Bound to the Orc Guardian (Brides of the Moon Blade Clan #4)

CHAPTER FOUR

It doesn’t matter if the Moon Goddess made a mistake. I still need to get to the human witch she’s bringing to Alarria so that I can protect her. We can sort out which orc the goddess has bound her to later, once she’s safe.

Which is why I find myself riding a unicorn who’s got so much pooka in him that he’s mischievous instead of grumpy, like my old mount. Grumpy, I like. Grumpy, I’m used to.

“Hurry,” I say, leaning forward. The Moon Goddess brightened the night sky several hours ago. The human witch is near—and unprotected.

Dash whinnies a laugh, tossing his head so that the golden grooves in his black spiraled horn catch the morning light. “Patience, orc. I’m running faster than any unicorn you’ve ever been on.”

I grunt but can’t disagree. The pooka in his blood gives him special travel magic. Once he reaches a gallop, the landscape slips by us far faster than it should, trees smearing into a blur.

“Don’t make me regret aiding you,” he says, his hooves barely seeming to touch the needle-covered ground.

“I’m still not sure why you are.”

Dash appeared not long after I set out on foot, surprising me as I hiked through unfamiliar woods. His deep-black pooka coloring hid him from easy view in the dark of night. The fact that he chose to be alone in deep forest instead of with a herd on the plains is another sign he’s more pooka than his horn would suggest.

“Well, it certainly wasn’t your sparkling personality.” He turns his head to roll a golden eye at me. “I saw the goddess visit you and was intrigued. This is by far the most interesting thing to occur around here recently.”

“Thank you,” I grit out. I hate being beholden to him, but I cannot deny Dash has run well, using his travel magic for my cause.

The summons keeps pulling me ever farther away from orc lands. That must be why the goddess chose me for this task. I’m the closest orc available. Without the aid of dragon flight, any other orc would need to travel for well over a week to reach where I am now .

The goddess can’t have summoned me because this woman will be my bride. It’s simply impossible. I can’t be matched and mated—I lost my love already.

Yet when I try to summon Bruna’s face, all I get is a hazy impression of a smile bracketed by small tusks. Somehow, this hurts more than anything else. It feels like the ultimate betrayal to admit I’ve forgotten what she looks like.

The summons twangs along my nerves, setting them vibrating like a plucked string. “We’re close.”

“Indeed, we are.” Dash slows his gait, and the blurred trees around us snap into clarity as he stops using his travel magic. He leaps a fallen log.

I barely duck a tree limb I could swear he aimed for, my hands tightening in his dark mane. I used my magic to form one of my extra sheets of leather into a makeshift stirrups and saddle, but it’s far from as supportive as the real thing, and no Wild Fae will let themselves be bridled.

The way lightens ahead, indicating a clearing.

A deep growl of a voice grates across my ears. Ogres, my oldest and greatest foes. My lips pull away from my tusks in a snarl as I pull my sword free.

Dash darts through the last of the trees and into a glade containing a standing stone.

A kelpie stands to the side, his yellow-green scales glimmering as if slick. The equine fae are no friends to orcs, but I have eyes only for one foe.

A gray ogre towers over a human woman, blocking her almost completely from my view. Naked but for a crude animal pelt girding his loins, he wears a double-headed battleaxe on his back. An axe exactly like the one from all those years ago.

Rage, old and familiar, boils within me, washing the world red. I will not let him hurt her. I bellow, “Face me, ogre scum!”

He spins, one gray hand pulling the battleaxe free. His crude face seems half formed, the features roughly hewn. This isn’t the ogre who killed Bruna—I ended that one years ago—but it doesn’t matter.

I despise them all.

When I leap from Dash’s back, he lunges toward the scaled equine. “A kelpie to fight! See, I told you that you were interesting.”

Their clash becomes background noise as I barrel toward the ogre, my sword rising to meet the much heavier battleaxe in a peal of metal on metal. The strength of my moon steel blade holds true.

As do I. Like all of his kind, the ogre has a foot and a good hundred pounds on me. But it matters little. A righteous rage fills me, fueling my muscles, which are well honed by years of warrior training.

I use a glancing block to deflect his strike, leaving my sword in line to slice into his bare side, the sharp moon steel able to cut through his thick hide. Black blood oozes in the slow line. It’s a start, but it’s not nearly enough.

“Orc dog,” the ogre growls. “You’ll pay for that.”

“Oh, I doubt it.” I block his next attack easily. Ogres rely on their strength, having little patience for learning good technique. It shows .

“I will feast on your bones,” an unfamiliar voice says—the kelpie.

“Hah! You have nothing on a pooka or a unicorn, let alone the best of both!” Dash yells behind me, soon followed by the deep thumps of hooves striking flesh.

A whinny of pain rings out, then hoof beats.

“Yeah, you better run!” Dash says.

