Page 22 of Bound to the Orc Ranger

The pixie darts to the side, and I lob the pizza straight at the ogre’s face.

He bellows in pain, his free hand scraping the bready part away. But as I hoped, the fake cheese sticks like glue, clinging to his eyes and making it hard to see.

Dammit! He still doesn’t let me go. I wrap my fingers around his thumb, struggling to break his grip. I’m sobbing with the effort, tugging with everything I have.

He’s too strong. His hand refuses to budge.

A flash of silver.

The ogre’s severed hand drops to the ground.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Rovann

“I told you,” I pant, catching my breath after sprinting to reach them. “I told you I’d kill you if you so much as looked at my bride again, andyou dared to touch her!”

The roar tears from my chest in a wash of agony. The fight with the other ogres left me with at least one broken rib, possibly more. I ignore the pain.

The ogre presses his bleeding stump to his side and pulls his mace from his back. Tough fucker.

We square off, and I sidestep until I am between him and Olivia.

He squints at me, something wrong with his eyes. A yellow substance clings to his face, and I know my moon bound has injured him in some fashion. Pride wells in my chest, and I thank the goddess for gifting me with the blessing of my bride.

My sweet Olivia’s kind heart must be horrified by all of this violence, and I am about to do far worse. But as much as it will hurt to lose her good regard, I cannot leave this beast alive to threaten her again.

Hurtle breaks through the trees, lowering his head and jousting toward the kelpie. The pixies scatter from his path as the fae equines clash, all flailing hooves and sharp whinnies.

The ogre swings his mace, and I block, catching the shaft with the flat of my blade. My whole body sings with pain, but the bloodlust driving me makes it a distant thing.

Back and forth, we battle. His injury will weaken him the longer it bleeds, and he knows it. He fights with everything he has.

So do I. For I have something far more precious to protect than my own life.

I fight for Olivia.

Another clash catches mace on sword, and we strain against each other, both pressing too hard to allow our weapons to disengage. A feral urge fills me. I relax my arms, letting him surge forward.

My tusks slash at his neck, cutting the tough hide.

He jerks away from me, bleeding from two places now.

I grin and lick at my tusks, then spit the foul blood from my mouth. “You taste as bad as you smell, ogre filth.”

“It doesn’t matter how I taste, orc dog.” His eyes flick past me. “Your little human will sweeten my bed soon enough.”

Rage burns in my blood. I swing for his neck, but he ducks and buries his mace in my side, right where I already have broken ribs. Agony flares as the world goes white. The spikes rip from my side, and my muscles freeze with the shock of it. I can’t breathe. Each gasping breath does nothing to fill my lungs. I have a split second to realize this is it. This is when he’ll deliver the killing blow.

My heart aches for my bride. “Olivia,” I croak, wanting to say more, to say everything. All that comes out is, “Olivia.”

“Hey, asshole!” she shouts.

The ogre screams in pain, and that extra moment is all I need to start moving again.

He claws one of my bride’s creations from his face with one finger, still holding the mace.

She saved my life. My glorious and wonderful bride saved my life.

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