Page 32 of Bound to the Orc King

Aldronn leans over and whispers in my ear. “Olivia makes various types of pizza-shaped human food that has other names and calls them pizza to get the pixies to eat them.”

I take my fork and mash the bites of potato until it forms a flat potato pancake, then lift the plate again. “There. Now it’s potato pizza.”

“Pizza!” The fluttering mass of pixies swarm my plate, tiny hands shoving chunks of potato into small mouths that hinge open wider than expected to show off an impressive amount of teeth. It’s a little creepy on something that’s otherwise so cute, but it only makes me like them more.

In less than a minute, every bit of food is gone.

“Ohhh,” the lead pixie groans, rubbing his slightly distended tummy. “Pizza is as tasty as all the stories say.”

“I’m glad you like it.” I grin and hold up a hand. “I’m May.”

“Pixies do not give out their names willy-nilly.” He lights on my palm, his wings tickling my fingers. “But I will consider you a friend.” His expression goes shrewd. “If there’s more pizza.”

His mercenary bargaining startles a laugh from me. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Then I dub you Almost Pizza!” He lifts his hands, and the rest of the flock cheers, cries of “Almost Pizza” ringing through the clearing.

I’m grinning so hard my cheeks hurt, but I can’t stop. Here I am in Faerie, and I’m a friend to the pixies! I’m living the story Mom used to tell about the pixies befriending a human girl. God, I wish she could see this.

After the tiniest, cutest burpever, he launches into the air and gives a high whistle. The rest of the pixies come close again, swirling around my head like a tiny galaxy of stars orbiting me as their center.

It’s magical. It’s perfect.

I clutch my crystal and try to imprint this moment on my memory. This one’s for you, Mom.

Another whistle, and they dart back into the trees, spreading out as they go until they look like tiny blue fireflies. They’re what I saw that first night!

A yawn takes me by surprise, and I slap a hand over my mouth, then say, “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m so tired. I feel like I slept half the damned day.”

“You used a great deal of magic this morning.” Aldronn offers me one of the blackberries spelled to clean teeth, then scoops me into his arms.

I should protest and say I can walk, but I don’t. Being cared for feels too freaking good. My hands go to his shoulders, and I hang on when he lowers me into the tent. Everyone always thinks I’m brave and fearless, the woman willing to travel the world on her own. And I am… most of the time. But I feel wrung out and vulnerable, and I don’t want to be alone tonight. A whisper slips from my lips as he tries to move away. “Stay.”

“Always.” Aldronn presses a kiss to my temple and gathers me close, his strong arms my sanctuary as I fall into the deepest of sleeps.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Aldronn

If the previous nights were torture because of how much I wanted to bed my bride, tonight offers torment of a different kind.

May settles into my arms, utterly trusting. There’s no ulterior motive, no attempt to get close because I’m king—she comes into my arms because she wants me, Aldronn theman, to hold her.

My heart aches in the very best of ways as I cradle her to me, this most precious of women. I’d known, intellectually, that I lacked a certain emotional warmth in my life. Yet holding my moon bound close makes me realize how much I truly need this.

How much I needher.

It goes beyond sex.

As much as I hated our morning encounter with the Moon Goddess because I couldn’t protect my bride, it ended up givingme one of the best days of my life. Talking to May, learning about her, has been astonishing.

It’s more than her willingness to travel and meet new people and explore new cultures, though all of that is wonderful. I will be lucky to have her by my side as the orcs reconnect with all the other realms and peoples of Faerie.

It’s that she finds such delight in life. Look at the way she reacted to the pixies, treating even the smallest of fae with care and joy. Her radiant smile pierced my heart. I would see her so happy for all of her days.

“My May,” I whisper, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. “My queen.”

She makes a sleepy little sound and moves closer, burying her face in the crook of my shoulder.

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