Page 50 of Rough Riding Orc Cowboy

The mother chumble’s scales bristled, flaring out like those raptors in Jurassic Park, and her piercing gaze darted across my frame. She released another ear-splitting shriek, and her body dipped lower, her muscles tensing.

My stomach dropped. Numbness spread from my lungs outward, like a part of me was bracing for pain I couldn’t avoid.

I flung myself backward, scrambling to keep my footing, my limbs shaking.

The mother chumble charged right at me.

Pivoting, I dropped my tote of sticks and branches and bolted. I barely made it two steps before my boot caught on a thick root. The world tipped. I tipped. I crashed down onto my side, the fall ripping the breath from my lungs. Pain slashed white-hot across my right arm.

Blood welled instantly from the cut, warm and slick as I clamped a trembling hand over the wound. Damn sharp branch had sliced my arm open. It stung and it was bleeding.

The chumble screeched again behind me.

I rolled onto my back, my pulse surging up into my throat. My arms felt boneless, useless. Everything in me screamed to move, but fear had clamped down too tight.

A wall of feathered scales and fury was bearing down on me with her talons ready to tear into my flesh and there didn’t seem to be anything I could do to stop it from happening.

A growl split the air from close by.

The chumble hesitated, her wings flaring, a low warning call wheezing from her throat.

Ruugar slammed himself between me and the mother chumble with his shoulders squared, his tusks gleaming, and rage rolling off him in heavy waves. A warning rumble built in his chest, vibrating in the air like a distant storm, the force of it rattling my bones.

The chumble screeched again.

Ruugar did not flinch. His massive arms spread wide, his muscles taut, his tusks bared.

Take that, mother chumble. He didn't have wings, but he sure was impressive. No weapons, no blade. Just this orc I was beginning to fall hopelessly in love with.

The chumble took another step in our direction, but Ruugar roared a deep, gut-wrenching bellow that sent birds exploding from the trees around us.

The mother reared back, hissing, her scales bristling. But even she knew she’d found something too dangerous to challenge.

For a long, grating second, predator and protector faced off.

Then she hissed one last time and pretty muchsneered before dragging her wings close. Her beady eyes never left Ruugar as she let out a rattling hoot and nudged her babies with her beak, ushering them into the dense undergrowth.

The pink fluffballs squeaked in protest but did what they were told.

I would too.

Obedience had always been easy.

That was the part that scared me most.

Chapter 18

Ruugar

The mother chumble slunk into the forest, nudging her tumble of pink babies ahead of her. Only when she was out of sight did my knees hit the ground beside Beth.

“Are you hurt?” The words came out rough, too forceful.

Beth blinked up at me, wide-eyed, her breath coming fast. Her face had lost all its color, but she was upright, conscious. That was something.

She lifted her arm. Blood seeped from a long gash along her right forearm, trailing down in thin droplets.

A muscle jumped in my jaw. The breath in my chest turned white hot and a growl ripped up my throat. Anger at the bird, at myself for not watching over her, for not getting here sooner, was determined to claw its way free.

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