CHAPTER FIVE

The green elf's grin really shows off his tusks, which makes me think I should probably stop calling him an elf. Orc, then? Like in Tolkien, where orcs came from elves, but unlike Tolkien in that I don't think this dude's evil.

He cleans and sheaths his sword with quick, practiced movements. Then he advances on me, arms stretched forward to grab.

I know on some instinctive level that if he gets his hands on me, nothing will ever be the same again. Everything's already really effing strange. How much change can one girl take?

I throw up my hands and give a mental push. Nothing. Shit, why are my new powers so glitchy? It's as if I'm playing a beta version of a game and commands fail in certain situations.

Frustration eats at me as my arms drop, and I give another push, still disappointed my power doesn't work. Only this time it does, and my palms are pointed kinda back and down, and I just tried to push against a whole planet, so…

I fly forward and plow straight into the orc. He falls backward, and we hit the ground in a confused tangle of limbs. I land on top, resting on muscles so hard it feels like they must have more muscles of their own—screw turtles, this guy is muscles all the way down. My hands slide over his chest so I can push upright, my fingers bumping over the rises and valleys of what feels like an anatomy lesson on the male form.

Worse, I'm straddling him, the width of his firm thighs spreading mine wide. It's making me tingle with a sudden awareness of him as a man—a really, really attractive man. I should probably be put off by the tusks and the green skin and the size difference, but I've been playing, reading, and watching fantasy since I was a little kid. Even at five, I felt cheated when Beast turned back into the prince. And don't get me started on smart Hulk—smart Hulk is my jam. Plus, it's been too long since I last dated anyone.

That's what I try to tell myself, anyway, when his strong arms wrap around me and his deep voice vibrates through my whole effing body, making me tingle even more.

Usually, I don't like being touched by strangers when I feel unsafe, but I'm okay. Which means… he's an okay kinda guy. Mom always says I should trust my gut, and mine gives him a double thumbs-up.

One of his hands moves from my back and slides between us, right below my hip.

I give a little yelp and try to roll away. Right when I think the guy's okay, he tries to cop a feel!

His other arm holds me in place like a steel band, giving me time to figure out what he's actually trying to do—he's digging around in one of his pockets.

A soft laugh of relief puffs from my lips. My instincts have never been wrong before, and I didn't want to face the thought of them not working in this new world.

He pulls out a crystal and holds it in front of me. It looks a lot like the one on my necklace. A quiver of excitement goes through me as a realization clicks into place—it's the feeling I get whenever I solve a new problem in a game. Crystals connect to power in this world. He's offering me some kinda power, healing, energy, knowledge, etc.

Or the crystal's some kinda power-drain he can use to steal my power.

I study his face, his features as chiseled and perfect as a movie star. I know you're not supposed to judge people by looks, but he also saved me from that monster, and my instincts still say he's okay, so…

I'm gonna feel really effing stupid if a pretty face and hard body are all it takes to fool me. I snatch the crystal from his hand, my stomach bracing in case the worst happens. A little zing of electricity shoots through me, but nothing more.

"Did it work?" he says, his voice rich and deep and suddenly speaking perfect English. "Can you understand me?"

"Yes!" I gaze at him in awe. I've played video games since I was a kid, walked avatars through a million amazing scenarios and used them to do thousands of impossible things.

I never felt a single one of them in my own body.

Not like this.

Not like the thrumming hum of power that continues to fill what had been the hollow space inside me. It's glorious!

"I'm Krivoth, a warrior of Moon Blade Clan currently in service to his majesty, King Aldronn."

That certainly sounds important. What can I say that comes close? Junior game writer doesn't exactly have the same ring. Then I grin and highlight my other skills. "I'm Taylor Adams, level seventy Mage of the Swordhold Seven."

"Mage?" He frowns. "You're not a witch like the other women?"

"Witch." The word echoes through me, striking the same chord of rightness it had as when I thought it earlier. I stare at my hand, amazed all over again at what I can do. "Yes, I'm a witch."

Then the rest of his words sink in, and my eyes fly up to his face. "Other women?"

