Page 38 of Bound to the Orc King

My heart pounds in my ears as hope and relief bubble in my chest. I glance toward the sound, needing to see her with my own eyes.

The round oval of my moon bound bride’s face emerges from the front of the waterfall as if pushing through heavy curtains. May’s wet-darkened hair is plastered to her head, her clothed form dark under the blur of tumbling water. Thank the goddess she wears my shirt, the wet cloth turned a dark purple that blends into the water far more than her pink human shirt would have.

She must be standing for her head to be at that height, which means she’s uninjured.

Yet the ogre hears her too, his gaze flicking over to her before meeting my eyes. He smacks his lips. “Well, well. It seems we battle for a tasty prize, after all.”

Pride roars in my chest. It doesn’t matter that he’s five times her size and has a fae’s keen senses. I never would have thought of it, but my brilliant May used the waterfall to fool him. She must have swum to it underwater in order to hide so thoroughly, which is no mean feat—the current close to the falls is quite strong.

My bride is truly amazing.

Now it’s my duty to finish this threat once and for all.

“You will never touch her again,” I growl, baring my tusks.

“Big talk, orc.”

“It’s not talk.” My sword dances through the air, the pure moon steel catching the light in brilliant flashes that distract his attention. “It’s my vow to her.”

The ogre lets out a wordless battle cry, his double-headed axe whistling toward my head.

I sidestep, blocking with my sword lifted hilt high, point down. Instead of a hard block, I redirect his strike. It slides down the length of my blade, and the second the pressure disappears, I whip my sword forward.

He’s overextended, his axe a good foot away from me now. With how close we stand, it might as well be miles.

Feral bloodlust pulls my lips back from my tusks as I plunge my blade into his heart.

The ogre makes a choking noise, and one of his hands grips my shoulder while the other bangs the axe handle into my side.

I snarl and step closer, burying my sword deep.

His fetid breath gusts over me in ragged pants, and he sags, his arms dropping to his sides. The axe hits the water with a splash.

“You should never have touched her.” I step backward and kick him off my sword, and the force of it makes him disappear into the water. My blow pierced his heart—I know it did—yet I can’t leave a potential foe at my back. I flick my already wet blade through the water to wash away the blood so I can sheathe it. I’ll need to dry everything out and oil it later.

I kick forward, catch something solid, and the ogre’s arm floats up to where I can grab it. He doesn’t react, as dead as I expected, but I don’t want him decaying in the pond. Even with a constant influx of fresh water, it would still pollute the pool.

I haul him across the water, his muscle-dense body fighting me in its desire to sink. Yet I will not be bested by him, even in death. With one last heave, I shove him into the outflow, lettingits swifter current take over and carry him into the river where he’ll do some good by giving the fish a feast.

Once he’s several yards downstream, I spin and race to my bride.

“Aldronn!” She leaps from the waterfall into my waiting arms. “I called for you telepathically! Did you hear?”

“I did.” I crush my moon bound close, reveling in her warmth and solidity, and lift her so I can see her beautiful face more clearly. “My magic had already warned me about the attack. Your call came not long after. I didn’t receive much warning.”

“Probably because they got here so fast.” Her hands cling to my shoulders. “The kelpie galloped straight down the waterfall as easily as running on flat ground! It didn’t look real!”

“It’s their water magic. They can use it to travel far faster than you’d ever expect, entering a river in one place only to emerge miles away in the blink of an eye.” Holding her tightly, I do a slow spin. “Where is the kelpie?”

“The water nymphs came right behind them. They yelled at the kelpie to leave me alone and called me their friend!” She flings an arm toward the far side of the pond where the river continues its journey. “They dragged the kelpie away.”

“Then I will name them my friends, too,” I say. “For they have done me the greatest of services in aiding you.”

Her eyes soften.

I brush away a strand of wet hair clinging to her cheek, my fingers following it down her neck to where her pulse beats, full of life.

To think I almost lost her!

---