Chapter 3

Three

When Miranda was little and living in the group home, there was an enormous oak tree in the backyard. Every fall Mrs. Clark would give all the kids a rake and they would get the leaves into a massive pile. The bigger kids would take the younger children by their arms and legs and swing them into the pile. They would fall, laughing and screaming, into the damp foliage. The cool crunch engulfed them completely as the leaves fell over their noses and blocked out the sky.

Miranda still remembered the smell of it, crisp and clean. The taste too, as one or two leaves had been sucked into her mouth when she gasped from the exhilaration of the fall. She remembered looking up through the pile, seeing little pricks of blue sky through the gold leaves. It was a happy time. The best.

So, when she experienced that exact memory, she was certain she was dead. She lay on her back, looking up into the bright blue sky with gold and red leaves surrounding her, feeling weightless. She waited for pain, numbness, even the great booming voice of her maker. But she felt none of that. The sweet scent slowly filtered through the dirt and grime caked in her nose and mouth.

She sat up slowly, breaking through the leaves.

The canopy of autumn-glazed trees above her swayed in a gentle, but icy cold breeze. The smell of deep woods—pine and damp—had her gasping, heaving air into her lungs. Filling them up with life.

She pinched her thigh hard enough to bruise and felt pain. She waved her arms and the leaves she had fallen into rustled. In the distance, she heard the babbling of a brook. The sound made her parched mouth tingle with want.

Miranda looked around, unable to believe her own eyes, unable to understand where she was or what she was doing here.

There was no cliff. No dried-up ocean. No blistering sun or dead air.

She was in the center of a lush, beautiful forest. She dug her fingers into the leaves and ripped them up in her hands.

Miranda was not dead. She was not broken and bloody. Her life had not ended with a violent, crushing splat.

She had fallen, but something had caught her.

Something she knew in the depths of her soul did not belong to Earth.

Miranda examined one of the leaves with equal parts awe and confusion. She was no botanist, but she couldn't place ever seeing or hearing of a leaf that tapered off into spirals. The leaves above her were flooded with the circular patterns and dazzled with bright colors. Reds and yellows blended into a sight so glorious it stole her breath.

Her imagination must have been laboring in overdrive to conjure all this up.

She fell, right? She flexed her muscles, ran her hands over her goosebump-covered arms, torso, legs... nothing. She didn't feel any pain. No injuries at all.

So, this was a dream. The last gasp before her existence winked out. Any moment now, she'd see a bright light in a tunnel and know this was the end.

She sat tense, twirling the leaf. Her tattered running shorts were getting soaked through from the damp pile. Her tank top and sports bra did nothing to protect her from the frigid air.

Birds twittered, and Miranda stilled, jerking her gaze to the sky.

Birds. Flying right above her.

The trees rustled in a breeze.

This forest was so pretty. Dark trunks breaking into curling limbs that stretched toward the sky. Bright vibrant colors more dazzling than a fiery sunset coated them like a warm cloak. They rustled in a crisp gentle breeze, leaves breaking free and raining down to land upon rich green moss. It was unlike anything she'd ever seen on Earth.

This couldn't be real.

Miranda's throat worked, swallowing hard as she prepared for the delusion to end, waiting for this fantasy world to crumble. If she were lucky, the apocalyptic nightmare would disintegrate with it.

Or maybe she was having a complete psychotic breakdown. She'd listen to the delightful forest sounds and follow the singing birds back to a padded white room.

She inhaled. Deep wooded bliss filtered through the muck of her sinuses. She was shaking hard enough that she dropped the mystery leaf into her lap.

She couldn't be alive. This wasn't real.

The sound of howling catapulted her into action.

The dogs had followed her. They'd chased her off the cliff. Those damn, horrible beasts that hunted her at every turn. She clawed at her bag, pulling it off her shoulder. She found it miraculous that the wind hadn't ripped it from her in the fall.

Miranda was about to bury herself in the leaf pile when she heard the stomping of feet, and she froze. Her heart skipped and breath caught.

Someone burst into the clearing.

Or rather something. Any sliver of doubt this wasn't an illusion conjured by her shattered mind was destroyed as she examined the inhuman male approaching her.

He was massive. Had at least half a foot on the tallest man she'd ever seen. He was easily seven feet. His shirt was torn open, revealing a chest rippled with muscles. His arms bulged under the tight sleeves of his shirt.

And they were green. His skin was green.

It wasn't a mild green either. Not the kind of green she could pass off as nausea or really bad concealer. He was bright green—new spring growth green. Hand him a jug and he could be the mascot for a limeade commercial.

Miranda was fairly certain By-Pass nuclear bombs didn't turn people green. They were more likely to melt your flesh clean off. Then again, her own skin wasn't melting, and she'd been at the epicenter.