"You're the third human the Moon Goddess has brought to Alarria. You're my—"

"Are you going to keep rolling around on the ground?" a deep voice snarks. "Because we have places to be, and ogres in the vicinity." A unicorn steps into the clearing. Tall and gleaming white, he has a long spiraled horn jutting from his forehead.

I gape up at him. A talking unicorn! This is cool as hell.

He turns a frosty blue eye on the two of us. "Is this one of your mating rituals?"

"What?" I yelp, pushing upright. Heat blazes across my cheeks. Oh, god. I just had an entire conversation with Krivoth while lying on him. "Mating? You mean like…" I flap a hand toward our groins.

"Of course, I mean like." He stomps a hoof as he says the last word—it must be the unicorn version of air quotes. I revise my mental wiki entry, adding "unicorns are grumpy" to "unicorns can talk."

"This is Storm." Krivoth nods toward the unicorn, then rolls sideways, lowering me gently until my hip rests on the soft moss.

I sit up. "Hi, Storm. I'm Taylor." Oh, no! Should I have done the long name thing?

Storm doesn't seem to notice the lack. He lowers his head to the top of mine and takes a few snuffling breaths that stir my hair.

"You found other ogres?" Krivoth asks. That must be what the gray monsters are called.

"No, just the one." Storm tosses his head, sending his silver mane flying in what must be the unicorn equivalent of a dismissive hair flip. "But where there's one…"

"You're right." Krivoth stands with lithe grace for someone so large. God, he's the perfect blend of suppleness and power. He offers me a hand, pulling me to my feet effortlessly.

He walks over to the stone column and slaps a hand to the hard surface before looking over his shoulder at me. "What did you wish for to activate the standing stone?"

Do what now? I give my head a quick shake and shrug.

"What kind of power did the standing stone gave you? The one you used to toss me about."

I blurt the first word that comes to mind, "Telekenesis!"

He scowls. "Tele-what?"

"The ability to move things with your mind."

"I wish to move things with my mind." His fingers flex on the rock as if trying to dig in. "Dammit, I don't feel any magic."

"Yeah, I'm not sure it's the words so much as…" I scrunch up my nose, trying to reach for the feeling. Why does my power work sometimes and not others? I seriously need to figure this out. "I think intent plays a part." That isn't the full answer—I totally intended to knock the ogre away from me that second time yet couldn't—but it's the best I've got for now.

A brown ball soars through the air and smashes into the side of the standing stone, releasing a billowing cloud of orange gas.

I suck in a startled breath, and a sickly sweetness coats my tongue.

"Deathsleep!" Storm yells, rearing up on his hind legs.

Shit! In a game, anything with "death" in it is very bad, not good, super horrible, do not want.

Krivoth pinches his nose shut with one hand while the other scoops me off my feet and tosses me up onto the unicorn's saddle as if I weigh about as much as a feather pillow. Then he's up behind me, a hot, hard wall of muscle and male.

He palms my stomach, his long fingers splayed so wide his thumb rests in the valley between my breasts.

Storm leaps toward the trees.

The jolt throws me backward, my butt lifting from the saddle. Krivoth's hand and body are the only things keeping me from flying off. His thighs tighten around mine, and he leans forward, taking me with him. His free hand grips the silvery mane, his arms around me, and I'm swallowed by his size as we rocket forward into the trees.

I've always been small, but Krivoth's so much bigger than a human man that I'm now downright tiny.

And it's causing a strange tickle low in my tummy. Or is that the danger?

Needle-tipped branches slap against him as we barrel forward, but he shields me completely, leaving me free to enjoy the sheer exhilaration of speed.

My heart races with excitement, and each gulped breath of air brings the clean scent of pine and flowers. I wanna ask what it means that I breathed in the orange stuff. Am I in danger? But neither of them talk, so I stay quiet too.

Then Storm's gait falters, and he slows. Another irregularity as one of his front knees buckles.

"Stop!" Krivoth calls out, tugging on the unicorn's mane.

It isn't clear if it's the command or simply that he can't go any farther, but Storm stumbles to a stop.

Right as the unicorn crumples to the ground, Krivoth leaps from his back, taking me with him. His body wraps around mine in midair, and we hit with him taking the impact on his back. After sliding a few feet across leaves and moss, we slow to a halt with me sprawled across his chest. Again.