Page 84 of Wrangling the Orc Cowboy

The car sat tilted in the ditch, its front shoved into the dirt.

With a clang, the rear door burst open, and Gracie spilled out, coughing. Her knees hit the ground, her hands slapping the tall grass.

Relief and rage twisted together inside me.

I bolted toward her, faster than I’d ever moved, my boots eating the distance. Before she had the chance to rise, I was there, lifting her up and holding her against my chest, my arms wrapping around her.

Sharga landed on my shoulder, but I was barely aware of him arriving.

Gracie gasped, running her hands up and down my arms. “Are you alright?”

“Fine.” I buried my face in her hair, inhaling deeply. She smelled like dust and sunlight and Gracie.Mine.

“Did they hurt you?” I snarled.

She pulled back and looked up at me. “No. I’m okay.”

The fire in my chest dimmed, but only a bit. I checked her over once, twice, making sure she truly wasn't injured. Asidefrom dirt on her knees and panic in her eyes, she appeared whole.

Her father groaned, pushing the car door open. My head snapped up. His eyes locked onto Gracie like she was still something he believed he could claim.

A growl rumbled in my chest. I eased around my mate and stepped forward, every muscle coiled, my body a wall between him and my mate.

Gracie’s fingers tightened around my wrist.

“Don’t,” she whispered. “It’s over. They lost.”

I stared back at her, her eyes still full of lingering fear but also something fierce.

She was right. They’d lost. They had no power here. Not anymore.

I turned back to her father, letting myself stand to full height, letting him feel every bit of the looming presence I cast.

Sharga soared off Tark’s shoulder, dive bombing her father’s face.

Chapter 30

Gracie

Dad shrieked and whipped his hands up.

“Sharga,” Tark barked out. The bird flipped up into the air, hovering above my father, who reeled away, his arms shielding his face.

After giving my father a shrill meow, Sharga returned to us, landing on my shoulder now.

I stroked his spine. “Such a good bird.” He preened.

My mother shoved her door open, climbing out of the tilted car with a furious huff, her immaculate hair askew for the first time in, well, probably ever. Even after crashing into a ditch, she still managed to look like she belonged on the front of a tabloid with some dramatic “Shocking Family Feud” headline slapped above her photo.

Dad continued to glare at us. I didn’t care. I was too busy sucking in air. My legs shook, and my heart was thundering from the sheer insanity of it all.

Tark had ridden to my rescue—on Castree, no less—then jumped onto a moving car like some kind of rampaging action hero mixed with an avenging angel who looked damn good in chaps and cowboy boots. He'd lost his hat, and that was a shame.

And still, my mother had the audacity to wipe imaginary dust off her blouse, lift her chin, and sneer. “That’sthe male you’re throwing your future away for, an orc pretending to be a cowboy?”

Tark didn’t flinch, but I felt the tension rolling off him.

My hands curled into fists. “Go. Don’t come back here or else.”

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