Page 10 of Bound to the Orc Ranger

But what really undoes me is her care. She uses only the gentlest of touches, like the flutter of butterfly wings seeped in concern.

My moon bound bride has a good heart, and I vow then and there to protect it until my dying breath.

After wading the river, with Hurtle complaining all the while as water nymphs tickle his stomach, we ride for several more hours. Olivia and I eat lunch in the saddle, bread with cheese and the small early apples of the summer trees. Now she dozes, her body soft and pliant as I cradle it to mine.

The sound of rushing water cuts through the evening song of larks and wrens.

Hurtle snorts and shakes his head, his pearlescent horn flashing in the angled light of evening. In contrast to his subject, his tone is dry. “Another river.”

I give his neck a pat, the hairs of his glossy silver coat soft and sleek. Besides his hatred of tickling water nymphs, Hurtle loves to explore as much as I do. I’m lucky he chose me to partner with all those years ago.

“We’ll make camp on the far side,” I promise.

“On this side.”

“What? You’d rather start the new day doing something you hate?”

He doesn’t bother to answer, which means I’m right.

Hurtle enters the water at a fast clip, trying to cross before the nymphs find him. It’s futile. They’re in their element, their tinkling laughter sounding like creek water burbling over stones. He snorts as their tickling touches make his skin jump.

I tuck my legs as high as I can. I’ll still get wet, but it lifts Olivia’s feet above the waterline, and that’s all I care about. She stirs in sleepy confusion, and I shush her, burying my nose in her soft hair.

When we stop on the far bank, she’s still so tired that food holds no interest. I find a small clearing just inside the tree line and erect my tent quickly on a bed of soft pine needles, laying out all of my furs and settling her on them.

“She is small and weak.” Hurtle uses his horn to part the tent flaps and pokes his head inside.

“No, she is tired and unused to such travel.” I brush the hair from her face, hating that I must push her so hard, but it’s several days’ travel to reach the speaking stone. “You’ve gotten too used to orcs, my old friend. She’s the same size as an elf, and no one ever called them weak.”

I stretch the truth a bit since Olivia’s human.

“I’ll keep watch. You are not at your best.” His horn taps my injured shoulder, but for all his grumpiness, he’s careful not to touch any of the wounds. With that, he leaves to patrol, as grumpy as always, even while the most loyal of companions.

I curl around my bride, holding her close through the moonless night.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Olivia

The unicorn gallops forward, ever forward, and the next few days blur into the beauty of the forest and the press of Rovann’s body behind mine all day and all night. I don’t know why he’s in such a hurry, but urgency hangs like a heavy cloak around him, and I have to insist he make time for me to tend his injury each evening. At least he’s healing well, far faster than any human.

But no matter how impatient he is with his own care, he’s endlessly willing to see to mine. He gives me the softest pieces of bread, the freshest of the small, crisp apples. He hunts, bringing back already cleaned rabbits and spit-roasting them over the fire, offering me legs rich with crackling skin and the hot spurt of tasty grease.

I always get to wash up first, the magical cloth leaving my hair and skin soft and smelling of flowers. Rovann gives me his spare shirt, even though that forces him to wear his damaged one. I thought at first it’s because of how horribly the bright orange of my Pizza Shack shirt stands out in this forest of greens and blues. But he pantomimes that it’s because the short-sleeves don’t protect my arms as we ride through branches.

Rovann watches me constantly, his dark eyes a pressure of interest burning across my skin in licks of lingering heat.

I catch myself watching him back. The play of muscles sliding under green skin, the long flow of black hair when he frees it from the braid, the bite of his tusks when he rips meat from the bone. He’s both beautiful and incredibly masculine, the two combining into a heady presence that makes my body hum with awareness.

Warmth and the most delicious feeling of safety envelop me as I drift from a dream full of green faces and a feeling of home.

My hand flexes, and the soft luxury of fur tickles my palm. I crack an eye open, and dim sunlight filters through the tent wall, which stretches to a peak overhead.

A deep murmur sounds, half heard, half felt as a vibration through my back. A heavy arm tightens around me. Rovann! My head rests on his biceps, his body curled around me.

This great beast of a man holds me like I’m precious. He’s been nothing but kind to me, and the contrast between this gentleness and the ferocity with which he fought the gray monster makes my core clench.

Heat flushes through me, my nipples hardening as I react to that thought. It’s too much, too soon. I roll upright and scooch away until we no longer touch.

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