by Layla Harper
Holding the hood taut against my head to hide my face, I lean farther to the right, squinting beyond the wall that is Rogar’s body. With a leaner build than the alien standing directly before me, arms crossed against his chest, these beings appear to be equal in height to Rogar and just as menacing, their crimson orbs and sharp white teeth gleefully exposed.
Rogar’s body stiffens and his back seems to expand before my eyes. He takes two steps forward, the wolf-beast keeping pace at his master’s side.
The red-eyed leader signals to the other riders in his group. They halt their mounts but remain on alert about ten feet away.
Holy hell. The boar’s tusks are monstrous.
I lower my head. Despite the cloak’s warmth, I’m powerless to curb the tremors rolling through my body. I’m not sure which fate is worse, being mauled by Rogar’s beast, or gutted by one of these things.
Red-eye remains seated atop his grunting boar. He casts Rogar a scornful look, then speaks in a tight, guttural tone in a language the mark’s magic doesn’t interpret. I don’t understand a single word spoken.
But Rogar sure does. Unsheathing his sword, he growls and spits out an answer in return. And although he holds the massive sword in a loose grip, his stance is anything but. The words he barks are short and clipped and hostile.
Goose bumps flick up my arms.
Nostrils flaring, Red-eye spits on the ground. He directs his mount a few steps closer to Rogar, crimson gaze shifting to me. He angles his head in my direction and sniffs.
Holy smokes. Can he tell what I am from there?
I stop breathing.
A strange sound fills the air. Not a growl. No, something worse. Something that makes my heart race for the hills. And whatever it is, it’s coming from Rogar.
Red-eye and every member of his gang bare their teeth in unison. Really big shark teeth.
I can’t see Rogar’s face, but I’m thinking he might be doing the same. The fang-bearing contest continues for another minute before Red-eye bellows out another command. He kicks his mount into a run, throwing Rogar one last glare before directing the boar in the opposite direction through the woods. The other five riders fall in line behind him.
I gulp a lungful of air. My knees are knocking loud enough to make noise.
Or maybe it’s the chattering of my teeth?
“What…?” My gaze darts from the gray wolf-beast to the fading visage of the giant boars and their black-skinned riders, then back to Rogar. For a minute, my thoughts clog, unable to make sense of this place—this crazy world with its fantastical beasts and larger-than-life people. It’s so easy to let my mind stray to illogical conclusions like the belief that I’m somewhere on campus, unconscious, dreaming the dream of all dreams. But the smells, sights, and sounds surrounding me tell a different story—one that is too real to ignore. One that grounds me to the spot and compels me to see beyond my human constructs.
I rub my eyes. “Who or what were those…” Things? People? I can’t believe I have to stop myself and ask.
“Drows.” Rogar sheathes his weapon and turns around to face me. His brows are drawn and his nostrils flare. He’d be handsome if he weren’t so scary.
“Come.” His steps are quick. “They will join the hunt. More will follow.”
I hurry to keep pace with his long strides. “More drows?”
“What will follow will be worse. Much worse.”
I balk. “There are creatures worse than those things and the goblins?” Worse than him?
Rogar shoots me a look that easily translates to “duh.”
Holy shit.
“Humans have long been absent from this plane.” He pats the wolf-beast and murmurs something soothing to the animal. “There hasn’t been a sighting in Alfhemir for hundreds of years before my birth, or that of our visitors.”
“No people anywhere?” The creature turns its enormous head in my direction, and I swear there’s a calculating glint to its gold eyes. “How do you know? Maybe they’re hiding somewhere.” I sure would.
“Your scent is”—his jaw clenches—“unique.”
“Well, I guess that explains the pee.” I hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
Rogar’s tan skin flushes pink. It’s kind of endearing.
What the hell am I thinking?
Endearing? Really? I’ve lost my mind.
