Page 22 of Bound to the Orc Guardian

My mouth drops open, eyes widening. Magic is so amazingly awesome!

Sturrm spins me around, his eyes searching my face. “Did it work? Can you understand us?”

“Yes!” I grin up at him.

“It’s about time,” the unicorn says in a masculine voice.

“It certainly is,” the dragon says, looking at Sturrm. “You should be carrying one of the crystals I imbued with the power of the speaking stone.”

He bares his tusks. “Iwascarrying one of them, but before I could use it—”

“She made all of his clothes disappear!” the unicorn yells with a whinny of a laugh, one hoof pawing the ground as if he can barely contain his mirth. “You should have seen it!”

“I think I’m fine without the visual, thank you,” the dragon says. “Perhaps if I had access to my elfin form, I’d find a naked orc more appealing, but for now…” Her sail-sized wings rustle on her back as she lifts them in what must be the dragon equivalent of a shrug.

The unicorn laughs so hard his breathing becomes labored.

Sturrm scowls at the unicorn with enough force that I almost expect laser beams to shoot from his eyes.

I can’t help but laugh too, even as my face heats with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to do it.”

“Yes, well, the magic crystal was in my pocket, so it’s wherever my pants are,” Sturrm says. Then he looks at me. “Which is where, exactly?”

“No idea. Sorry.” I shrug, empty palms raised. “Kind of new to the whole magic thing.”

“What magical power did you get?” the dragon asks, her green head tilting as she assesses me with a huge golden eye. Her pupil widens from a vertical slit into a tall oval.

“Healing,” I say, excited all over again. “I’m a healer.”

“Fascinating.”

“I still don’t understand how that made my clothes disappear.”

When I turn, my gaze falls on Sturrm’s still-naked chest. Yum. Zero regrets. I say, “I’d never seen a green man before.”

“I’m an orc.”

I nod slowly. Maybe I should have paid attention when that guy in college made me watchLord of the Rings? Then again, maybe not—I sure don’t remember those orcs looking anything like Sturrm.

“Anyway, I’d never seen an orc before, and I’m a medical student. So I kind of wished I could examine you and determine what you are, and… whoosh.” I spread my hands wide. “Bye-bye clothes.”

“Whoosh,” the unicorn repeats before breaking into laughter again.

“Humph.” Sturrm spins around and stomps over to two trees at the edge of the meadow. A large leather pack hangs six-feet off the ground, suspended in midair between the trunks using ropes. He unties them, and as soon as the pack hits the ground, he’s got it open, rummaging inside to pullout spare clothes. He yanks a dark-blue tunic shirt over his head with a pleased grunt and returns to us.

“I’m Dash, by the way,” the unicorn says.

“Hi, Dash. Selena.”

He nods.

“I am Sheevora the Magnificent,” the dragon says. “It is nice to meet you, human witch Selena.”

“Witch,” I breathe.

“Is the term a problem?” That head tilt again.

“Nope.” I shake my head. “I mean, there are a lot of people on Earth who think witches—or brujas—are evil, but my family never believed that.” Not with Abuela Abigail and all her stories.

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