The man was coming right at her, and the horrid dogs were still barking, getting closer. He reached out to grab her, to pull her up, but Miranda knew those monsters, and she was in no state to outrun them. Neither was this mystery guy. He had a distinct limp. He'd get picked off and eaten before you could say salsa verde.

She grabbed him first, by the wrist, wrenching him forward and caught him off balance. His eyes widened in shock, but he didn't fight the plummet into the leaves. With deft, practiced motions, Miranda pulled her bleach citrus spray out of her bag and spritzed a healthy layer over them before yanking the foliage up to cover them.

She hoped this green guy wasn't stupid enough to move or breathe while they were hiding, but she had no time to tell him to shush. The dogs broke through the tree line less than a second after she'd gone still. Their growls and snarls had her fighting the urge to tremble. They were so close. Any rustle of leaves would give away their hiding spot.

The sniffing continued, and Miranda found the courage to open her eyes, hoping by some miracle she could see what was going on through a gap between the leaves.

Instead, she came face-to-face with the mystery man, less than six inches from her.

She skittered her gaze down to the slope of his slightly crooked nose, to the jutting under-bite that made his face look squat and disproportionate, and to the wide span of his lips, which were a shade darker than the rest of his pea soup skin.

Wait, were those fangs?

No. Not fangs. The two sharp white points of his teeth jutted from his lower jaw so that made them tusks, right? They poked into his cheeks, and she resisted the urge to touch them, ensure they were actually there and not part of this radiation-induced delusion.

A low rumble sounded from him. Quiet enough that she was certain she was the only one that could hear it or rather felt it. A deep, buttery vibration that turned her guts to mush and made her want to collapse into the fold of his embrace.

Dang, she was really being stupid now. The truth was, she'd been so starved for human contact it didn't matter where it came from. She would take a literal alien and be glad.

Was that what he was? An alien? She was certain the growing national tension had caused the apocalypse. World War V had been rolling on for ten years. It was a constant looming threat, smothering everyone like a blanket in sweltering summer heat.

She shifted her weight slightly and the leaves felt like prickly ice against her skin. She had to force herself not to shiver. The alien was still watching her. His harsh gaze was the only thing that kept her still.

Wouldn't it be her luck to have a fricking alien come down and abduct her in the final hour? Fly her off in a saucer bound for a laboratory. Get herself a nice vivisection before the radiation could melt the skin off her bones. She wasn't sure which fate would be worse, honestly.

Maybe she should alert the dogs and get herself eaten after all.

"Shh."

The hushing sound jerked her attention back to the man's eyes—emerald with flecks of gold.

Beautiful.

Was she dreaming or dead? Her throat constricted. She had plans, dang it! She wanted to move into an apartment she didn't hate. Get promoted at the bank. Apply to be a foster parent.

Leaves rustled next to her head, and she flinched. There was a dog there. Right freaking there, holy shit, she really was going to get ripped apart.

It backed away, snorting. Its tail smacked a leaf or two and a tiny crack allowed her a good look at the creatures that had haunted her for days.

But it wasn't them.

The dogs from Earth were black and half rotting, with piercing eyes and foaming teeth.

Thesedogs were wolves. Gray. Clean. Healthy. Thick, glossy fur. Not a limp in sight.

Wolves had been wiped out a hundred years ago, hunted to extinction like most of the predatory animals. She'd only seen videos of them in ancient documentaries.

Miranda's eyes burned. What an amazing delusion!

"Shh," the alien shushed her again. This time, she felt a light brush on her hand. The stroke of his warm skin as he tapped her palm with firm fingers. The sensation of being touched after thinking she would never see another living being again rocked her right out of her already fraying senses.

She concentrated on his face, almost too scared to blink. She'd open her eyes to find herself alone and terrified all over again. Abandoned in the wasteland. Left to walk until…

She didn't want to die.

He tapped her harder, and she became painfully aware of how close the snarling and sniffing had become. As if they were already found.

She had lied. She wanted to be abducted, not ripped apart by wolves. Miranda gripped the alien's hand, clutching three of his thick fingers and prayed to any deity that might be around to hear her.

A distant howl sounded, low and sweet.

The clacking of the wolves running into the forest relaxed her chest. Both she and the green man froze in their places, listening for any sign that the animals might come back.

Then he burst up so quick that Miranda yelped, shocked at his intense speed. She'd hardly caught her breath when he grabbed her by the arm and yanked her out of the leaf pile. Debris rained down around them like they were in a tornado. The scent of decaying leaves flooded her nostrils, crisp and stark against her blistered sinuses.

Was this real? Could she dare to hope?

The tight grip on both her wrists caught her attention. The man dragged her forward, stilling her with the intensity of his gaze. She couldn't break away, even as he pulled a length of rope from his dark leather pack.

"Whatever plot you were scheming has failed, woman."

Her heart threatened to burst from her chest. He spoke. He could speak. She wanted to force him to say something else.