He shrugs. “It was a gamble. My musk cannot mask your true scent. Had the drow gotten any closer, you would have been discovered. Thank the spirits, for they have blessed you this day.” The expression on his face freezes the blood flowing to my heart. “Your good fortune will not last. It is only a matter of time before the drows realize what you are, and when they do, they will return, and they will not be alone. As long as that slave mark remains carved into your flesh, you are prey to the magic that will force them to hunt.”
“But for how long?” If the portal set off some kind of magical alarm, then there has to be a reset button. “The magic has to wane eventually, right?”
His face hardens.
I really didn’t want to know the answer, but I’ve never been one to run the truth. “Tell me.”
“The magic will lure until the last of your blood spills and not a moment sooner.”
Shit. “That’s what I was afraid you’d say.”
Chapter Seven
Rogar
In spite of the precariousness of her situation, Kyra does not cower. She follows my movements, her head held high, her blue eyes wary, and her strangely clad feet planted to the ground. “I’m not going anywhere with you until I get some answers.”
I stop and slowly angle my body until we are face-to-face yet several feet apart. “What would you have me tell you?”
“The truth. You can start by proving to me that you’re not part of this hunt.”
“I cannot. There are no guarantees in Alfhemir. It is a dangerous world, one you will not survive alone.”
“Yet you expect me to follow you blindly into this”—she twirls around with a hand in the air—“forest? Without any indication of where we’re going or why?”
I catch the hint of her scent mingled with mine. Lust stirs my blood.
“Well? Is that what you expect? That I’ll trust you simply because you saved my life? I may be at a disadvantage in your world, but I’m not stupid. Unless…” She crosses her arms tight against her chest. “Unless that was your plan all along. Fool me into submission. It’s not going to work, you know.”
Her words sting my honor. I would never deceive an innocent into thinking me an ally to then turn them over to the wolves. That she would lump me with the dregs of Alfhemir wounds my pride. But she does not know me and probably never will. The thought hurts more than it should.
I shove the errant notion aside. “You have a better chance of surviving the hunt if you remain by my side, but you are wise to doubt my words. Trust no one, Kyra. In Alfhemir, words are like blades, sharp and dipped in poison. You would do well to heed my warning.”
She considers my remark, twisting her mouth to the side. “I saw no evidence of the ring when I regained consciousness. I didn’t see the people who kidnapped and marked me either.” She rolls her lips into her mouth, fear and uncertainty flaring in her eyes.
I nearly growl into my fist, the bond anchoring deeper into my chest.
“I don’t trust easily. I’ve been on my own for a long time. People don’t do things out of the goodness of their hearts. There’s usually some self-serving motive behind every action. So tell me, what’s yours? Why would you help me when doing so clearly puts you in contempt of your laws?”
I want to ask who hurt her. Who tore through her precious innocence? Who failed to protect her from life’s harsh realities? But we are easy targets standing out here in the open.
“We do not have time for this.”
She juts her chin at my chest. “You’re a walking armory. Give me a weapon.”
I smile. The female has spunk.
“C
hoose,” I tell her, spreading my arms wide.
Tentatively, Kyra steps forward.
The prospect of having her small hands travel over my body in search of a weapon quickens my pulse. Before she can touch me, I come to my senses and lower my arms. I’m a bloody fool to allow the mate bond to influence my actions. A bloody fool. I retrieve the dagger from my thigh sheath, my movements sharp and brusque.
Kyra tenses, her focus on the weapon in my hand.
Good. Her mistrust will keep us both alive. I flip the blade so the hilt is accessible and ignore the guilt riding my conscience. “This is not a toy.”
She takes the dagger with her left and seems to weigh it in her palm. “Okay. Now tell me where we’re going and why.”
“There is a cave several miles from here where I am to rendezvous with Gauron, my second-in-command.”
“The guy with the wild red hair and pretty eyes?”
