Page 11 of Bound to the Orc Guardian

“I healed you!” Joy fizzes through my veins, filling my chest with bubbles, which escape in a delighted laugh.Thisis what I’ve always wanted—this is what kept me going through the grind of college and med school—my dream of being a doctor, of helping people. “I can heal!”

He hurries back over to the stone pillar and waves the unicorn over. Placing one hand on the rock and the other over a slice on the unicorn’s neck, he speaks. When he lifts his hand, the cut’s still there.

I walk over. Up close, the unicorn is even bigger than I thought. But I know nothing about horses, so maybe it’s a normal size. I reach out slowly, giving it time to move away if it wants.

Instead, it takes a half step closer so that my palm rests on its black coat. Its golden eye watches me closely as I whisper, “I want to heal you.”

That pleasant zip of energy again as magic hums through me, feeling soright. I know it worked even beforeI pull my hand away to see nothing but sleek hide unmarred by even the tiniest scratch.

The unicorn gives a soft nicker and nuzzles the top of my head.

A pleased chuckle bubbles through me as I pat its neck. This is nice. I wonder if it would let me touch its horn? Am I supposed to have my V-card to do that? It’s so hard to know what’s true in the old stories and what’s not. Such as, all the talk of fae said they were gorgeous and had pointed ears, but none of it said they were green.

Then the green man’s right beside me, looming. Mierda! I’m used to being short, but this is ridiculous. He has to be seven feet tall, and all of it’s muscle. But unlike with those pendejos back in the alley, I don’t feel afraid. His voice is deep and growly as he points to that glorious chest and says, “Sturrm.”

“Storm?” Is that his name?

A crease furrows his brow, and he jabs a finger into his pectoral muscle. “Sturrm.”

“Sturrm,” I say. Then I point to myself. “Selena.”

His eyes dip to my cleavage—and I’ve got to admit I’ve got a lot to look at—then snap back up to mine. He scowls even harder when he realized I caught him looking, and I grin.

“Selena,” he says, getting it perfect the first time. No, scratch that. More than perfect. He makes my name sound like song.

I point to the unicorn next, and Sturrm makes a guttural noise at the same time that the unicorn says something in a whicker. They sound nothing alike but are both trying to tellme what should be the same name. I feel more confused than ever.

“Selena.” I gesture to first me and then the green man. “Sturrm.” Then I point to the unicorn and raise my eyebrows in a question.

When they repeat the conflicting sounds, I shake my head. “It doesn’t sound as if you’re speaking the same language. So how can you understand each other?” Then I snap my fingers. “I bet it’s magic! But why isn’t it working for me? I want some of this magic.” Otherwise, I’m screwed. My father was the best, but he didn’t speak Spanish, so I didn’t grow up in a bilingual household, and languages don’t come easily to me.

Sturrm steps closer and says something new, his voice a deep growl that shivers through me. His hands span my waist, almost big enough to wrap all the way around. With a fascinating ripple of shoulder and chest muscles, he lifts me onto the unicorn’s back.

I give a surprised exhale and sway, never having ridden before. I reach for the only thing I can see to grab—the unicorn’s mane. The long black hair is silky and fine.

Then Sturrm’s up behind me, his thighs resting against the outside of mine. One of those huge hands spreads across my stomach and steadies me.

The unicorn takes off at a fast walk, and I begin to tip over, only for Sturrm to pull me back into the solid wall of his chest.

My entire body lights up, tingling with an awareness of him. It’s more than arousal. It almost feels like when I usemy healing magic. Is it my healing magic? Is it kind of… constantly diagnosing him or something?

No. I shake my head. That doesn’t feel right.

Whatever it is, it’s a heady, buzzy sensation that makes me want to be closer.

We enter the forest, the ground softened with dried pine needles and deep-green moss. Ferns clump around the bases of the trees, and little umbrella plants with wide, circular leaves topping narrow stems spread across an open patch that gets sun. Bright-yellow birds swoop overhead, singing sweet songs, and a soft breeze carries the fresh scent of pine.

It’s about as different from Miami as you can get, and I love it.

Sturrm growls something, and the unicorn speeds up.

The forest around us blurs, and instead of it feeling as if we move through the world, it’s more like the unicorn runs in place and the world spins under its feet. It’s a dizzying, wonderful feeling, and I let out an excited cry.

The unicorn makes an amused sound and turns its head enough to look at me with one eye, the golden orb sparkling with mischief.

I pat its neck. “I like you.”

Another amused snort before it starts to run even faster.

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