"Who are you?" He drew closer until she could feel the heat from his chest. He was so wonderfully warm. "What magic rendered you to these woods?"

"I... I don't..." Miranda's gaze skittered upward to the sky. "I fell off a cliff."

"What?" The alien rasped.

"I fell . . . fell and . . ."

She took a deep breath. This was a dream. Just a dream. She looked down at her hands, still held tight in the stranger's grip. His green skin was so stark against her peachy complexion. "I don't want to be tied up."

A fierce scowl crossed the man's features, deepening his brow, darkening his eyes. Miranda's lips parted half from fear and half from some other stupid, irrational emotion that made her gut quiver and her blood tingle with heat.

"You are in no position to make demands of me, woman," he snapped before adjusting his grip so he could uncoil the rope.

She took advantage of his loosened hold and squiggled her hand free. He jerked to grab her again, but froze when, instead of bolting, Miranda reached up to touch his creased forehead.

His skin was cool and damp, like he'd just gotten out of a swimming pool. She soothed the lines away, stroking until he finally relaxed.

Dang, his eyes were so pretty. Green and gold with long lashes. She'd really worked up someone right out of her own fantasies, well, except for maybe the green part. And why freaking not? Might as well spend her last few minutes in bliss.

The male sucked in a harsh breath, distracting her from her lusty thoughts. And then he dipped down. Electric spikes zapped her spine as he buried his nose in her neck and inhaled deeply.

Oh goddamn! Was this shifting into a wet dream? She wouldn't argue if it was.

He exhaled harsh against her skin. Snorting. Coughing. He jerked away and rubbed at his face, dropping her hands.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her stomach knotting at the knowledge that she probably smelled like absolute shit. Bleach and sweat and fallout grime. "I'm sorry. I haven't had a bath in way too long. I promise, I don't smell this bad on a usual day. I've got like, vanilla body lotion and this really nice, sweet pea scented hand cream." She broke off, tongue too parched to babble on. Not that her hygiene routine was of any flipping interest to this alien.

But after looking at his wide, attentive eyes, she realized maybe it was? He was watching her so intently it made her skin prickle. Then he raked a massive hand over his face and shuddered out a harsh breath.

He bridged the gap between them again, chest so close to hers she could feel the heat of his skin. The warm pine scent of him drew her in, made her squirm.

He gripped her wrists.

"You are now my... conquest." His voice was so low it tingled up her spine and warmed her gut.

"What?" She didn't care what he was saying as long as he kept at it.

"No other humans would dare venture into the depths of these woods, so do not hold folly that you may be rescued." His vibrant emerald eyes focused on her hands.

"But aren't you rescuing me?"

He froze.

"Don't tie me up," she said firmly. This was a dream, so she could control it.

He held the rope over her hands, hesitant.

She waited for him to obey.And he did.

He let her go and swung a heavy leather pack down to his feet, putting the rope away within its depths. The thing was soaking wet, just like the rest of him.

"If you try to flee. I will catch you and bind you."

"Okay. So, I'll only run when I'm ready to be tied up," she mumbled before she could think better of it.

The male's eyes snapped to her again, flickered over her body for half a second. He shuddered, raked a hand through his hair, and muttered something she couldn't make out before replying at a normal volume. "You... will tell me how you got here. Now."

Her throat closed. "I told you. I fell off a cliff."

"There are no cliffs here, woman."

"Yeah, that's pretty crazy, huh? This whole place is crazy." Miranda looked around again. "It's amazing how much the brain can conjure up just from watching kids' movies on repeat."

"You have children?"

"Uh, no. I mean, none of my own." Her eyes prickled but she was too dehydrated to produce any tears. Her heart pounded, and her ears rang.

Oh, god! She'd been trying not to think about it, and suddenly, all the little faces she'd taken care of at the daycare were reeling in front of her mind's eye and she couldn't escape.

She should have been there with them when the bomb dropped.

She belonged with them, not here.

She should have died with them.

A gust of wind ripped across her back, flinging her hair in front of her face. She shuddered in the icy chill. Dang, this place was cold. Nothing on Earth had ever been this cold.

"I don't . . . belong here," she whispered.

"You belong with me."

The crisp retort was so outrageous she huffed, opening her eyes to find the alien's green coloring had lightened up. His eyes had gone wide. Apparently, his declaration had shocked him, too.

But she had no desire to fight him on it.

She had lost her mind, and she was too tired, too defeated, to care. Despite that, she found the wherewithal to ask, "Are you going to hurt me?"

His fierce eyes leveled her again, assessing. "That is the last thing I wish, human."

So, he knew what species she was. She couldn't guess his. He clearly wasn't human, though he had the general shape of one. Two arms and two legs. Symmetrical face. Hair that was cut jaggedly and fell in wet clumps across his brow.