My lips quirk. My “pretty-eyed” friend would vomit a string of obscenities over such a characterization. “Yes, he is to bring supplies for our journey and a disguise for you.” I raise a hand and stop her before she asks the question I am about to answer. “Our first stop is Lithyr, a free city two days’ journey from the caves. There I will barter for a potion to conceal your scent. Afterward, we journey east, to the high queen’s castle.”
“She’s the only one who can remove this mark?”
I nod. “And the only one authorized to open a portal to your world.”
“And what do you get out of helping me?”
I cannot confess to the bond, but the truth is the same regardless. “My honor dictates. Were it you or another, the result would be no different. Now, will you come with me? Or shall we wait to be overcome by another band of mercenaries hastening to join the hunt?”
Her grip tightens around the hilt. “Fine.”
I gesture to Gray.
“Oh no. You’re not thinking…”
“I did not take you for a coward.”
Kyra opens her mouth to speak, but I beat her to it. “I entertained your questions and your assault of my honor. Now listen and listen well, female. I am a warrior. I have been killing and slaughtering for centuries, long before your ancestors were born. I know war like I know every line and callus etched into the palm of my hand. Do you wish to live?”
She stares at me, wide-eyed and terrified, but when she speaks, there is no wobble in her voice. “Yes.”
“Then you do as I command. If I say jump, you jump. If I say mount my warg, you mount my warg. No questions asked. No hesitation. You shut your mouth and you do as you are told. In this world, it will be the difference between dying and living another day. No one in this realm is crazy enough to jeopardize their lives to save a human. Do you understand?”
Her knuckles go white around the hilt, and I realize it is not fear driving her response but anger. It may just be my heart she’ll stab before this day is through.
Can I blame her?
“Fine.” She lowers the dagger, the blade facing away from her side. “As long you promise never to lie to me.” She extends her right hand.
“I do not lie.”
She stretches her arm farther. “Then shake on it.”
I search her face for a clue. “Shake on what?”
“Oh for crying out loud.” She clasps my right palm firmly against hers and vigorously shakes my hand in an up-and-down motion. “I promise to do as you command. You promise not to lie. So I’ll do what you command, but for the record, know that once the danger has passed, I’ll badger you mercilessly if you continue to act like a complete dick. Are we clear about that, Mr. High and Mighty?”
I hide my smile with a scowl and release her hand. “Drop the weapon before you hurt yourself.”
Without a word of protest, the dagger thuds to the ground. My hands are at Kyra’s waist, lifting her to Gray before she can change her mind. She does not squeal or complain; she simply sits atop my warg, arms shaking at her sides, hands fisted in her lap, head forward and her back stiff.
I rub the spot where the bond pulses with fear. Sighing, I sheathe the dagger and adjust the cloak around her shoulders. She avoids making eye contact. Sadly, I cannot say the same for Gray. He glares at me, murder flaring in his golden eyes, and it is clear he is not happy with the load on his back. Or with me.
Ah, but with a bit of raw meat, I can turn his mood around.
Kyra?
I have no idea what I must do to give joy to a human female.
I shake my head and dislodge all thoughts of a smiling Kyra from my brain. I cannot let the bond cloud my judgment. There is a reason why this magic is so dangerous.
I get astride Gray, caging Kyra with my thighs. Securing my arms around her torso, I press her back to my chest.
Gray kicks into a run, jostling our bodies as the wind buffets my skin. Kyra’s scent infiltrates the stench of my musk, curling around me like a ribbon of steel. Her closeness sets my body on fire.
This cursed bond will be the death of me yet.
We ride in silence, her stiff and angry, me fighting for control of the lust building in my veins. Gray’s claws thud against the forest floor. The woods are abnormally quiet, but I smell no threats in the air.
Several minutes into the jaunt, Kyra asks, “Can the fae refuse the hunt?”
“Some. For others, the magic touches the power inside them and creates a euphoria that is difficult to resist.”
She glances over her shoulder. “You’re not susceptible?”
