Page 11 of Bound to the Orc Renegade

I blurt the first word that comes to mind, “Telekenesis!”

He scowls. “Tele-what?”

“The ability to move things with your mind.”

“I wish to move things with my mind.” His fingers flex on the rock as if trying to dig in. “Dammit, I don’t feel any magic.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure it’s the words so much as…” I scrunch up my nose, trying to reach for the feeling. Why does my power work sometimes and not others? I seriously need to figure this out. “I think intent plays a part.” That isn’t the full answer—I totally intended to knock the ogre away from me that second time yet couldn’t—but it’s the best I’ve got for now.

A brown ball soars through the air and smashes into the side of the standing stone, releasing a billowing cloud of orange gas.

I suck in a startled breath, and a sickly sweetness coats my tongue.

“Deathsleep!” Storm yells, rearing up on his hind legs.

Shit! In a game, anything with “death” in it is very bad, not good, super horrible, do not want.

Krivoth pinches his nose shut with one hand while the other scoops me off my feet and tosses me up onto the unicorn’s saddle as if I weigh about as much as a feather pillow. Then he’s up behind me, a hot, hard wall of muscle and male.

He palms my stomach, his long fingers splayed so wide his thumb rests in the valley between my breasts.

Storm leaps toward the trees.

The jolt throws me backward, my butt lifting from the saddle. Krivoth’s hand and body are the only things keeping me from flying off. His thighs tighten around mine, and he leans forward, taking me with him. His free hand grips the silvery mane, his arms around me, and I’m swallowed by his size as we rocket forward into the trees.

I’ve always been small, but Krivoth’s so much bigger than a human man that I’m now downright tiny.

And it’s causing a strange tickle low in my tummy. Or is that the danger?

Needle-tipped branches slap against him as we barrel forward, but he shields me completely, leaving me free to enjoy the sheer exhilaration of speed.

My heart races with excitement, and each gulped breath of air brings the clean scent of pine and flowers. I wanna ask what it means that I breathed in the orange stuff. Am I in danger? But neither of them talk, so I stay quiet too.

Then Storm’s gait falters, and he slows. Another irregularity as one of his front knees buckles.

“Stop!” Krivoth calls out, tugging on the unicorn’s mane.

It isn’t clear if it’s the command or simply that he can’t go any farther, but Storm stumbles to a stop.

Right as the unicorn crumples to the ground, Krivoth leaps from his back, taking me with him. His body wraps around minein midair, and we hit with him taking the impact on his back. After sliding a few feet across leaves and moss, we slow to a halt with me sprawled across his chest. Again.

CHAPTER SIX

Krivoth

“Are you all right? Did you breathe in the orange gas?” I ask.

My moon bound bride lies still upon me, her back to my chest. She stood closest to the place the deathsleep herb hit. Did she get too large of a dose? Would she be trapped in a coma for a hundred years? My quest for the king instantly took on a whole new meaning. I would find the violet trifolia and save her!

I caught only a faint whiff of the dreaded herb, a cowardly weapon designed by the sluagh, the only fae who could handle it without passing out. But the soul stealers have formed an alliance with ogres, so I imagine it was my defeated foe who threw the poison-laced gourd.

“I’m fine, I think. I breathed some of it in, though.” She rolls over, her sharp little elbows digging into my chest in thesweetest of pains. Her beautiful brown eyes meet mine. “Am I gonna be okay?”

“Yes. It would have affected you by now if it were going to.”

“And Storm?” She twists to look at him.

Worry pinches my chest. I haven’t known him long, and he’s the extra-grumpy sort, but he’s also been a faithful companion this last week, running fast and true to bring me to my bride.

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