CHAPTER THIRTEEN（Untitled）Naomi

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Naomi

Oh. Oh.

Words are supposed to be my thing, but there are no words.

Firelight dances across the bulges and dips of Wranth’s muscles, making his chest a fascinating display of light and shadow. So many muscles! I know he’s strong because of the way he keeps picking me up, but his shoulders are unbelievably wide.

I swallow and bite my lip as my eyes drift lower. Is that an eight pack? Is an eight pack even anatomically possible? I’ve read it in books, but this is the first time I’ve actually seen one.

“Will this do?” The hand holding the shirt stretches even closer.

“Yep.” My voice is a breathless squeak as I snatch it out of his hand. “That’s perfect.” I’m not talking about the shirt.

He crouches, pulls another shirt out of a pack and starts to wipe it down with the cleaning cloth. The play of muscles in his forearms…

Get a grip, girl!

I spin away from the fire, and the forest in front of me is an inky black as I step around the tent. I shrug out of the cardigan and hang it from the tent corner. My fingers curl under the hem of my skirt, and I straighten, pulling the dress off over my head. Wranth’s shirt settles around me, huge and comfy and still warm from his body. Instinctively, I lift the neck to my nose and take a deep sniff. It smells of pine and leather and man. Yum. Then I realize what I’m doing and drop the shirt back into place.

After cuffing the sleeves so they no longer cover my hands, I lean forward until my head hangs upside down. I gather my hair together and wrap my satin dress around my head and the bulk of my curls. When I straighten up, I’m sporting a turban that’s open at the top, the ends of my curls poking out of it in an improvised pineapple that’ll protect my hair while I sleep.

When I walk back to the fire, Wranth looks at me, his dark eyes so intent I feel his gaze like a caress. Which is kind of ironic, because his shirt hides more of my body than my spaghetti-strap dress ever did.

He’s clothed again, too, and a spurt of disappointment goes through me. My fingers curl into the soft weave of the cardigan, wanting to touch him instead. Flustered, I turn toward the tent. The only tent. Just one.

That doesn’t help with the fluster, not one tiny bit.

“You should rest,” his deep voice says. “I’ll keep watch.”

It’s my turn to say, “No.” I’m an adult. I’ve shared tents before. It doesn’t have to mean anything. I crawl into the tent and sit on the furs, the ground surprisingly soft underneath me. Then I look at him. “You aren’t sleeping outside on the ground.”

He remains sitting completely still outside the tent.

“Well?” I give the bed beside me a pat, the luxurious fur soft against my palm. My fingers dig in. God, what would it feel like to roll around in these naked?

“I will stand guard.”

“And be too tired to do anything tomorrow? How’s that going to help?”

“I am an orc warrior, one of the finest.” His face goes hard. “It will take far more than one missed night of sleep to impede me.”

He starts to turn away, and I reach toward him. “Wait.” When he faces me again, I say. “Will you stay for me? It’s my first night in a new world, and…” I let my voice trail off. I’m not actually afraid—not with Wranth around—but it’s true I don’t feel like being alone.

Wranth’s expression finally softens, and he unbuckles his sword. “For you, I will stay.”

The leather tent seemed big with only me in it, but Wranth’s huge body fills the space. Heat pours from him, along with the pleasing scent of his skin laced with pine and leather.

We settle onto the furs on our sides, facing each other, and I drape my cardigan over me. Just enough firelight makes it into the tent for me to catch light reflecting off Wranth’s open eyes.

A yawn cracks my jaw. It’s been such a long day, and I didn’t really sleep the night before. I murmur, “Night.”

“Sleep well, my bride.” Wranth’s deep voice follows me into my dreams.

Warmth. I wake to the most delicious feeling of warmth. A weight drapes my waist, just heavy enough to be comforting.

I blink open sleepy eyes. The first splash of sunlight lightens the leather of the tent to a golden glow. Sometime in the night, I rolled over and scootched all the way across the middle of the space to snuggle up to Wranth. I eye the distance to the tent wall. Yep. I’m the one that moved.

His huge body spoons mine, all heat and muscle. It’s his arm wrapping around my waist, feeling so right.

I close my eyes, trying hard not to move, not to spoil this one perfect moment. How long has it been since someone held me? Riding the unicorn with Wranth was nice, but this? This is even better. My body wiggles back into his, seeking more connection.

As uncertain as I am about all this insta-married stuff, I’m one-hundred percent on other things. Like how much I love how Wranth felt pressed against me while we rode yesterday, or how he lifts me and moves me around so effortlessly. And then there’s the way Wranth looks at me as if he wants to eat me up.

Is it any wonder I’m interested?

He wakes, his hand flexing on my stomach as every muscle in his body goes rigid with awareness.

My breath catches, my skin burning everywhere we touch. Will he—

“I got up at this despicable hour to hunt for you,” Shadow says from right outside the tent. “The least you can do is come eat it.”

Wranth jerks upright, a growl rumbling through his chest as he pulls on his boots.

“We’re coming,” I call out, pushing up to sitting. It’s immediately chilly without Wranth’s warmth, and I shrug into the cardigan as he leaves the tent, letting in a blast of cool air and brightness.

