Page 8 of Bound to the Orc Warlord

“What good is it for battle?” I thump a fist against the stone. I wanted a warrior or at least someone with conjuring powers like Olivia. My brother’s bride has a useful skill. Getting stuck in treetops is theoppositeof useful.

“Haven’t you ever wanted to fly?” Midnight turns a skeptical eye on me.

“Childish dreams.”

“Not a dream.” She tosses her mane. “And not that childish, either. Flying would certainly be handy right now.”

I squint upward. Midnight’s right. I’d hoped to fly up to my bride, but if the stone won’t work for me… “I guess I’ll do this the hard way.” Of course I will. Ialwaysget the hard way.

After unfastening my sword belt, I hang it from Midnight’s saddle and cross over to the tree. I leap for the lowest branch and pull myself upward, the rough bark of the pine biting into my palms, the smell of fresh sap adding a resinous note to the scent of its needles.

“O mai gawd.” Appreciation fills my moon bound’s voice. “Yur zo strawng.”

She’s harder to see through the branches, only the cream of her wide thighs and that shocking scrap of pink visible. It fascinates me that her clothing exposes so much of her yet covers her sex. It’s even more tempting than if she were naked, and I can’t help but wonder what it hides.

I climb, the stretch and strain of my shoulders welcome exercise after several days in the saddle. The tickle of the needles on my bare skin, the soft beats of the dragon’s wings, the green scent of pine—I feel more alive than I have in days.

No. I lie.

It’s been years since I’ve felt this sense of anticipation. I left behind my carefree days as soon as I began warrior training as a teen, my tutors making it clear that as the warlord’s eldest, they expected much of me.

I haul myself up several more feet. As soon as the lush aroma of female teases my nose, my heart pounds.

It’s her. This elated feeling’s all due to my moon bound bride, the one the goddess matched me with for life.

My movements speed until the dizzying sway of the thinning tree trunk pulls me to a halt.

“O gawd. O gawd. O gawd,” my bride chants above me as the tree bends under our combined weight.

Standing on the last strong branch, I strain upward, my fingers brushing the soft skin of her ankle. She jerks, making the tree sway harder.

“Shh,” I say. “Calm yourself.” She won’t understand me, so I try to soften my tone, even though it’s not something I’m good at.

When she stills, I touch her again, wrapping my hand around her ankle and giving a little tug. “I can’t go any higher. You need to come to me.”

She’s smart, my bride. She understands my meaning if not my words. Her thighs—those gloriously plump thighs—release the trunk, and the leg I hold extends toward me.

“That’s it.” My hand glides up the smooth skin of her calf, never losing contact.

She shoves at the thin branches around her, fighting to push her way down. It’s odd to watch, the opposite of what my mind expects to see after years of experience with gravity. My bride has a lovely solid build, yet she appears lighter than air.

Her foot kicks my shoulder, the rubbery sole of her human shoe doing no harm.

“Saw ree!” Her tone sounds contrite, and I almost laugh at the thought of such a gentle blow hurting me.

“It’s nothing,” I growl, my hand curling around the front of her thigh.

The dragon swoops closer as she continues to struggle. “Can I help?”

My moon bound bride startles and sits on my head. The movement pulls her far enough away from the trunk that the green skirt of her dress drops, falling around me like the most private of tents.

The smell of her engulfs me, making my cock twitch. I clamp her thigh to me to steady her, my tusks aching to mark the pale skin only inches away. Bright pink teases the top of my vision—that alluring scrap of fabric.

She repeats her “O gawd” a few more times and tries to squirm away, but my arm has a mind of its own and refuses torelease her, as if now that I have my hands on her I’ll never be able to let her go.

I pull my bride down my body, her glorious buttocks brushing over my face with the silky slide of the pink fabric. Then her clothing falls away, and I can see the rest of her again. She spins in my hold, her lovely face coming level with mine, her lips parted as she pants in either fear or excitement.

Up close, her eyes are green like my skin, and narrow lines the same black as my hair radiate outward from her pupils.

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