CHAPTER THREE（Untitled）Grace

CHAPTER THREE

Grace

I come to bathed in sunlight, sprawled out on my back on a hard surface.

"Whuh?" I scrub at my eyes, blinking up at a sky bluer than any I've ever seen.

Didn't I just fall? The memory of the stomach-dropping sensation still thrums through my body, as if I fell forever. I thought… I thought I was going to die, that Calvin's stupidity or obliviousness had killed me.

My hand presses over my heart, which thuds, sure and strong. Nope. Not dead.

Also, my crystal necklace is warm, really warm, against my palm. I sit up and pull it from my shirt, and my eyes pinball all around, not sure what to look at first. My crystal pendant glows like someone stuck a mini light bulb inside. That weirdness competes with the view all around me.

I'm on top of a tall column of stone in a small clearing in the middle of a forest, but it's not like any forest I've ever seen. Some of the trees are pines covered in deep blue-green needles, but other trees have bright-blue leaves like something you'd see in a movie.

The air smells fresh and clean like flowers and pine, and a gentle breeze brushes over my face and arms with the refreshing cool of a summer morning. It's quiet but for birdsong and the sound of the wind stirring the trees—way too quiet to be anywhere near the fairgrounds. There isn't a single building anywhere in sight.

Is this some kind of prank? Did Calvin knock me out or something and leave me here as a joke?

Why? He clearly expected me to keep doing his job for him. Or did he freak out when I questioned him and decide to get rid of the person who knew he'd been slacking? Because if people get hurt when his rides break, it'll be his fault.

But I was falling…

I shake my head and stand. Thank god, I'm good with heights from crawling all over rides, because the ground is so not near, and the sides of the stone are hella sheer.

And glowing! There are crystals all over the surface, and they're glowing light blue, just like my necklace!

Before I can figure out what any of it means, a rough croak comes from above, yanking my gaze up right as a black bird dives at me, red eyes blazing menace.

I throw up a hand to shield my face, and pain lances my palm where its pointed red beak jabs in. "Oww!"

It attacks again, another joining it, and a whole cloud of them darkens the sky overhead.

Shit!

What the hell is making them do this? I wish I'd never watched that old Hitchcock movie where birds start killing people.

More and more dive at me, and I can't see anything, my heart pounding, my breath coming in desperate gasps. I wave my arms, batting at them to try to fight them off.

They drive me back until my next step lands on nothing. I tip over backward, just like I did on the ride's maintenance platform.

Not again!

I can't hit the ground from this height! I need something to break my fall!

A zip of electricity shoots through me, and yellow flashes across my peripheral vision.

I hit a rubbery surface and bounce a few times before coming to rest in the middle of a… a bouncy castle? What the hell? There wasn't a bouncy castle here before!

The black birds wheel overhead, framed by the roofless walls of bright yellow. They're making lots of complaining squawks, like they can't believe the bouncy castle appeared, either. Then one of them dives toward me.

"Fuck this." I roll, the movement awkward on the squishy surface, and crawl out onto the solid, moss-covered ground.

They all dive toward me.

A man wearing green body paint runs out of the trees and scoops one of the birds out of the air with a bag. The rest of the black birds go quiet, hovering overhead with their red beaks and eyes still looking hella creepy.

He's seriously good looking, with high cheekbones and a strong jaw. But what really gets me are his eyes. They're gorgeous and a deep brown that's warm and full of life. He's also wearing fake vampire teeth, but kind of big and turned upside down, so they point up. His hair flows around his shoulders in a long, black wave. If that's a wig, it's one of the really, really nice ones.

Tall and built like a bodybuilder, he has lots of heavy muscle through his chest and shoulders. But this guy doesn't skip leg day. Those are some seriously buff thighs.

His clothes are like something out of Witcher —a deep-blue long-sleeved tunic shirt and brown leather pants and boots. He's got a sword strapped to his hip and a huge-assed bow on his back. This guy's gorgeous, like a movie star, one of those guys with his own chef and three personal trainers.

"Are you filming a fantasy movie or TV show?" I squint into the surrounding trees. "Where are the cameras?"

Then another thought hits me. Has all of this been some elaborate prank? Am I on reality TV?

