Page 51 of Bound to the Orc Warlord

He holds me with one arm locked around my waist so the other can stroke my back as I cry quietly. A flood of emotionspours through me. Everything I held off over the last hour hits me all at once. It’s all so much, too much. Fear and triumph and horror and relief.

And love.

I love Dravarr.

When I felt my soul start to slip away, it had seemed the cruelest joke ever. I finally found the guy who made me feel truly alive, and I was going to lose any chance of a future with him.

Now I have it all back, all that wonderful potential.

All that possibility of loving and being loved.

My magic surges, my necklace warming between us, and I bob higher in his arms. But I don’t want to fly. I want to be here with him.

I need to master my final lesson.

I need to learn how to turn off my power.

Breathing into the damp weave of his shirt, I suck in lungfuls of his scent, leather and pine and Dravarr.

Okay, I need to think. Clearly, a desire to escape sparks my magic. So what will stop it? The opposite? A desire to stay? If ever I felt that, it’s now. I release him with one hand to grip my necklace.

“I wish to be grounded now.” I mouth the words directly into the smooth surface of the crystal, pouring them directly from my heart. “I wish to be fully here, with my love.”

Magic rushes inward from my toes and fingers, traveling up my arms and legs to gather in the center of my chest. It fades, not like something lost but like something going to sleep, the potential dormant and waiting.

My weight returns in a rush. Before I can even tighten my legs, the hand stroking my back drops to cradle my butt. Those warrior reflexes of his are clearly good outside of battle.

I tip my head back to look up at him. “I did it! I figured out how to turn off my power!”

“How?” His sharp eyes search my face.

“It’s a magic thing,” I half lie, uncertain I can explain, but one-hundred percent certain I’m not yet ready to tell him that love for him allowed me to do it. I might have fallen already, but I can still be smart, still wait until telling him won’t be too much, too soon.

The wind howls outside, and a shiver runs through me. It doesn’t make it through the improvised door, but the sound makes me realize the air in the cave is cool.

Dravarr’s jaw tightens. “I need to get you warm.”

He slides me slowly down his body until I can stand. Then he crouches and gets to work, spreading the furs across the flattest part of the floor and setting out all of our supplies.

When the cloth sacks holding the birds stir, he shoves them into a crack in the far wall and covers the opening with both of the now-empty saddlebags.

“Thank you,” I say. “I didn’t want to sleep in the same room as the nasty things.”

He grunts, but I’m learning the different ones, and it’s his pleased grunt.

“We need to get dry.” His hands are on me, stripping my sodden dress up over my head. He makes short work of my sneakers and pants, until I stand in nothing but my undies. One of the other empty cloth bags turns into an impromptu towel, and he swipes it over my stomach, back, and legs, rubbing warmth back into my skin.

Then he dabs at my arms and reaches for the medical supplies.

“Nope. You need to get out of your wet clothes, too.” I pluck at the sleeve of his soaked shirt, peppered with darker spots.

When he pulls it off, dots of red cover his arms, far more than I got.

“Oh, my god! You’re so hurt!” My heart pinches in my chest. “Those little shits really went after you. I mean the sluagh did. Is it plural or singular?” I wave a hand. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. Taking care of you is what’s important.”

“I’m fine.” He captures my hand and pulls it to his lips, kissing my fingertips. “Such wounds are nothing.”

“Yeah, my arms don’t really hurt, not like when they actually pecked me. That felt really weird.” I shake my head, unable to describe the feeling. “I felt so weak.”

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