CHAPTER NINE

My whole world narrows to the feel of Krivoth's arms around me, the hypnotic thump of his heart, and the tingle of his magic racing just below his skin.

I'm caught, enchanted, as he glides us through the dense trees of the forest as easily as walking across an open meadow. His body moves with an effortless grace that makes me wanna tear his shirt off, to get closer to those flexing muscles, to feel the press of skin on skin.

And magic! His power thrums through him, echoing into me wherever we touch. I've never felt anything like it. It sets my whole body alight.

And it's not just the magic. His smell, a heady mixture of leather and pine and something that's uniquely him, fills my nose. My clit tingles, demanding sensation, and my thighs tighten around his waist. I barely stop myself from grinding against him. We only just met! I never get this interested this quickly in a guy.

But Krivoth's not simply a "guy." He's an orc, one of the Wild Fae, and his magic calls to mine. And it's more than that. It's the way he looked at me when my power tossed him across the clearing—like I'm the most amazing person he's ever met. Every time in the past I've bested a guy at something, they resented it. Oh, they'd smile or crack a joke about the "little girl" being full of surprises, but I could still tell they hated it.

Krivoth's the first man to look at me with pride and awe, and it's effing sexy as hell.

Task at hand, Taylor, I remind myself. Gotta learn how to use my power. Gotta level up.

Then he'll look at me that way again.

I crush my eyes closed and press even closer to his firm strength, my fingers clutching at his wide shoulders. The longer he walks, the more I get lost in the feeling of his magic, the power inside me resonating with his, full of potential.

"Is it working?" he whispers, or tries to whisper. His voice is so deep it rumbles from his chest and straight into where I press against him.

I nod, my forehead sliding up and down his hard pec, and whisper back, "I feel your magic and mine." I should add all of this to my mental wiki, but words can't capture the way Krivoth makes me feel.

He slips through the trees, bringing us back to the tiny open space where Storm and Mist wait. When he stops, I make no attempt to let go, instead pressing closer, my body unwilling to release him.

Finally, he bends forward, his hands splayed across my back to support me, and I unwind my legs from his waist so I can stand. His arms slip from me as he straightens, and my traitorous fingers fist the fabric of his shirt for several more seconds before reluctantly letting go.

"Are you ready to try again?" Mist asks, her eyes laughing as she glances back and forth between us with a knowing look.

"Yep!"

"I'll drop more pinecones, then." She leaps for the nearest tree, her body uncoiling in midair to stretch into an impressive length. Her front paws hit the bark, and wicked curved claws a good inch long dig in and pull her upward. Her back paws find purchase, and she swarms up the tree far more quickly than a cat that large should be able to move.

I swing my arms a few times and bounce on my toes, getting my blood pumping like I always do right before I plant my butt in my special gaming chair for a long campaign.

"Ready?" Mist calls from above. A pinecone sails from the tree, a dark dot against the small opening of light blue sky.

I throw my hands up and try to call upon that same feeling I sensed when Krivoth worked his magic. Nothing happens.

The pinecone keeps coming, and I flinch, still not used to the idea that thing will affect my real body instead of my gaming avatar.

Krivoth's green hand snaps across my vision, batting the pinecone away.

"Again," Mist says, only a split second before another pinecone sails through the air.

I brace, ready to blast it into the sky.

"I am Error." A huff of amusement escapes me as I flop back onto the soft pine needles covering the ground. The Legend of Zelda saying is a play on words for video game bugs, and I certainly feel like I'm running bad code, since I can't get my magic to work. The sharp points of a pinecone dig into my lower back, and I arch up to scoop it out before collapsing again. "I'm ready for my training montage now."

"Montage?" Krivoth frowns over at me, still standing, not the least bit tired.

But I've been at it for hours. Mist changed trees twice because she kept running out of pinecones, Krivoth swatted every single one of them away, and I—

I stood there, throwing my hands up like an action hero, but doing nothing. Even catchphrases didn't work. I yelled, "shazam," "cowabunga," "finish him," and even "hulk smash," but nothing worked.

"A montage is when a person learns a new skill but really sped up. You see all these quick clips of them making progress, and after a few minutes, they've leveled up and are experts."

"I thought you said your world didn't have magic." He scowls. "Because that sounds impossible."

"Yeah, you're right." It doesn't even work like that in gaming. You have to put in the long hours to learn the skills and get the in-game loot and equipment you need to complete each level. I've simply never had to do it with my real body before.

It's also irritating that my magic swirls inside me, a restless thing eager to act, if only I knew how.

Mist leaps to the ground, having climbed headfirst down the tree trunk. "Perhaps moving targets were too ambitious for your first try."

I roll up to standing, hope flickering in my chest. "You're right! I should start simpler!" Just like games always start with easy obstacles.

She grabs one of the many pinecones now littering the ground and sets it in a clear spot before backing away. "Now, use your mind powers on that."

My eyes narrow as my gaze locks on. That pinecone becomes all of the pinecones I failed to fling away today. My magic surges inside me, battering against the walls of the place that holds it like an ocean whipped into waves by a storm.

That pinecone is history!

I fling my hands up, pouring all of my will into the thought. Magic surges through me in an electric tingle. It blasts from my hands, hits the ground, and—

A giant punches me in the chest, flinging me backward into a hard body. Krivoth catches me as we go down in another tangle of limbs.

I lie stunned on top of him, the feel of him below me already familiar. Oh, god, how many times is it that I've knocked him over in only one day? Mortification heats my cheeks. I messed up again.

When I scooch over onto my side, I expect a scowl but get a grin as he says, "That was good."

"I knocked us over!"

"You used your magic and proved it's powerful."

"Yeah." Happiness washes over me. "You're right."

"Do it again."

"Knock us over?" I tease.

"If need be." He brushes a lock of hair out of my face. "I don't mind."

His fingertips are calloused from wielding a sword, and the slightly rough skin slides over mine in delicious sensation. These are the hands of a real man, a man of action, and this touch sends tingles racing through me until I break out in goose bumps.

My breath hitches, and I have to swallow so I can say, "I don't mind either."

It's a lie. I more than "don't mind."

I effing love it.