CHAPTER SEVEN（Untitled）Grace

CHAPTER SEVEN

Grace

Branikk's huge body overwhelms me. He's everywhere , his thighs pressing the outsides of mine, his big hand on my stomach, his chest wrapped around my back. I've never felt smaller than a guy—not like this. And it's been way too long since I dated anyone. Not that I get many offers, but Calvin's flirting kept me from even thinking about anyone else all summer.

So my body's on hyper alert, tingling everywhere we touch, and we're touching in a lot of places. I feel sensitized, more aware of Branikk than I've ever been of anyone before.

God, could he really be my husband?

It's too much to take in. I'd been able to handle all of this when I thought it was a hoax. I still don't know what to believe. There's no way a bunch of birds can become a person, so that part's totally fake. Even if it was creepy AF. But the bouncy castle moved when the gnomes used it like a trampoline. Yet the way it disappeared into the ground… that had to be some kind of special effect, right?

If it's not, if all of this is real…

Then a goddess married me to a complete stranger without asking what I wanted. That's hella uncool.

But you do want him, a little voice whispers in the back of my mind.

Shut up, I tell her.

My inner voice laughs as Branikk's fingers dig into my stomach, making it flutter all over again.

Trying to distract myself, I focus on the scenery. We ride through the forest I saw from the top of the stone. The pine trees look fairly normal but not completely so, since they're a much more vibrant blue-green than any I've seen before. Clumps of ferns cover the ground, pale-green curlicues hovering over them like little patches of question marks. It's like the plant equivalent of "WTF?" asked over and over, and it fits perfectly with how I'm feeling.

We break through a couple of close set pines into a stand of the blue-leaved trees, and they're even more stunning up close. The oval leaves turn the sunlight a hazy blue as it filters through them. Silver curls cover the trunks instead of bark, like a PTA mom went overboard decorating a present with curly ribbon.

"What are those called?" I point.

"Blue birch," Branikk says, his hot breath brushing my ear and making me shiver.

Since when is talking about trees sexy?

"Do you not have them in your world?" he asks, his voice a deep rumble.

"No." I might not get the chance to see much nature when travelling with the carnival, but I'm pretty sure I'd know if blue trees existed. I wish we could stop so I could get a really good look to see if they're real or something a props department made. Though, this seems like a lot of effort for a props department. How could they prepare acres and acres of forest? Maybe we're actually riding in circles in a contained area, and they know I don't know enough about nature to tell.

God, I hate not knowing things! I'm a practical gal. Give me a machine, and I'll figure it out. Machines make sense. Machine designs follow set patterns and protocols. I love that about them. No matter how much bright paint and carnival lights covered the machines I worked on, they were solid and understandable at their core.

All this uncertainty makes my head hurt.

The unicorn gallops forward, leaping a small stream, rocking my body even more firmly into Branikk's.

He growls, his hand tightening on my stomach, sending my whole world topsy-turvy once again as my body reacts.

Why do I have a feeling I left certainty far behind me and I'm not getting back to it anytime soon?

We stop for lunch—or more like brunch considering I had no breakfast—in a small clearing with a patch of sun-warmed grass ringed by blueberry bushes.

Aurora stops in front of one of them and lips at a cluster of berries. "This bush is mine. Find your own."

Branikk laughs. "There's plenty to go around."

"Humph." The unicorn snorts and tossed her mane. "You're not the one who has to run all day carrying not one but two people and all of their things on your back."

"Have all the blueberries you like, my friend. One bush will be enough for us." Branikk slides to the ground. "And look. I ease you of your burden."

"You are quite heavy, you great mass of muscle."

He smiles, wide and charming. "Which is why I'm blessed to have such a strong mount."

She snorts and snaps up another cluster of dark-blue berries.

I try to dismount, wincing as my inner thighs protest.

"I've got you." His big hands hold me, lifting me down as easily as he lifted me up, making me aware of his size and strength all over again. Even if he made them in a gym, his muscles are no joke. I'm far from light.

"Thanks."

He takes my hand and gives a little squeeze.

I can't hide my wince as a jolt of pain spears from my palm.

He turns my hand over. "You're hurt!"

"Yeah, I think the birds got me a couple of times."

His eyes sharpen, roving over my arms as he turns them to see everything. "I was so focused on the idea of broken bones earlier that I overlooked these."

"They're not that bad." Honestly, I cut myself worse at work a lot of the time.

Branikk digs into a saddlebag and pulls out a pack, then leads me over to a fallen log. Once I sit, he crouches in front of me and wets a white cloth with water from a leather waterskin. His touch is gentle as he uses it to wash my hand. It comes away tinted pink with blood, but when he wets it again, it turns instantly white.

I open my mouth to ask, but know what he'll say—it's magic. My head already feels like it's going to explode from all the new stuffed inside, so I let it drop.

