CHAPTER TWELVE

The admiration shining from my bride's eyes is almost more than I know how to deal with. No one's ever looked at me like that. I want this moment to never end.

I also want to pick her up and crush her to me, to take her mouth in mine and lose myself in the joy of her kiss. All the hot promise of finding her body pressed to mine when we woke floods back into me, stiffening my erection so quickly I have to adjust before my piercings catch on the leather of my pants.

Storm snorts, clearly knowing why I moved, and I glare him to silence.

"Are we going to sit here all morning?" Mist asks. "Now that we have this grand quest, hadn't we better be getting on with it?"

"We'll walk in the correct direction until we find a meadow," I say. The unicorn tries to protest, but I talk over him. "Where we'll stop and allow Storm to eat and Taylor to practice her magic."

"You'll ride," Storm says.

"No." I stand.

"I'll at least carry the saddle and saddlebags."

I stare at him for a moment, recognizing his words for bruised pride—after all, I've lived with it for all of my adult life. It's an uncomfortable feeling I don't wish on anyone, so I say, "Very well. I'll carry Taylor."

She startles, looking up at me. "I can walk."

Before I can say anything, Mist says, "You can, but as we saw getting to the creek, you're slow and loud."

"I am?"

"Don't worry, human. You have many other endearing qualities." Mist walks over and strokes her cheek across Taylor's shoulder.

My moon bound smiles, immediately forgiving the cat and scratching at her chin while I saddle Storm.

As we get ready to head out, the feline fae sidles close. "You can thank me now, orc. I got you your pretty prize." She tips her head toward Taylor.

I glare at Mist until she walks off, her tail curling lazily through the air as she laughs her cat laugh.

But my indignation is a lie, as becomes all too clear when I pick Taylor up and pull her to my chest. My heart races as I carry my bride away from the creek, the sweet smell of her perfuming the air, her hair tickling my chin, and the delicious weight of her in my arms.

Holding her close is indeed a prize.

Hours pass as we walk. Taylor dozes off, her body melting against mine. Her face nuzzles into my neck until she pushes aside the collar of my linen shirt. Each soft puff of breath over my bare skin sets my senses racing.

I could walk to the ends of Alarria like this and count myself a lucky man.

The feline fae shoots me sly, knowing glances every chance she gets, and I bare my tusks at her until she once again slips out of sight. Mist acts as our party's scout, ranging ahead to ensure no foes lie in wait. With Storm able to gallop at full strength, we usually travel at great enough speed not to warrant such, but at this slow crawl, I'm glad for her extra caution.

Not that I'll tell the annoying cat anything of the sort.

Finally, the way ahead lightens, tree trunks thinning only slightly before stopping completely. Storm's steady pace picks up in one last burst of speed as he canters out into a wide meadow of knee high grass dotted with wildflowers. He begins grazing immediately, putting paid to the lie that he didn't need to. Fighting off the effects of the deathsleep clearly took a lot out of him, since his body fuels his magic, exactly as mine does for me.

Only those blessed with the rare power of a standing stone can tap into almost infinite power. The stone that gave Taylor magic didn't work for me, so it's not one of the ones that work for everyone, like the cleaning stone near my village. Which means Taylor must be gifted not only with a special ability unknown in Alarria but also with an inexhaustible supply of power. My bride will become one of the most formidable magic wielders in all of Alarria.

Dreams of glory fill my mind. When I return to the king with both her and the violet trifolia, he'll do more than make me a guard. King Aldronn will make me one of his top military advisers, perhaps even a general. We haven't had any generals in all our years in Alarria, but stories of our home realm of Avalon speak of them, of how the orcs were part of a huge fae army, fighting alongside the elves.

I step into the meadow, and Taylor stirs as the sunlight hits her closed eyes, murmuring a sleepy protest into my skin.

She's lovely, bathed in light that adds a warm glow to her tan skin and picks up glints of gold in her wild hair. When she blinks up at me with those big brown eyes, my arms tighten, well ready to forget I have any purpose in life but to hold her.

No—I give myself an internal shake—my dreams will only become a reality if I make them so.

"We're here," I say. "Time to practice." Because the sooner she masters her powers, the better, both for our quest and so that she'll be well versed in them by the time I present her to the king.

Her eyes brighten, and she smiles. "Time to show those pinecones who's boss."

"They will tremble in fear," I say, making her laugh, the high sweet sound piercing straight into my heart.

Mist appears beside us, a smoky outline growing ever sharper, showing off her magic.

Taylor jumps and laughs again. "Your power is so cool."

"Of course it is." The cat sith's tone sounds smug. Her head swivels as she takes in the meadow. "How are we going to do this?"

I set Taylor down, and we all look out over the open grass. It's high enough that any pinecone set on the ground will be lost to sight. Trees wait on the other side, about fifty yards away. I point. "You could use those as target practice."

My moon bound frowns. "I don't really want to hurt trees."

"I normally wouldn't either," I say. "But our quest is important." My plans are important.

She looks up at me. "Can we find another way?"

Frustration clashes inside me, the dueling desires of needing to succeed and wanting to please her. But pleasing her in this small thing will help with my larger goal. I tip my head. "I will try to find something."

Her radiant smile follows me all the way back into the trees, lightening my steps even more than my magic can.

I am a man bewitched and happy to be caught in her spell.