Page 7 of Bound to the Orc Warrior

In a blink, I’m on the ground.

And I’m no longer alone.

A green elf runs out of the trees, all pointy ears and fangs that stick up from his bottom lip. He’s drop-dead gorgeous with a sharply chiseled nose and cheekbones for days. Tall and muscular, he’s dressed in tight brown leather pants—major yum—and a light-blue shirt.

Then he pulls a sword—afreakingsword with a blade so sharp it glints in the sunlight—and bellows angrily.

He leaps past me, slicing a bird in two. The body parts fall, dissolving into nothing before they even touch the ground. Againand again, his sword flashes through the air, cutting the birds trying to get around him.

Trying to get to me.

He touches my arm, and a sharp snap twangs through my chest. What the hell?

“Oh, hell no. I appreciate the save, and you’re really hot, but no.” Whatever any of this is, I don’t want it.

I want to go home.

In a blink, I’m standing in the middle of a different clearing, the trees surrounding me covered in blue leaves. What the hell kind of tree has blue leaves? It’s a campsite, complete with a crackling fire and a circle of tan leather tents.

And a hell of a lot more of the green elves.

They leap to their feet, all talking at once in a language I can’t understand, and a deep voice answers from right behind me.

I whirl around.

It’s the guy from the stone pillar! He reaches for me. He’s put away his sword, but something else flashes in his hand.

“No! I want to go home!”

Another blink.

I’m standing in an open area in front of some of the strangest trees I’ve ever seen in my life. They’re huge, with wide, rounded trunks even bigger than redwoods. But unlike redwood trees, these don’t soar to the sky overhead. They only grow to about fifty-feet high, their tops sprouting multiple branches all covered in large, heart-shaped leaves.

The bottoms of the trunks might not have branches, but they do have doors and windows set into them!

They’re houses made out of trees!

More of the green elves pour out of them, all of them talking and pointing. A unicorn trots from behind one of the trees—a freaking unicorn!—their coat so white it almost gleams silver in the sunlight.

The deep voice speaks from behind me again.

I spin, already knowing who I’ll find, but my mouth drops open, because a Whirling Swings ride fills the area behind the green elf, the tall central column covered in brightly painted scenes, the swing chairs dangling on chains from the wide disk mounted to the top.

Stunned laughter bubbles up as I shake my head. “Yep, it’s official. You’ve lost your damned mind, Naomi.”

The elf says something, sounding concerned, and steps closer.

I retreat a few feet, but I can’t go far, because the other people now surround us.

I want to go home!

Blink. I’m back at the pillar of rock, the place this all started. Instinct makes me press both palms to it. When I first got here, the crystals in it lit up in time with my necklace. Maybe they can help.

The birds scream overhead, and the sound of a sword being drawn comes from behind me. The elf came with me.

I close my eyes and press my hands harder against the rock, focusing on one word and one word only.

Home. My real home!

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