Page 62 of Bound to the Orc Renegade

Daylight highlights the cave mouth behind her, turning the feline fae into a dark figure with the silver tips of her mane glowing around her.

“You should be glad the unicorn can’t fit through the opening.” Her smile flashes, bright in her smoke-gray face. “He threatened to come in and kick you awake.”

“He wouldn’t.”

“True. But that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t want to. You’ve overslept.”

My moon bound burrows her face into my side, moaning, “Too early.”

She’s very much not a morning person, and I wonder if this is the real reason humans drink the bitter liquid called coffee—to make up for a species-wide weakness. Unfortunately, the only coffee in Alarria waits back in Moon Blade Village, the home I don’t plan to return to until I can visit in triumph as one of the king’s guard.

I brush her wild hair off her cheek and press a kiss to it. “Sleep a little longer. I’ll get our things.”

When I roll up to sitting, I slide the fur off me and tuck it around my bride to keep her warm. The morning air is refreshingly cool against my bare skin as I pull on a clean shirt and pants to limp outside, my thigh already better since I fell into a healing sleep for part of the night.

My boots sit sprawled among the rest of our discarded clothing. Taylor said something last night about being happy to be clean, so after she fell asleep, I snuck out, washed our clothes, and spread them out to dry. It’s not as good as touching them to the cleaning stone back at Moon Blade Village to perfectly launder them, but it’ll do.

Mist picks her way over the various items, her steps precise. Her green eyes sparkle with laughter. “I certainly see why you’re both so tired.”

Storm snorts in amusement, hoof striking stone where he stands on the path.

I go over and pat his withers. “Thank you, my friend, for fighting valiantly by my side yesterday.”

“I am a fierce warrior.”

“That you are.” I tip my head.

“You’re not so bad yourself. A sword isn’t as good as a unicorn horn, but you came close.” And with that bit of high praise, he taps my shoulder with his horn.

“Isn’t this lovely?” Mist says, her eyes laughing at us.

“My thanks to you, too,” I say, tipping my head toward her. “You fought well.”

“Of course I did.” She extends a set of long claws and starts to clean them.

Storm says, “Can we be going? We’re close to our goal.” His white coat gleams with health, all of his cuts already healed.

As good as my thigh feels, I still envy his magic. “Give us a little more time. Not all of us have your healing ability. Taylor’s tired. She’s not used to battles.”

“She’s not used to you riding her all night, you mean,” Mist teases.

I grin, remembering how many times my bride screamed my name.

The delicate fabric of her lacy undergarments has dried, as has her shirt and my clothing. The damp blue canvas of her human pants clearly lack the waterproofing spells of my leather ones.

When I return to the cave and call her name, she bolts upright, her hair swirling around her head as she clutches thefurs to her chest. “Oh, no! You’re the one who’s hurt! I should have been doing all the extra walking.”

“It’s fine.” I hold out her undergarments. “In fact, I washed our clothes last night.”

She stands and pulls them from my hand. “What? When?”

I brush my thumb over her lower lip, tugging on its plump softness. “You, my bride, sleep so very deeply when you’re thoroughly satisfied.”

Her cheeks darken, but she smiles.

“Get ready to head out!” Mist calls from outside. “The unicorn’s antsy!”

A deep grumble comes from Storm, the words incomprehensible, but the tone clear.

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