Page 23 of Bound to the Orc Hunter

Yet I’m not an expert hunter for nothing. Haste means missed shots and empty bellies, a lack of furs on a cold night. A good hunter learns the patience to stalk his prey, to strike when the time is right.

I will hunt her, stalk her, charm her every moment, night and day, until she craves me as much as I desire her.

Her beautiful blue eyes blink open, still hazy with dream.

“Good morning,” I say.

They focus, locking onto mine, and her body tenses. I still hate it, but I have a plan.

Instead of allowing her to shy away from me, I move first, gently pulling my arm from under her and rolling up to sitting. “Are you ready for breakfast?”

Then I’m out of the tent and shoving my feet into my boots. I set out the cleaning cloth and waterskin for her before gathering wood for another fire.

By the time she joins me at the edge of the meadow, I hand her a pewter mug of mint tea.

We sit side by side on a log, hands wrapped around our warm drinks, looking out as the first rays of sunshine bathe the grass in bright green. There’s a noticeable lack of bluebells and red clover on this side of the meadow, Aurora having eaten her fill. As grumpy as my friend always acts, it’s endlessly amusing how much she likes sweet berries and flowers.

Meadow larks emerge from their barrows to flutter up into the air, their sweet songs, greeting the sun.

I always enjoy the quiet beauty of nature when I’m by myself, but I’m also a people person. It’s strange to sit quietly like this when with someone else. Yet I remind myself that good stalking requires lulling my prey. I will let my bride speak first, let her come to me.

She takes a drink, then gestures with her mug toward the view. “It’s beautiful here. Where are we?”

“I’m not sure it has a name,” I say. “We’re off the edge of the known maps.”

“Huh. I thought it might be Hungary. I think they film parts ofWitcherthere.”

“You’re hungry?” Latching onto the one word that stands out, I pull out the hard biscuits of travel rations and the bag of blueberries I picked for her the day before. “I can’t wait to get you back to the village. Our baker makes some of the finest bread you’ve ever eaten.”

Grace shoots me a bemused look but takes the food. “This is fine.”

It’s not. I’m used to eating like this on longer hunting trips, but I wish I had better to offer her. How am I to woo my bride if I can’t show her I think she’s special? I’ll have to find other ways.

I pour her more tea, my hand cupping hers to hold her mug steady. I offer her blueberries straight from my fingers. I touch her as much as possible, in little ways that seem innocent.

They aren’t.

I have the sweetest of prey in my sights.

I will not lose.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Grace

If I thought the Branikk of yesterday was attractive, the Branikk of today is irresistible. Every time I look up, he’s there, watching me, his eyes drinking in my every move. He feeds me, he makes me tea, and he hands me things before I even know I want them.

And dear god, he keeps touching me, these little brushes of his fingers that he doesn’t even seem to notice. But I do. Oh, god, how I do. By the time we’re done with breakfast, my entire body hums with need. Bad body!

It’s getting harder and harder to remember all of this is a lie. Or maybe I’m too tired to care, too tired of keeping my guard up.

Too tired of being alone.

Waking up curled up against another person for the first time in my life must have short-circuited my brain, because a roll in the hay with a gorgeous guy might be worth any consequences. The way his legs felt against mine, the sound of another’s breaths, the scent of man and leather and pine, the solidpresenceof him beside me—I’ve never felt anything like it.

Don’t be stupid, my inner snark cuts across my daydream, snapping me back to reality. He’s not going to sleep with me. He’ll string me along until they capture me on camera throwing myself at him. I’ve seen enough reality TV to know if I give in, they’ll punk me on air and I’ll be a laughingstock everywhere I go foryears.

I can picture Calvin sniggering at me, first for being fooled by him and then for making an even bigger fool of myself on whatever show this is.

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