But I can't ignore his touch or the way he studies my arm so intently as he dabs delicately at one of the wounds. When has anyone taken care of me like this? Not since I was a small child. I grew into my height young. It made my early teen years nothing but teasing from the other kids, especially the boys I was taller than. It also made adults treat me differently, like I was older than my years, and Mom and Dad had never been that affectionate to begin with. They love me—they're just emotionally undemonstrative, like a lot of Scandinavian Minnesotans. I thought it was normal until I started to work the carnival and saw lots of different types of family interactions. I always ached a little inside at the really happy ones, the ones who gave lots of hugs and affection, wishing I had one like that.

Branikk works with the cloth until my hands and arms are clean, then pulls out a small pot of salve. It's a green almost as colorful as his skin, and it fills the air with an herbal smell. His touch is amazingly gentle as he dabs the palm of my hand with salve before pressing a small piece of bandage over top.

Over and over, he takes care of me, each soft touch melting a piece of my heart. A part of me doesn't even care if this is an act. It's just too nice to have someone show this much concern.

When he's done, he gives me water to drink. I don't know what I expected—probably something a little weird tasting from being in the leather waterskin—but it's sweet and clean and refreshing.

"I'm sorry lunch is travel rations," he says, offering me a light brown disk that looks like a thick cookie. "I'll hunt for dinner, but I want to get farther away from where the sluagh found you before we stop for that long."

I take a nibble, the flavor kind of like a nutty cracker. "It's not bad. I've eaten worse."

"Don't worry. My village has lots of good food, even human food, now that Olivia's with us." At my puzzled look, he continues. "She's the first human witch brought to Alarria. She can conjure, like you, only she makes food. Especially pizza."

My stomach growls, and suddenly the hardtack isn't quite as yummy as before, but I take another bite. "So there are other human women here." I mean, of course there are. I guess that's an easy way to not have to dress everyone up as an orc.

"There's also Ashley, who can fly, and Taylor, who moves things with her mind." He uses one of his tusks to bite off a large chunk of his dried biscuit.

I stare down at my empty hand, all this talk of magic and witches making my heart speed up with a weird longing. But it's nonsense, right? I wish for a sausage lover's pizza. No pizza appears, proving I don't actually have "magic" if the special effects people don't do their thing.

Branikk finishes off his food in a couple more big bites and goes to pick blueberries, not eating any as he does so. He holds the bottom of his shirt up to make a temporary bowl. When he returns, he sits down right beside me, his shoulder brushing mine. He holds a plump, purple-blue berry to my mouth. "These will sweeten your lunch."

I've never been fed by hand before, but what the hell. If he's willing to do it, I'll play along. I wrap my lips around the berry, and they tingle where they brush his fingers.

His eyes latch onto my mouth, darkening as his pupils dilate. He truly looks as if he's into me.

The plump sphere breaks when I bite, flooding my mouth with delicious sweetness. I moan. I always thought I liked blueberries, but now I'm not even sure I've ever had a real blueberry. These are the genuine article, the blueprint upon which all other blueberries are built.

Not even stopping to take one for himself, Branikk lifts another to my mouth. "Make that sound again."

I take the berry—I'm not stupid—but I fight down any such noises.

He holds the next berry back, his smile teasing. "No sound, no berries."

I dip my hand over, snagging a few of the plump balls straight from his improvised bowl.

"No fair."

" I'm not being fair?" I pop one of my stolen fruit into my mouth and crunch down, the juice all the sweeter for the theft. I've never flirted like this before—no one's ever wanted to—and I wouldn't have expected it, but I'm having fun. "You're the one holding my lunch hostage by demanding a porno soundtrack."

"What is porno?"

Oh, god, is he really going to make me say it? Heat flares in my cheeks, and I know I'm turning as red as a tomato. He's really going to sit there and pretend he doesn't know what it is? Fine. I'll play along and milk it for the cameras.

"It's a very sexy film of two or more people… together." I wiggle my eyebrows.

"Film?" His brow creases in exactly the right way, his acting top notch. He truly looks confused.

I pull out my phone and swipe to clear the lock screen. Damn. Zero bars. I should have expected it, since we're clearly in the middle of nowhere. I put my phone on airplane mode to save what battery I have left. Like most people, I stream almost everything, but I downloaded a few of my favorite scenes from Bridgerton season two, like when Kate and Anthony finally kiss in the garden at night. No matter how many seasons they've made of the show, that's the one I rewatch over and over.

"It's not porn," I say, holding my phone up, "but it'll give you an idea."

"What magic is this?" A look of incredulity covers his face as he watches the screen.

"Romance. Passion." I give an internal sigh as Kate tells Anthony not to stop. "Love."

One big finger hovers over the screen, which has frozen on the actors in a clinch. "You wish to be wooed."

Oh, god, I'm doing the thing I said I wouldn't do, showing that the plain gal longs for love, giving people something they can make fun of.

"Don't be silly." I stand up and waggle the phone. "It's not real. It's make believe."

"Love is real." Branikk looks up at me, a wealth of sincerity filling his dark eyes. "I love you."

My throat closes, clogged with emotion. I've wanted to hear those words for years. But not like this. Not as a joke.

"Now I know you're lying," I choke out. The romantic buried deep inside might believe in love at first sight, but I'm certainly never going to inspire it in a gorgeous guy like him. "You can't love me."