Page 6 of Bound to the Orc King

A deep grunt makes me roll over until I can look over the edge of the stone.

“What the hell are you?” I blurt.

Something built like the Hulk, only gray, climbs the side of the column like King Kong scaling the Empire State Building. He’s naked except for a fur loincloth and a massive two-headed axe strapped to his back.

Why do I get the feeling I’m supposed to be the shrieking blonde damsel in this situation?

Oh, hell no. This girl doesn’t do damsel.

I seriously need to figure out what’s going on here, and I need to figure it outnow. My crystal warms on my chest, and my hand instinctively curls around it.

He looks up at me and leers, his face crudely formed with a smashed-in nose and a mouth that looks like it was drawn by an unsteady hand. His smile sends warning signals flaring in my brain—red alert.

“Hello, pretty witch.” He reaches upward, his hand falling thankfully short. “Come here. I won’t hurt you any.”

There’s an echo right after the words, even though his mouth doesn’t move.“I’ll hurt you a lot.”

“Fat chance, asshole.” I jerk upright.

He grunts. “You speak ogrish. Good.”

Another echo:“I like it when I can understand their screams.”

“What the actual fuck, dude? What’s up with the creeper-talk? Do you get off on scaring women?”

Instead of answering, he starts to climb again.

I leap to my feet, whirling to see if there’s anything that can help. Sunlight drenches the surrounding forest. If the stone stood at the edge of the clearing, I could jump into one of the pine trees, but it’s right in the center, so there’s no way I can leap that far.

Fuck me sideways with a rusty spoon.

“You! You call yourself a goddess?” I scream up at the sky. That goddess who pretended to be my mom for a hot minute dropped me into this mess—she can damn well get me out of it. “Come and fix this!”

No ball of light appears. No woman’s voice sings out.

“Typical,” I mutter. Why should I be surprised? Both European and Chinese mythology are jam-packed with gods and goddesses screwing over humans.

A meaty gray hand slaps onto the top of the rock.

I stomp on it, bearing down with the low heel of my cute ankle boot. Why did I have to be so practical? A stiletto heel sure would be awesome about now.

Instead of letting go, or better yet falling off the side of the pillar, the asshole laughs.

Ihatebeing laughed at.

When I stomp again, he only laughs harder, small black eyes staring up at me with an unholy glee. His hand lashes out, grabbing my ankle.

“Shit!”

A man—agreenman—rides out of the trees on a white unicorn. He’s tall, with the kind of chest and shoulders you only get if you live at the gym or do heavy construction ten hours a day. Brown leather pants and a purple tunic shirt hug his muscles. He’s handsome, with a strong jaw and a gorgeous mouth framed by tusks. Long black hair flows behind him, kept from his eyes by a…

“Holy shit,” I whisper. “Is that a crown?”

“Get away from my bride!” he roars.

Bride? Do what now?

The hand wrapping my ankle releases to grip the stone once again.

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