She reached up and brushed those strands away. The male stilled, blinking, and when she removed her hand, he recovered.

"Should you have need or pain, you will state it, and I will provide remedy."

His words were odd, but the intention was clear enough. "I'm thirsty."

His brows rose in surprise, as if he hadn't thought she would actually ask him for something.

He reached into his pack, produced a soft leather pouch, and uncorked it.

What was this, the Middle Ages?

He handed it to her, and she struggled to get it into a suitable position. She almost dropped it, startling the man into gripping it. His hand covered the entire lower half of the bag while both her hands could only manage the top quarter.

"What are you?" she finally asked. Her gaze was stuck on his huge hands.

He jumped. His green eyes grew wide and dark brows rose. The expression of pure, unabashed confusion was adorable. "What?"

"What are you? Or are you a human in some kind of cosplay?"

"Cos . . .? I am an orc."

That's when Miranda knew for certain she was in a delusion of her own making. "An orc? Like from a fantasy novel?" His brows pinched together, and she wanted to smooth it again, but her hands were full. "You don't look like an orc. Aren't orcs supposed to be ugly? Like rotting flesh and crooked teeth?"

Once again, he was flummoxed. His jaw was even a little slacked, which let her see his lower tusks better. His under-bite was extreme, hiding his upper lip beneath it.

Then anger contorted his features. His jaw lowered more, making his face less squat.

He looked good. Scary, but good. She'd have to figure out how to irritate him more often.

"You humans may have dwindled our numbers, but I still find it unbelievable that you have never seen an orc before today. Regardless, you will come with me. And if you try to flee, I will hunt you. Do you understand?"

"Pretty much." She was in no condition to run away from him, even if she wanted to. Finally, she lifted the pouch to her lips.

She expected straight sand to pour into her mouth. She had no faith in her own imagination anymore.

But she got water.

Clean, crisp, cool water. It drenched her tongue, flooded her throat. Her gulps turned frantic as she sucked down as much as she could.

"Stop. Woman, stop!"

The orc tore the bag away from her, and she let out a pitiful whimper. The man's face contorted again with an emotion she couldn't read.

"Woman, you will make yourself ill."

"Miranda."

"What?"

"My name is Miranda. You should know that as a figment of my imagination."

He paused, looking her over. "I am not an imagining, woman."

"Sure. Can I have the water back?" She would have tackled him for it if she wasn't so worried about him dropping the precious thing and spilling it. Her mouth had just started to taste like something other than mud when he'd ripped it away.

"Slowly," he demanded, pressing the nozzle to her lips again. He gripped the bag, stopping her when she tried to pull it closer. Drink faster. She could only manage a few sips at a time.

He was cruel. She couldn't get sick in her own dream. Or she supposed she could, but it wouldn't matter. She was about to throw a fit over it when he took it away and reached back into his bag, producing something that looked like bread.

The water was forgotten as he held the delectable roll in front of her face. "I will give you this, if you follow willingly and do not try to flee."

"I would literally follow you right off another cliff for that."

He continued to look puzzled, but handed over the bread. Snatching it, she shoved half of it into her mouth.

"Eat slowly," he demanded. "Or I will reach in and take it back."

Was he going to reach down her throat and into her stomach? She decided not to test the physics of this dream and obeyed the order. The bread was too hard to eat quickly, anyway.

He let her finish two rolls and have another long drink before closing up shop. Her abdomen felt like it was bulging against her shirt, but her brain was demanding she tackle him to the ground and steal every crumb of food and drop of liquid he had.

She distracted herself from attacking him as he produced a thick cloak out of his pack. It was so bulky she wasn't sure how he'd managed to fit it in there.

With both hands he held it up, his face questioning. Miranda blinked. "Is that for me?"

"If you are willing."

"Heck yeah, I'm willing." Her clothes were in tatters and this delusion was cold. Half the leaves were off the trees and the sun was low in the sky. She stepped forward, taking advantage of his shock, and swiped it out of his grip, only to fumble with the knot that closed the top.

"Would you like help?" He was laughing at her, she could tell.

"Yeah."

He made such quick work of the knot, which forced her to blush. Apparently, she'd lost her finger dexterity along with her mind.

The stranger stepped forward, slinging the cloak around her shoulders. He was so close she could feel heat radiating off him. He smelled of wood smoke and... blood.

"Are you hurt?" she asked as he secured the tie at her neck.

"No."

The abrupt way he denied it betrayed him, but if he wanted to play the tough guy, she didn't care.

Using what little stamina she had left, Miranda convinced herself that everything would be fine, that her mind wasn't stuck in a delusion while her body was bleeding out at the bottom of a cliff. Maybe even that Earth hadn't been destroyed and she would wake up in her bed at any moment.

"You belong to me, woman," the orc said, shouldering his pack. "Now come, it is time to leave."