Page 31 of Bound to the Orc Warlord

Molten heat stirs low in my belly, spreading outward like thick honey, sweet, so sweet. I need more.

“Yes,” I breathe out in a soft sigh and stretch against him.

No response.

Is he even awake? I brush my fingers over the back of his hand and whisper, “Dravarr.”

Nothing, not even a hitch in his breathing.

Disappointment crashes over me. He’s not lying there awake thinking of me. Which means his hard on must be the normal morning guy thing. He could be here alone and still have it—I’m not part of the equation.

Suddenly his arm around me feels like a fairytale I’m telling myself. Dravarr holds me to keep me from floating while I sleep, and here I am spinning stories of romance and sex. Just like I did with Mr. Caprio, who flirted with the “desperate fat girl” to further his own schemes. He didn’t want me either.

A feeling like ants crawling all over my skin washes over me. I can’t stand it—I can’tdothis, can’t fall for another gorgeous guy who doesn’t feel the same.

This time when I move, I roll all the way out from under his arm and the fur he pulled over us last night. Outside the tent, the morning’s not that cold, but the air feels icy once I leave the protective warmth of Dravarr’s large body.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Dravarr

My eyes snap open as soon as Ashley slides away from me, no longer needing to feign sleep. She flees the tent without looking back, as horrified by my erection as I worried.

My brother spoke of human wooing, of the need to coax his moon bound to his bed.

I lack his smooth graces, his easy charm.

And so my bride flees.

It’s unacceptable for me to fail at anything I turn my mind to. I never cared in the past to learn the softer ways to bed a woman. But my bride makes me want to perfect them, and so I will.

My shoulder gives a dull throb as I push upright, already healing well after Ashley’s careful attentions. I flex the hand andmove the arm, checking its range. Not bad—not full strength or mobility, but not bad.

I’ll be able to fight for her if any enemies dare attack today. That’s all that matters.

Outside, dawn light filters into the meadow in slanted bars of gold that flare bright yellow every time a lark flies through, flashing its gilded feathers. Their cheerful, high songs dance on the breeze.

I scowl. Clearly, none of them have wooing problems.

My bride stands at the edge of the clearing, looking out into the meadow. Since she’s not flying, her hair no longer floats around her. Instead, it flows down her wide back like a wave of fire beautiful enough to tempt a man to get burned and be happy for the pain if it meant touching her.

She spins, then freezes in place, her eyes widening, her gaze dancing across my bare chest. A flash of some strong emotion crosses her face, too quickly for me to decipher. Appreciation?

Or disgust?

“You’re still shirtless. I forgot.” Ashley snaps into motion and hurries over to the saddlebags to rummage inside one. She pulls out her bright-green dress and mutters, “It’s just like a bikini.”

Bikini?

Before I can ask, she pulls my spare shirt up over her head, baring her generous stomach and…

Fuck.

Another scrap of pink.

Goddess, save me.

It hides her gloriously full breasts from my view, teasing me with what lies beneath. It is as vexing as the cloth that covers her sex. I want to rip it from her with my tusks.

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