Page 64 of Wrangling the Orc Cowboy

A tiny coo broke the silence. One of the chumble’s babies had toddled from the tumble and was peeping at its mother. The mama chumble snapped her head toward the sound, her body stiffening. She let go of the rocks, ignoring us as she dropped to the ground. With her wings tucked to her sides, she raced toward her young.

When she reached it, she herded it toward the rest of the tumble with her beak, then roused her babies with frantic nudges. While they squawked and peeped, she ushered them across the plain at a brisk clip, kicking up dust. One last whistle floated in the air before she entered the deep grass near the pasture, her tumble in a neat single-file line behind her.

That left the sorhox.

Its dark eyes locked on mine as I shifted Gracie in my arms. She clung to me, silent now except for the occasional shaky breath against the side of my neck. Sharga, perhaps sensing that one wrong move could send us sprawling, perched motionless for once, his claws digging into my vest with a stability unusual for a bird with his sass.

The sorhox pawed at the ground, snorting as its enormous head lowered again. He was clearly reluctant to give up his position as the beastliest thing on this side of the plain. He circled the cluster of rocks, his muscles rippling under his thick hide as he tested me, each side-eyed glance a taunt. Enough was enough.

I bent, easing Gracie to sit on the largest, flattest boulder I could find at the top. The moment she felt steady, and her armshad slackened their grip from around my neck, I jerked my hat tighter on my head and tipped my chin her way.

“Stay put. I’ll handle this, little lady.” Exactly what a true cowboy would say. My voice sounded calmer than I felt, but there wasn’t time to think about that.

Gracie’s eyes widened, but she didn’t argue. For a second, I wanted to lean down and kiss her, but a snort jerked my focus back to where the bull was still pawing long furrows in the dirt, marking how serious he was about making my life a challenge.

I leaped.

The air rushed past me as my boots hit the beast’s shoulders behind its horns, my feet sliding down as I locked my knees around his body. He bucked right away, his guttural bellows and smoldering huffs shooting across the plain. Sharga squawked somewhere above. He'd known better than to come along for this ride.

The sorhox twisted, lurching left and right. His muscles tensed and coiled beneath me as he spun and darted around, determined to knock me off.

I held on, gripping with my thighs and a hand wrapped around the base of one horn, the other in the air like cowboys do. The bull flung his massive head upward in protest. I growled low in my throat. The bull tried to buck me off again, kicking out and spinning, his back legs lifting so high he could’ve thrown me all the way to the next town.

I stayed on, clinging to his spine.

Seconds stretched into a battle of who’d outlast the other. Dirt sprayed and rocks clattered around us. When the bull's sides started to tremble and his lungs fumed, hot and shallow and with barely any more smoke chuffing from his nostrils, I dropped my head close to his ear.

“Give up?” I snapped.

The sorhox let out one last snort, jerking his head like he wanted to argue. His steps slowed to a tired shuffle, and the fight drained out of him in one whoosh.

I jumped to the ground, patting the beast's side like I'd seen wild west cowboys do with a cranky old horse. “On your way, now. Back to the sorhox ladies.”

With a grunt of irritation that sounded more tired than anything else, the beast trotted toward the pasture and the others staring in this direction as if they'd watched a show. The bull didn’t glance back at me.

Turning, I looked up to where Gracie still perched on the boulder, her hunched figure standing out against the wide blue sky behind her. She wasn’t shaking anymore, but her eyes were as big as Castree’s.

I strode over to the boulder cluster, standing as close to my mate as I could get without leaping up to join her.

I held out my arms.

“I'm home, little lady,” I said, doing my best imitation of a true wild west male. “Come give your big ole cowboy a kiss.”

Chapter 22

Gracie

Iwasn’t sure if I was more eager to kiss Tark or smack him.

“You.” I struggled to my feet, though my ankle hurt so bad I could only stand on one leg. I pretended it didn’t hurt. After all, I was a good actor. And I glared down at him. Maybe I’d smack him andthenI’d kiss him. After all, he’d saved my life from rampaging beasts.

But this infernal mark on my wrist! Why hadn’t he told me?

That, and he’d left me the morning after we’d made love. I hoped it was love. That was the feeling growing in my heart. He’d better return the feeling.

Or I’d smack him.

“You!” I said again.

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