Page 8 of Bound to the Orc Ranger

He captures my hand and gives it a squeeze, smirking down at me. Up close his voice seems even deeper, rumbling through his massive chest. I don’t need to speak orc to translate the macho: “It’s nothing, little lady. I am a man, and a man is too tough for wounds.”

Okay, maybe hedidn’tsay that, but the thought makes me grin up at him. He’s impressive from a distance. Up close, he makes my whole body tingle with an awareness of him and his size.

He taps a finger to his chest. “Rovann.”

“Rovann,” I repeat. His name?

He nods and taps my chest.

“Olivia.”

He says it, lingering on the vowels until my name sounds lovely and strange.

Then he steps past me and presses both palms to the standing stone. He speaks, one phrase after another, his voice going harsh with frustration.

Is he trying to get it to do magic? Did I feel something real last night, after all?

I clasp my crystal pendant in one hand and step forward to press the other to the stone. The faintest of hums tickles my skin, but nothing glows.

Rovann tips his head toward the rock and says something.

“If you want me to try wishing for things to see if I can make it work, I already tried that. It didn’t.”

He grunts and tips his head again, more emphatically.

“Fine.” I’ll prove once and for all that I don’t have magic. I run through a string of wishes, each wilder than the previous, finally ending with, “I wish I had a magical flying elephant that could carry me everywhere.”

When nothing happens, disappointment curls through me, hollowing me out. Why is this thing—this outlandish thing I never in a million years would have considered possible only a day before—something I already ache for? But I do. I long for magic, like a missing piece of me.

He finally steps away from the stone, calling out.

A neigh from behind makes me turn, expecting a horse.

White moves within the trees, and a unicorn steps out into the clearing.

My jaw drops.

Taller than me and powerfully built, the only thing “pretty” about it is the silvery shimmer of its coat. A long horn juts from its forehead for a good foot and a half before ending in a wickedly sharp point.

It neighs, tossing its head, and I could swear Rovanntalksto it for several sentences.Reallytalks—this isn’t the mindless patter of someone addressing a pet. His voice sounds as if he expects the animal to understand him.

And damned if the unicorn doesn’t neigh again, like it’s answering him!

It brushes past him, headed right for me. Its head dips, its warm breath stirring my hair as it snuffles at me.

I hold completely still, staring at its powerful neck.

Rovann comes over and lifts my hand to the unicorn’s mane, and my fingers dig in, tangling in the silky hair. Standing between the two of them, I feel tiny. His deep voice rumbles, softer now, and then his huge hands encase my waist, lifting me effortlessly into the air to set me on the leather saddle.

In a flash, his large body settles in behind, completely enveloping me. His legs bracket mine, and his chest presses against my back in a wall of firm, warm muscle. It’s a little scary and a lot thrilling the way my heart skips as he wraps one arm around me, his green hand so big it palms my entire stomach.

There are no reins. Instead, Rovann speaks, and the unicorn turns and heads off into the trees.

The technicolor forest around me grabs my attention, and my gaze pinballs from one wonder to the next. Brilliant green moss spreads like a plush blanket across the ground. Ferns stand in clumps, the curly tops of fiddleheads rising above them like a tiny grove of question marks.

When we break through a stand of fir trees, my breath hitches at the beauty before me. Blue surrounds us, the sunlight colored by the canopy overhead. Papery wisps of translucent bark curl up from the silver surface of the tree trunks, and above, branches spread outward, covered in oval-shaped blue leaves.

The school camping trip in seventh grade looked nothing like this. We went to a popular state park full of well-beaten paths and tree trunks carved with layers of initials.

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