Page 14 of Bound to the Orc Warlord

Her tether in hand, I return to the saddlebags and pull out my spare clothes. I’ve worn them on my trip but scoured them with the cleaning cloth, so they’re as fresh as I can make them.

The pants fit her better than expected, the soft brown leather clinging to the curves of her wide hips. She folds the excess material of the waistband down over her stomach, and it stays in place. The empty ends of the legs dangle a good foot past her feet, and no amount of cuffing will do. I slice away the extra length with my knife, glad as ever for the sharpness of its moon steel blade.

I turn my back as she pulls off her dress to don my shirt, and the rustle of fabric is the greatest of teases. Is she naked from the waist up? Her gloriously full breasts bare? Do the little dots that decorate her skin also cover her there?

A groan tears from my chest at the thought.

More whispers of moving clothing, then her sweet voice says my name.

I spin to find her floating in front of me, her dress a crumpled mass on the ground. Parted from her body, it’s lost the ability to fly.

My shirt hangs from her, so long it falls almost to her knees. She struggles with the sleeves, pushing them up in an attempt to free her hands.

“Let me.” I cuff the excess of the arms and tuck the hem into the pants, leaving her with only her hands and face bare. Yet knowing she wears my clothes makes this outfit almost as alluring as her dress.

Then I remember the flash of pink every time her skirt flew up and know I lie. As impractical as it may be, little could be better than that dress.

Once back in the saddle, we ride across the wide, shallow river. Water-rounded rocks dot the brown silt of its bed, interspersed with waving patches of deep-green algae. Midnight dances through the water, laughing and prancing as the nymphs tickle her stomach and flanks, the high liquid splash of their voices calling for her to stay.

My moon bound leans out, a wondrous smile on her face as her wide eyes take in the water nymphs swimming right below the surface. Their ephemeral bodies break from the crystal-clear water in leaps, like a pod of playful dolphins, stretching water-foam fingers to touch the ends of hers.

As we climb onto the far bank, Ashley looks up at me, laughing and happy, her fire-red hair blowing around her like flames dancing in the wind. Her joy makes her even lighter, lifting her from my lap, and I pull her more tightly to me.

Once we’re under the cover of trees again, I pull out lunch and feed her the travel food I carry, bread and cheese and the first small apples of summer, tiny and crisp and sweet. She eats happily and with good appetite, which pleases a primal part of me. I did not think to water the ale, and a few swigs leave her giggly and sleepy, a yawn catching her by surprise.

“Come.” I wrap both arms around her and pull her to me, tucking her head under my chin. Goddess knows how long she was in that tree—she might not have slept at all the previous night.

She murmurs something soft and sweet into the skin of my neck, and a pang cuts through me as she drifts off, trusting me, even though we can’t speak.

“Still think she’s useless?” Midnight teases, turning her head enough to spear me with a sardonic look. “You’re looking at herfarmore lustfully than any of those women you visited at Raven Steel Clan.”

I grunt. She’s right, even if I’m not willing to say it aloud. My attempts to make a political marriage never panned out. No one was right. No one wasperfect.

And no one stirred my desire like this human I hold in my arms.

Ashley falls fully asleep, growing ever heavier and more substantial in my arms as her magic fades. I revel in the feeling of her solid against me, her thighs pressed to the tops of mine, her breasts and stomach flattened against my chest. She remains soft, but it’s a pleasing softness, the kind a man can lose himself in.

Each thump of Midnight’s hooves striking the ground moves Ashley against me. Instead of threatening to fly away, she slips to the side.

I’m glad of it. It gives me an excuse to hold her even more tightly.

CHAPTER NINE

Ashley

The steady rocking motion halts, and I burrow my face into firm warmth, fighting off wakefulness. A deep voice rumbles, the sound vibrating up through the surface I rest on.

Dravarr!

I jerk upright in a bleary haze, my brain catching up a few seconds later to warn the movement could send me flying.

But it doesn’t.

I’m normal again.

My body presses into Dravarr’s with all my weight, and it feels so good. I’ve spent years worrying about being heavy, but having weight means I can really touch him, really feel his body against mine. Holding Dravarr while weightless had felt nice but taken constant work, my muscles unable to relax.

Now that I weigh something again, we fit together effortlessly.

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