Page 10 of Bound to the Orc Hunter

Ha! Iknewit. She must be the director.

Only it’s not a woman who emerges from the forest. It’s a unicorn! WT actual F?

Built like a large horse, it’s white, with a silver mane and tail. And a long spiral horn juts from its forehead, the grooves flashing silver in the sunlight. How is it attached? No anchors or anything show.

“I was still doing reconnaissance. You might have told our enemies I was there and ruined my ability to surprise them.” The grumpy words come from the unicorn—she’s moving her mouth—but how the hell are they doing that? Some kind of hidden speaker?

“Were there any enemies?” The orc rolls out of the bouncy castle and stands.

“No ogres or kelpies.” The unicorn stomps a hoof into the ground. “But another sluagh flew north.”

“Goddess, I bet they’ve gone to get reinforcements. We need to leave.”

“What isthat?” The unicorn jabs its horn toward the bouncy castle.

“That’s the thing that kept me from breaking several bones when I fell off the top of the stone,” I say, glaring at the orc to make it clear I didn’t do it to make abedfor us.

“You fell?” The orc steps toward me, eyes running up and down as if searching for injuries. He looks truly worried, but then, he’s obviously a good actor. His talent’s wasted on reality TV, but maybe this show is supposed to give him his big break.

They sure aren’t sparing any expense. His costume and makeup, the unicorn, the special effects—they’re all top-notch.

“Are you hurt?” He sounds truly concerned, all his flirty playfulness gone in an instant. Then he steps close, taller and bigger, and my bodyfeelshis size as he towers over me until I thrum with awareness.

His hands are on me, moving over my arms and shoulders, sending little licks of fire shivering over my skin. He leans over, his long black hair falling around his face. God, why is long hair so sexy on some guys?

Wasn’t I just angry at him a minute ago? All of that fades under his concern. No matter how good of an actor he is, his care doesn’t feel fake.

Then his hands slide down the outside of my legs, and I realize it’s been way too long since someone touched me. For all his months of teasing, Calvin never touched me a single time.That should have been a clue, because if he’d actually been interested, he should have wanted to touch me. And this man’s hands on my thighs—even my outer thighs—feels like a promise.

My stomach flutters like it’s ready to throw a parade. Bad stomach!

“I thought we were in a hurry,” the unicorn says.

“I’m not making her ride if my bride’s hurt,” the orc growls, a flash of determination crossing his face. His hands glide down my lower legs, and I never thought of my calves as sensitive before, so how is he making my skin tingle even through the denim of my jeans?

“Grace,” I croak, my throat suddenly dry. Him saying bride all the time is alot. “My name’s Grace.”

He stands, his smile back in place. “Grace. It suits you.”

Hah! Now I know he’s a liar. Grace has got to be the most ironic name ever, because being almost six-feet tall and built like a Viking, I’m pretty damned far from graceful.

“I’m Branikk, and this is Aurora.”

“Who wants to leave.” The unicorn tosses her head. “Although I don’t know what we’re going to do with all of these… things.”

She’s right—or whoever’s talking through the speakers is. There’s a bouncy castle and a ton of pillows. It feels wrong, like littering, to just leave them here where there’s nothing but moss and trees, but surely the TV people will clean it all up.

“Did we pass any gnome homes on the way here?” Branikk asks. “I was too focused on our destination to pay much attention.”

“It’s the forest,” Aurora says with an amused snort. “There arealwaysgnome homes. That doesn’t mean we have to call the pesky things.”

Branikk’s eyes flick to the bouncy castle. “We can’t leave that here. It makes my bride’s great magical power all too obvious. Any sluagh who sees it will only want her more.”

It looks so carnival bright and plastic and very, very wrong in this setting that I fight down another wince. I didn’t really do that, did I? I didn’t make it appear—that’s impossible. Only, it seems I’ve landed in a world of impossible things. My hand scrubs over my face. All of this is too weird to process with very little sleep—not that being passed out on a bed of hard rock could exactly be called sleep—and no caffeine. God, I could crush a Coke right about now. I’ve never liked coffee, no matter how much sugar you put in it, but a continuous stream of sugary soda fuels my days.

Branikk stomps out a steady beat, his other foot joining in until he’s stomp-dancing in a repeating pattern, rat-a-tat-tat-tat. Each thump of his feet vibrates through the ground with power, but his big body moves gracefully, his long hair swirling around his shoulders as if to show off their width.

He spins slowly in place, and the bow and arrow quiver on his back jostle, right above—

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