No one leaps out, yelling "surprise!" Guess they're going to keep the joke going for longer.

Instead, he points to the bright-yellow bouncy castle, and a stream of foreign language pours from him. God, what is that? German, Gaelic, something Scandinavian? It could be any of them or none of them. I'm horrible at languages.

Still, I can guess what he's saying— "Why the hell did you put a huge lump of obnoxiously colored plastic right in the middle of my perfect movie set?"

"Hey, now. Your props people made that thing… appear, not me." I flap a hand at the bouncy castle. It popping into existence like that had to be some kind of special effect, right? "And that twenty-foot fall was no joke. I don't have any stunt training. I could have gotten hurt!"

He turns to face me with some serious bedroom-eyes action, hitting me with a double whammy when he adds a charming smile. "Drevistie."

My tummy flutters. Bad tummy! Stop fluttering for him!

The movie star stalks toward me. Oh, god. Is this the next part of the prank? Have the gorgeous guy pretend to find the plain-looking woman attractive and capture all of it on film?

Fuck that noise.

"I wish I had something to throw at him," I whisper.

A pillow pops into my hands.

Oh, god. If that's a special effect, I don't see how they're doing it. But it has to be right? Because if it's not, then… I'm doing it.

But why a pillow? A quick laugh bursts from my lips, bordering on hysterical. What an utterly useless thing! I guess they don't want their leading man getting his pretty face hurt.

"Here goes nothing." I lob it at him, and of course, he bats it out of the way.

Over and over again, pillows pop into existence in my hands, the crystal on my chest burning with warmth.

And over and over again, he knocks them aside, taking slow steps toward me. With those long legs, he could be on me in a flash. So he must be toying with me, drawing things out for the camera.

This becomes even more apparent when he grins and starts catching the pillows in order to drop them on the ground, one right beside the other.

I squint, trying to figure out what he's doing. Then he adds another pillow, and it suddenly becomes clear.

This asshole is making a bed!

"As if, buddy." I throw another three pillows in rapid succession.

He adds them to the others, filling in the last holes in the "bed."

Then he's on me in two strides, and it suddenly becomes clear that he's not just tall, he tops me by a good foot, which is really saying something since I'm almost six-feet. I feel smaller than a man for the first time in years, the kind of smaller that imagines his big body on top of mine…

No. Bad brain.

Up close, his green body paint is so immaculate I keep expecting a makeup artist to run out of the trees waving a sponge and demanding he hold still for yet another touch up.

His hands capture mine. He transfers both of my wrists to one of his huge hands, holding them easily. His other digs in his pocket, pulling out a crystal that looks a lot like the one on my necklace.

I guess I should be glad it's not a knife or cuffs or something. Not that monster-hands here even needs cuffs with fingers so long and strong.

Nope. Not thinking about how long his fingers are! Not even noticing. Not at all .

He taps the crystal to my collarbone, dragging it across my skin like a caress.

I shiver, my body reacting to his nearness, whether I want to or not. No! Bad body!

"There," he says, his deep voice making my stomach do flips. "You should be able to understand me now."

"What? How?"

"Magic, like you used to make the pillows."

Magic? No. That means all of this is real. He must be pulling my leg, trying to get me to agree that I have magic on camera so they can make even more fun of me.

His eyes flick to the "bed" and then back to me. He smirks, slow and wicked. "I like the gesture, but if you wanted me to take you to bed, my bride, you had only to ask."

"Gesture! Gesture? There was no gesture. I was trying to keep you away."

His lips press into a flat line but still tremble. Is he laughing at me? Oh, hell no.

I tug against his grip, and he holds on just long enough to make it clear that he's strong enough to not need to let me go. But he does.

I make a production of rubbing at my wrists as if he hurt me, and the smile falls from his face for the first time since we met.

"I'm sorry. Orcs are stronger than humans. I'll be more careful touching you in the future."

Orcs? So that's what his costume is. Then my brain processes the rest of his words.

"Hey now." I raise my hands palms out and back away. "There's not going to be any touching."

"Of course there will be. There'll be a great deal of touching ." His deep voice makes the word sound like a caress, and he flashes me that wicked, wicked smile again.

So many flutters—my tummy's throwing a whole damned party for him.

"You're my moon bound bride."