Page 18 of Bound to the Orc Warrior

With no meadow or glen in sight, Zephyr comes to a halt near a dogwood tree. “I suppose this will have to do.”

A pang goes through me. My friend galloped hard to get me to my bride. Even with unicorn self-healing magic, Zephyr still pushed hard. I slide from her back and press my hand to her withers. “We’ll camp in a meadow tonight, so you can graze.”

She humphs and lips a cluster of tender green leaves, chewing them quickly as her jaw moves from side to side.

I lift Naomi down and can barely make my hands release her, my fingertips flexing against her lovely softness. She looks up at me, her eyes full of questions I don’t have the answers to.

Fuck, I don’t even know who I am—not really. I don’t know my parents or my true home. What can I offer her but a life of travel, half of it spent in tents instead of the comfort of a cottage?

It’s no wonder she doesn’t want to stay.

“I’ll be back,” I grit out through a tightening throat.

Then, I’m off, moving into the trees. I pause for several moments while my magic spools out of me, seeking a game animal to track.

There! I set off again, moving as quietly as possible, stepping over downed logs and skirting clumps of fern. My feet glide over the moss and pine-needle covered ground. I take another step—

An invisible hand picks me up and flings me across the world. I land on my knees, impacting a crouching Naomi’s back. She jolts forward, and quick warrior reflexes make my hands snap out to catch her by the shoulders before she can hit the ground. When I pull away, I can finally see her…

And her beautiful buttocks, bare and begging for my hands.

CHAPTER NINE

Naomi

Wranth disappears into the trees before I can ask him for the magical cleaning cloth he told me about. My bladder gives an insistent twinge. I don’t know how long it’ll take him to hunt, but it’ll be too long. Besides, there are only two saddlebags, so how hard can it be to find?

I lift the leather flap of the one closest to me, only to find another huge piece of leather filling the top so tightly I can’t get it to budge. I stand on tiptoes and poke all around it, but I can’t feel how to get past it. “What evenisthis thing?”

Zephyr turns her head. “That’s the tent. It and his sleeping furs fill most of that bag.”

“Thanks.” I reseal the bag and cross to her other side. This one’s also packed with military precision, but it’s a lot of little items this time. I grab a white cloth and a leather waterskin anddart into the trees. When I find a good log, I pull up my skirt, shove down my jeans, and sit so my thighs rest on the wood, my butt hanging off the back. It’s an old camping trick that keeps my calves from being splashed.

As soon as I’m done, I waddle forward several feet to use the cleaning cloth. When I pour water on it, a zip of magic shivers through the air. It tingles as I wash up, and another splash of water leaves it pristine and sparkling.

“This thing is the best!” I go ahead and wash my face, removing the last traces of mascara and eye shadow, then I refresh the cloth again and strip off Hannah’s cardigan to have a look at my forearms.

A firm body tackles my back, and I plow forward into what will be the face plant to end all face plants. But strong hands grip my shoulders, keeping me upright, and the press of firm muscle moves away from my back.

“Naomi,” Wranth growls, his voice hoarse.

Oh, god! Here I am, still squatting, my freaking butt hanging out, because I wanted everything to air dry.

With a squeak, I shoot up to standing, bending over to yank at my jeans and panties. The thick denim gets caught on my thighs, like always happens when I’m in a hurry.

Wranth makes a strangled sound as I get stuck, leaning over, my butt in the air.

My face heats. I’ve got a great ass, and I’m not ashamed of my body, but I also don’t usually go waving it in the guy’s face on the first date.

Though, is it even a date if he’s my husband? Dear god, is this ourhoneymoon? A slightly hysterical laugh escapes as I tug at the jeans.

Big hands cover mine, the fingers strong and sure. “You’re making it worse.” His voice is a deep rasp that slides over my skin like a caress, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

He untwists the fabric and tugs it up my thighs and hips.

I reach down and give my panties a quick adjustment. Then I zip up my jeans. Squaring my shoulders, I spin to face him. After all,I’mnot the one who just tackled a half-naked woman. If anyone needs to feel embarrassed around here, it’s him.

“What were you doing? Couldn’t you see I was…” I fling out a hand in euphemism.

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