Page 9

Her eyes blaze with fury. “You can’t just—” She tries to slap me, or maybe push me away, but her palm smacks uselessly against my chest. My hide is too hard to feel much of it.

The force of her motion causes her ankle to twist again, and she cries out.

In reflex, I wrap an arm around her waist to keep her from falling.

A jolting sensation shoots through me as her body comes into contact with mine.

Even through the threadbare fabric of her clothes, I can sense her warmth, her frantic heartbeat.

She’s so slight, quivering. Her breath hitches, and for a heartbeat, we’re locked in a strange tableau of tension and closeness.

Then she tries to shove me again, snarling in frustration, and I decide enough is enough.

My tail flicks, coiling around her waist while I shift her weight into my arms. Elyria yells, pounding a fist against my shoulder, but I can feel her panic rising.

If I let her continue, she’ll only aggravate her injuries.

I have to subdue her—for both our sakes.

“Stop,” I hiss, tightening my hold in a way that pins her arms. “You’ll hurt yourself further.”

She thrashes, a ragged sob escaping her. “Is that supposed to comfort me? You’re kidnapping me— a gargoyle?—”

“You prefer I leave you to the dark elves?” I snap, my irritation flaring. The memory of that guard nearly killing her surges back. “You wouldn’t last a day.”

Her retort is lost in a muffled cry as I pull her closer to my chest. Adrenaline courses through me.

I’ve never handled a human like this, not with the intent to keep them alive.

It’s disconcerting, to say the least. My wings flare, feathers…

no, not feathers—my leathery membranes rustle with tension.

“If you keep fighting, I might drop you,” I growl.

She sucks in a breath, glaring up at me. “Where are you taking me?” Her voice trembles with exhaustion and fear.

“A place where they won’t find you.” And that’s all I say, because I can’t name my intentions beyond that.

I don’t know precisely where. I only know there’s an ancient ruin deeper in the forest, half-forgotten.

It was once a gargoyle outpost, long before our forced stone sleep.

I recall fragments of it from old memories that surface in my dreams. In that deserted place, I can hide her from the Alpha’s eyes, from the dark elves.

And from my own kind, who’d demand I kill her or brand me a traitor.

A swirl of confusion roils in my gut. Is that what I’m becoming? A traitor? The question stings, but I block it out. First, I need to get her out of sight.

I bend my knees, holding her tight, then launch skyward.

A strangled scream tears from her throat as we shoot above the treeline.

She clings to me, nails digging into my shoulders.

The surge of wind is strong, but I maintain a careful grip.

She’s so frail; a single miscalculation might send her plummeting.

Our ascent is swift. She buries her face against my chest, trembling. My instincts sharpen—any misstep and I’ll lose her to the yawning darkness below. A fierce protectiveness grips me. No matter how reckless, I have to keep her safe.

We burst through the canopy, emerging into open sky.

The moon, still half-blanketed by lingering clouds, casts an otherworldly glow on the forest below.

Elyria breathes in ragged gasps. I angle my wings, fighting the gusts.

The collar at her throat reflects pale light, a stark reminder of her imprisonment.

My chest twists at the sight, but I fly on, heading toward the faint memory of that ruined outpost.

It’s not a short flight. The forest stretches for miles, thick with ancient pines and rugged slopes.

Now and then, I hear Elyria swallow back a sob or a curse, but she stays still, possibly out of sheer survival instinct.

My hold remains firm. I’ve carried prey before, though never with the intention of keeping it alive.

The lights of the dark elf fortress fade behind us.

The night’s hush settles in, punctuated by wind and the faint cry of nocturnal creatures.

My thoughts churn with confusion, my entire being thrumming with an awareness of the woman in my arms. She’s trembling uncontrollably— from cold?

terror? exhaustion? Possibly all three. I bank left, scanning the horizon, searching for the half-buried structure that lingers in the far corners of my fractured memories.

I spot what might be broken spires protruding from the forest canopy. The shape is subtle, crumbling stone lost to centuries of weather. A sense of recognition tugs at me—this is the place. With a deep inhalation, I descend.

