Page 11 of Bound to the Orc Warlord

Dravarr

“My bride, I must get you to safety.” I stride toward her.

The sluagh’s threat still echoes in my mind: “My, she’s a tasty one, brimming with magic. I can’t wait to suck her soul from her body.”

A growl rumbles in my chest, and I bare my tusks in a snarl. I vowed to end him if he ever touched a single beak to her again, but I doubt that will deter the sluagh for long. Cowardly in one-on-one battle, they are nonetheless deadly foes, willing to resort to potions and trickery.

He will return. He wants my bride too greatly not to.

Those big green eyes of hers stare up at me with wary hopefulness as I pull her from the pine. Her sweet voice offers me her name, the sound of “Ashley” as lovely and soft as she is.

I give her mine in turn, the touch of her small finger on my chest a tease that turns my thoughts to the marriage bed. But we need to move. It’s several days’ ride to reach the safety of orc lands, and my moon bound is no great warrior able to defend herself. She must be kept and protected. I lift her into the saddle.

As soon as my hands slide from her, she flies up. Only a quick grab of the saddle stops her. Even so, her feet lift into the sky, her skirt falling away to show her glorious thighs and pink-covered buttocks.

“By the goddess, woman. How am I supposed to do anything but ravish you when you keep offering me such temptation?”

Midnight ignores my words and glances over her shoulder at the suspended Ashley. “You’re right. This flying thing is going to be a problem. How are you going to keep her grounded?”

In a flash, I imagine my bride beneath me, those plump thighs spread wide, the weight of my body holding her down, even as my cock pins her in place.

“Not helpful,” I mutter, willing my unruly mind—and erection—to stillness. I’m not used to such distractions. No woman has tempted me in such a fashion for years. I swing up into the saddle and anchor my feet in the stirrups so I can reach for her.

“I’ll help!” The dragon youngling lands on Ashley’s feet, his weight lowering them until she’s horizontal in the air.

“Thank you.” I pull her to me. There’s no setting her in front of me, back to front like normal. If enemies attack, I won’t be able to pull a weapon and hold on to her. Instead, I settle her on my lap, facing me. Her hands cling to my shoulders, and her legs wrap around my waist. She grips me tightly as Midnight breaks into a trot, and the feel of Ashley’s soft breasts moving against me rhythmically tears a groan from my throat.

“Get us to the speaking stone,” I grit out as Midnight breaks through a stand of blue birch, “as fast as you can.”

The next few days will be nothing but torture.

The forest comes alive around us the farther we ride from the standing stone, a clear sign the sluagh does not linger. Not all creatures on Alarria are magical fae, but even the regular animals know enough to avoid the soul eaters.

The dragon flies far overhead when the trees are dense, descending close whenever the foliage opens up. As we approach an open glen, his darting green shape startles birds out of his way, the bright-yellow bodies of golden larks lifting from trees like handfuls of flowers tossed to the wind.

Ashley cranes around, her mouth opening in wonder as she tracks their flight. A blush pinks her cheeks when she catches me watching her. “Thar bee you tee full.”

A frown tugs down the corners of my lips. I wish for us to understand each other. The speaking stone never seemed important before. It’s been ages since the Moon Goddess brought a new type of fae to Alarria, one not from my home realm of Avalon, who needed the magic of the stone to communicate. Then again, the goddess hasn’t brought anyone new for decades.

Now she offers these humans as sky gifts, as moon bound brides, confirming she favors orcs out of all the Wild Fae. But our goddess is capricious and hasn’t made things easy on me or on my bride.

“What did she say?” the dragon asks.

I grunt, then answer, “How should I know?”

“I want to talk to her. She can fly. I don’t know anyone but dragons who can fly.”

“Pixies fly.”

“Anyonebig.”

I fight down a grin. Whatever else this youngling may be, big is not it, not compared to an adult dragon. “Why are you still with us? Shouldn’t you return to your mother and your nest?”

“Nest?Nest?” His tone sounds offended. He beats his wings to match Midnight’s speed, and once he hovers beside us, he offers me a dark glare, his crest rising on his head. “I’ll have you know I’m in my wander years.”

I grunt. He’s older than I thought.

One of Ashley’s arms lets go of my neck and reaches toward him, her voice a lilting series of notes.

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