“Enough. The human is mine.” The ogre taunts me with a leering grin and lifts his battleaxe high. “She looks strong enough to use at least once.”

“You’ll touch her again over my dead body.”

I spin under his next strike, continuing the circular movement so that my sword whistles through the air and buries in his shoulder.

Black blood pours from the wound as he takes a fumbling step backward, almost crashing into the human, who stands with her back pressed to the standing stone.

“Come away now, ogre, or don’t come at all!” the kelpie screeches, thundering out of the trees, with a snap of triangular teeth.

The ogre grunts and leaps away from me, throwing his massive body across the kelpie’s back. It wheels and races into the trees.

“We should follow,” Dash says.

“No.” My eyes find the human.

She’s young, at least a decade younger than me, if not more. She’s short and heavily curved, with breasts and buttocks flaring outward from a slim waist. Her warm golden skin is set off by long brown hair with a touch of red to it. Pouty full lips and big, deep-brown eyes pull me in .

My time in Moon Blade Village means I’ve gotten used to humans, but none of the other women affect me like this. I take a step toward her, needing to touch, to know in my bones she’s all right. “My moon bound bride.”

The phrase slips from my lips before I can stop it. The shock of saying it jolts me back to reality. She can’t be mine. Bruna was my mate. So this sky gift must be for one of my clan mates, one of the ones in their twenties fully ready for a lovely young thing in the first flush of true passion.

Yet even as I think of what man might claim her, I scowl and stride forward.

Her necklace flashes bright, and magic tingles through the air.

Then everything tingles in the air as my pants and shirt disappear.

Her eyes go wide as they dip toward my cock, and she licks those plump lips.

It stirs to life, growing heavy with blood, betraying my attraction to her. Which only makes me more irritated, because how am I supposed to explain any of this to the man the goddess has matched her to?

“Where are my clothes?”

Her eyes snap back up to mine, and a liquid flow of syllables pours from her, the unknown words reduced to sounds without meaning, turning her sweet soprano voice into music. The beauty of it makes my erection swell even further. I suppress a groan. She’s like a plump peach that’s just reached peak ripeness, and I want to take a bite.

I grit my teeth and gesture up and down my body. “Clothes? ”

She shakes her head and shrugs, both hands held up, empty palms raised.

I crouch to wipe my sword clean on the moss, then sheath it. Thank the goddess, I still have my sword belt and boots. Then I walk over to Dash, grateful he didn’t lose my pack in his fight.

I pull out one of the leather sheets I brought with me. Calling my magic to me, I run my hands over the leather, letting my power whisper through it and mold it to my desire. It takes a while. I’m not the strongest of leather workers, which is one reason I became a warrior instead of pursuing leather work as my occupation. The other reason is Bruna. After losing her, I vowed to protect my people with all that I am so that no other has to live with the loss I carry.

When I’m done, the leather’s a pair of pants. I toe off my boots and get dressed—or half dressed as it were. I can do without a shirt until I get back to the supplies I left in the dragon meadow.

The human witch speaks, and I glance over to find her watching me.

“What’s she saying?” Dash asks.

“I have no idea. The crystal imbued with the power of the speaking stone disappeared with my pants.” Because of course it did.

“We’re a long way from the speaking stone,” he says.

“Too far,” I agree. The standing stone that allows all the fae from the various realms of Faerie to speak to each other is on the far side of the Umbriall Plains and well over a week away. “When we get back to the dragons, they can help. One of them holds the power of the speaking stone. ”

Just as I imagine this witch has the magic of this standing stone, whatever that might be. How can making things disappear be a useful skill?

Unless she can make our enemies disappear!

I stride over to the tall granite pillar and press my palms to it. Perhaps it will be one of those stones that works for everyone. Focusing on a rock near my feet, I say, “I wish this rock would disappear.”

Nothing.

I try a few more times, asking for various things to disappear with no results.

“Maybe it only works on clothes,” the pooka says.

“And how should I test this theory?” I growl at him. “I’m not going to lose the only pants I have.”

“ She’s wearing clothes.” He snorts and brandishes his horn toward the woman. “And I bet you can’t wait to get them off her.”

My glare can silence a guard room full of unruly orcs, but Dash only laughs.

Still, he’s right. I should test it to determine this standing stone’s magic. It’s the logical thing to do. That’s the only reason I’ll even try.

But when I look at the witch with her alluring curves and tempting bedroom eyes, my cock stirs, putting the lie to all my fine thoughts.

I do want her, damn it all.

She wears bright-blue human clothes in a thin fabric, the shirt and pants the same color, almost as if they’re some kind of uniform. As much as a part of me wishes to strip her as bare as she made me, I well know how miserable it would be to ride without the protection of pants, so I say, “I wish for her shirt to disappear.”

Nothing happens. I don’t know which is stronger—my disappointment that I can’t get the magic of the standing stone to work for me…

Or my disappointment that I don’t get to see her naked.