and wets a white cloth with water from a leather waterskin. His touch is gentle as he uses it to wash my hand. It comes away tinted pink with blood, but when he wets it again, it turns instantly white.

I open my mouth to ask, but know what he’ll say—it’s magic. My head already feels like it’s going to explode from all the new stuffed inside, so I let it drop.

But I can’t ignore his touch or the way he studies my arm so intently as he dabs delicately at one of the wounds. When has anyone taken care of me like this? Not since I was a small child. I grew into my height young. It made my early teen years nothing but teasing from the other kids, especially the boys I was taller than. It also made adults treat me differently, like I was older than my years, and Mom and Dad had never been that affectionate to begin with. They love me—they’re just emotionally undemonstrative, like a lot of Scandinavian Minnesotans. I thought it was normal until I started to work the carnival and saw lots of different types of family interactions. I always ached a little inside at the really happy ones, the ones who gave lots of hugs and affection, wishing I had one like that.

Branikk works with the cloth until my hands and arms are clean, then pulls out a small pot of salve. It’s a green almost as colorful as his skin, and it fills the air with an herbal smell. His touch is amazingly gentle as he dabs the palm of my hand with salve before pressing a small piece of bandage over top.

Over and over, he takes care of me, each soft touch melting a piece of my heart. A part of me doesn’t even care if this is an act. It’s just too nice to have someone show this much concern.

When he’s done, he gives me water to drink. I don’t know what I expected—probably something a little weird tasting from being in the leather waterskin—but it’s sweet and clean and refreshing.

“I’m sorry lunch is travel rations,” he says, offering me a light brown disk that looks like a thick cookie. “I’ll hunt for dinner, but I want to get farther away from where the sluagh found you before we stop for that long.”

I take a nibble, the flavor kind of like a nutty cracker. “It’s not bad. I’ve eaten worse.”

“Don’t worry. My village has lots of good food, even human food, now that Olivia’s with us.” At my puzzled look, he continues. “She’s the first human witch brought to Alarria. She can conjure, like you, only she makes food. Especially pizza.”

My stomach growls, and suddenly the hardtack isn’t quite as yummy as before, but I take another bite. “So there are other human women here.” I mean, of course there are. I guess that’s an easy way to not have to dress everyone up as an orc.

“There’s also Ashley, who can fly, and Taylor, who moves things with her mind.” He uses one of his tusks to bite off a large chunk of his dried biscuit.

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