Page 37 of Bound to the Orc King

I break through the last of the trees to race into the clearing, dropping the bag to pull my sword free. My heart skips when I don’t see May—only an ogre standing in the pond.Theogre. The one that dared to touch her that first day.

His hands beat at the water. Is he holding her under? Is that why I don’t see her?

I can’t breathe.

No.

No no no.

“Get away from her!” I bellow, leaping forward.

The ogre spins toward me and slides the battleaxe from his back. He strides forward, each large step carrying him up out of the water so more of him comes into view.

No matter how hard I search, I can’t see May. Surely she’d float to the surface without him holding her down? Where is she?

I splash into the water, legs swallowed as I stride toward him.

My sword leaps forward, meeting the downswing of his axe as we come together in a clash of metal. We stand, locked together, straining.

My muscles burn. The other Wild Fae is larger and stronger. But I refuse to let anything stop me. “Where. Is. My. Bride?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” His gray face splits into an evil grin.

Rage washes the world red as I shove him away.

I meet his next strike with a feinted block, letting his axe slide down my blade even as I hammer a punch into his gut.

His whined grunt is the first note in the song of pain I will make him sing.

I fight like a man possessed, years of warrior training distilled into this, my most important battle yet. The water impedes our legs, the bottom of the pond offering uneven footing. None of it matters.

Nothing matters but finishing him, so I can find May.

So he can never harm my bride again.

I slice across his chest, adding a new diagonal parallel to the scab left from our last fight.

He kicks out.

My thigh knots with pain, forcing me to balance on one leg for a moment. I feint, punching the tip of my blade toward his face to get him to back off.

“You fight for nothing, orc.” He sneers. “Your pretty little human went under the water and didn’t come up. Her body’s probably halfway to the sea by now.”

No. I won’t believe it. Ican’t. As long as my heart still beats in my chest, I’ll fight for my bride.

Ignoring the pain, I lunge forward. My blade plunges into the side he’s left open because he assumed I couldn’t move my injured leg.

He roars with pain and swipes down. The handle of his axe pounds onto my shoulder, the agony freezing the breath in my lungs.

I shove the pain down, down, down, and make myself move. A turn of the wrist twists my sword in his wound before I spinfree, sending black blood flying in an arc that patters onto the pond’s surface like the darkest of rain.

There’s a gasp, barely audible over the roar of the waterfall. But it’s a gasp I would know anywhere.

May.

My bride.

She’s alive!

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