I follow him out into a light-kissed world, with the sun just clearing the trees and sending angled beams of sunlight across the meadow. The flowers blaze with color wherever the light touches, and the tall grass flashes silver as it ripples in the wind.

In the forest behind me, birds warble happily as they dart through the trees in flashes of golden wings. Higher cheeps come from the meadow, the birds there small and brown and adorable in how they hop and peck at the ground.

The air’s so clean it smells sweet, and I take a deep breath as I throw my arms overhead in a stretch. When I unwrap my hair, my curls settle around my face, well protected by my improvised sleep cap. After grabbing the cleaning cloth and a waterskin, I duck into the trees to use the bathroom.

When I return to the campsite, Zephyr grazes nearby, Shadow sits close to the fire, one rear leg held up at a diagonal while he lazily licks at his knee.

Wranth’s got the fire going and hands me a pewter cup of steaming liquid. The fresh smell of mint teases my nose a split second before the flavor rolls across my tongue.

I hum happily and grin at him. “Thanks.”

The corner of his mouth lifts in his little half smile, and right then and there I determine that’s my favorite smile of all the smiles that have ever been smiled.

“Can I help?” I ask as he starts to prepare breakfast.

“Have you ever cooked over a fire?”

“Do s’mores count? Because I’m really good at s’mores.” They were always the highlight of my camping trips with Dad when I was little, and they helped make me popular in high school whenever we partied in the woods.

“S’mores?” Wranth says carefully.

“It’s a dessert and about the only thing I’m really good at making at a campfire.” I wave away his confused frown. Instead of trying to explain marshmallows—because I don’t really understand how they’re made—I go back to his original question. “No, no real cooking experience using a fire. We usually heated cans of beans or pre-prepared food packs that you just added water to.”

“I have something like this.” His expression clears, and he pulls out a small pot and a leather pouch. After adding water, he’s got oatmeal—or something like it—bubbling away on the fire.

Breakfast is strips of cooked meat and the “orc porridge,” which is oats with bits of dried fruit, nuts, and meat mixed in. It’s not sweet, like I always eat oatmeal at home, but still really tasty.

I finish things off with a last sip of mint tea, staring into the bottom of the empty cup and wishing for coffee. Mmm, a caramel latte would be perfect right now, but I’m pretty sure there aren’t any Starbucks in Faerie. Hell, there’s no Starbucks in Ferndale Falls either. When Hannah approached the company about setting one up, they said the “demographics” weren’t optimal. It was a nice way of saying our town is too small and only getting smaller, and it hurt because they were right.

“Thanks for breakfast,” I say to Wranth, then lean over and scratch around Shadow’s ear. “And thank you for hunting for us again.”

His eyes close to green slits, and his rumbling purr fills the air.

Wranth stands and walks over to Zephyr, giving the unicorn a pat on the neck. “And how about you, old friend? Have you eaten your fill?”

She bats him with her horn in a soft tap that’s full of affection, in contrast to her short, “Yes.”

“Good, because I’d like to try something before we head out.” He saddles her and turns to me, holding out a hand. “Naomi?”

I go to him.

“Is your magic back yet?” he asks.

“Let me check.” I grip my crystal, close my eyes, and think “home.” Pain flares through my body, and I stop pushing immediately. When I meet his eyes again, I shake my head. “No. It still feels burnt out.”

“That’s all right. I want to check something about our tether.” He lifts me onto the saddle, his hands staying on me until my knees grip and I find my seat.

“Zephyr, will you walk to the far side of the meadow?”

The unicorn shakes her head, making her silky silver mane flow through the air. “What’s going to happen to me when we reach twenty feet?”

“That’s what I want to find out,” Wranth says.

“Oh!” I snap my fingers. “You think I might bring Zephyr with me?”

“No idea. But we need to know.”

“Because we slam into each other.” I narrow my eyes and point at him. “And you’re going to take the hit! It’s one thing for me to slam into you. It’s a whole other thing for an entire unicorn to hit you!”

“I’m an orc warrior. I’m strong.” His shoulders go back, flaring wide. “Of the two of us, I’m best able to withstand the blow. Besides which, we need to know what will happen, and it’s much better to find out in a controlled fashion than in the middle of an enemy attack.”

My mouth opens, a million protests racing through my mind, but… “You’re right.” I drop my hand. “I freaking hate it, but you’re right. We do need to know what will happen, and this will be safer.”

He grunts, and I can tell it’s a pleased grunt.

Zephyr starts across the meadow, and as soon as we’re about ten feet away, I lean forward and whisper, “Go extra slow, okay? That way, the momentum will be less.”

“I will.” True to her word, her steps shorten, and we creep forward at a slow walk.

Still, dread seizes my chest. No matter how strong Wranth is, how is anyone supposed to walk away from having a freaking unicorn dropped on them?

“You’re almost there,” Wranth calls out.

And I feel it. I feel the tug in the center of my chest.

The world whirls, and I hit something solid. When it snaps into place again, I’m safe in Wranth’s arms.

“It’s only us,” he says, his dark eyes staring into mine. “We’re the only two affected.”

“Only us,” I repeat, my hand pressing to the strong beat of his heart, the heart that holds the other half of our bond.

It’s not a bond I asked for.

But what if it’s exactly what I need?