I hesitate. “Like your race, my people are not bound by magic.” It was the one good thing that came from the Reckoning—the day the high queen stripped all magic, including the mate bond, from every living orc. But now, with the bond alive in my soul, I grow leery. “I do not feel the hunt’s call,” I answer truthfully.
“Hmm.” Kyra relaxes against my chest. “You just lied.”
I steer Gray to the cave’s entrance and cue him to stop. “I do not lie.”
Kyra swings her leg over Gray’s back and jumps off the warg before I can aid her. She stumbles but catches her balance.
Dismounting, I send Gray a mental image to hunt. The warg runs off into the woods. I face Kyra. “Explain yourself.”
“You’re an elf. You’re fae. I may not know anything about where I am, but I’m 99 percent sure this is Faerie and you’re a freaking elf. That means magic. So you clearly lied.”
“I am no elf.”
She cocks her head and squints with one eye. “Oh really?”
Her defiance is adorable. I pinch the bridge of my nose. By the spirits, can I not go one moment without gushing over this damn female?
Pointing to my head, she adds, “Pointy ears. Long hair.” Her gaze travels over my chest. “What more proof do you need?”
I fist my hands on my hips and shift my legs to hide the effect her ‘inspection” triggers.
“Fine. If you’re not an elf, then what?” She shrugs. “You’re certainly no drow or goblin, that’s for sure.”
Ancestors help me. “I am a bloody orc.”
“Sure.” She laughs, the sound stroking my hypersensitive flesh like a lover’s kiss. “That’s a good one. You’re an orc. Oookay. Next you’ll tell me I’m a pixie.”
“And you have met how many orcs on Earth?”
Her lips curl into a lovely smirk. “Believe it or not, on Earth we have literature documenting some aspects of your world. Go figure. I thought it was fiction, but now that I’m here, I’m not so sure. Ever hear of The Lord of the Rings or Warcraft?” Her eyes narrow in triumph like she has clued me in to the mysteries of the universe. “So, where’s the green skin? The tusks? The massive hands? Huh?”
I shift into my warrior form and growl, giving the female my biggest, widest smile, fangs fully extended, and my big hands in plain sight.
With a choked shriek, Kyra leaps back, her fear palpable. “Holy shit. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh. My. God.” Dropping her hand from her face, she stares, those piercing
blue orbs taking in every inch of my warrior form. “Okay, so tusks are mammoth fangs, and…”
She should be running from me. Instead, she draws closer. Unafraid. “Satisfied?” I growl.
“I… I guess I owe you an apology.” Her perusal of my body continues, the track searing across my skin like liquid fire. “Wow. An orc. So”—her chin tips up, her curious eyes seeking mine—“the green skin is a myth, then?”
I am not sure how to answer Kyra’s question without lying or revealing a truth I am not ready to reveal. So I say nothing and shift back into my normal form. “Your literature is meaningless here.” My voice is gruff. “Get in the cave before you are discovered.”
Kyra’s gaze lingers on my face. I see disappointment and something else—something I do not wish to decipher. I allow the vicious rumble in my chest to deepen.
Quietly, she spins on a heel and heads for the cave.
I am a complete ass.
Scrubbing a hand across my jaw, I force my feet to move and accompany the female inside.
Chapter Eight
Kyra
I’m in a cave that juts out of a strange red mountain with a seven-foot-tall scowling orc guarding the entrance.
And… I’m hyperventilating.
Quietly.
All by my lonesome at the back of the cavern.
Why I’m having this reaction now is beyond me. Maybe it’s shock. Or adrenaline. I mean, I know I’m not dreaming. My entire body throbs in agreement. My butt from falling through the portal. My hamstrings from escaping the goblin attack. My thighs, glutes, and lower back from bouncing atop a gigantic wolf racing through the forest.
My breath clouds into puffs of white smoke and disappears before my face. Lowering myself to the ground, I rest my head against the stone wall, close my eyes, and wrap the edges of Rogar’s cloak tightly around my shivering body.