The wind buffets us, swirling leaves and debris.

Elyria cries out as I land in a small clearing next to the ruin.

My feet slam into the ground, jarring us both.

She clings tighter, breath hot against my chest. Carefully, I loosen my hold and let her find her balance.

Her injured ankle can’t hold her weight, so she collapses onto the damp grass with a muffled gasp.

I kneel beside her. The structure behind us is indeed a ruin—an old watchtower mostly collapsed into a single, roofless chamber.

The walls stand about half their original height, broken at the top.

Vines and moss drape the stones, giving the place a ghostly feel.

A good enough hideout, though. The forest is thick, the tower nearly invisible from above.

“Where…?” Elyria swallows, wincing as she tries to shift into a less agonizing position. “Where have you brought me?”

“An old gargoyle outpost,” I answer, glancing around. “Abandoned long ago. No one will look for you here.”

She snorts, a sound born of fear-laced sarcasm. “That’s because no sane creature wants to come near it.”

I grunt. “Exactly.” My gaze flicks to her ankle, swollen and bruised.

I don’t bother asking permission before I wrap my hand around her calf, ignoring her startled hiss, and lift her foot to inspect the injury.

She tries to yank away, but I hold firm—gentler than I might with an enemy, but not exactly gentle either. “Stay still.”

“I’m fine,” she snaps, voice raw.

“You’re not.” A muscle in my jaw clenches.

The sight of her injuries, combined with the dirty, tattered clothes, the raw skin under that collar—it ignites a coiling rage in me.

She’s been tortured. Used. I exhale sharply, reminding myself to stay calm.

“It’s sprained, maybe worse. You won’t be able to walk on it. ”

She stares daggers at me. “So what do you care? I’m just a prisoner, right?”

My grip tightens involuntarily, and I catch a spark of fear in her eyes. I curse under my breath, easing my hold. “I’m… keeping you alive,” I say. “That’s more than you’d get anywhere else.”

She averts her gaze, pressing trembling fingers to her temples. “Why?” Her voice cracks. “Why didn’t you kill me?”

My entire body stiffens. The question I’ve been dreading. I clench my teeth. “Because I chose not to.”

“That’s not an answer.” She glares up at me, tears brimming but not falling.

I let out a harsh breath, standing abruptly.

My wings flare, a sign of agitation I can’t fully control.

How can I explain the swirl of impulses raging inside me?

I hardly understand them myself. I turn away, scanning the shadows in the crumbling tower.

At some point, I’ll need to gather wood, find or create a fire, because the night is cold, and she’s only human. Why do I keep thinking of her comfort?

Stone rubble litters the interior of the tower, forming a half-wall that might keep out the worst of the wind.

I notice a wide slab of rock that could serve as a makeshift seat—or a bed if I find enough moss or grass to cushion it.

“We’ll be safe here,” I finally say, ignoring her question. “I’ll get us wood for a fire.”

“Us?” she echoes, voice hushed. “Since when is this an us ?”

I bristle, turning back to her. She’s glaring, defiant despite her injury. “You want to freeze?”

She doesn’t respond, just wraps her arms around herself.

I take that as acceptance. With a low huff, I step out of the tower’s remains and into the surrounding woods.

Darkness envelops me, but my eyes adjust quickly.

I gather a few thick branches and logs I can carry without trouble, though the entire time, I’m acutely aware that this is madness .

I’ve abducted a human. I’m building her a fire.

She could be purna. If she awakens that magic, she might be capable of turning me to stone—or worse.

Then kill her now, Korrin, a voice in my head demands.

But every time I imagine that possibility, I recall the look on her face and feel an unexplainable wrench in my gut. I won’t. I can’t bring myself to do it.

Growling under my breath, I return with an armful of wood. She’s no longer by the tower wall. Panic stabs through me for a second, but then I see her hunched form: she’s managed to drag herself behind a fallen column, presumably to shield against the wind. At my approach, she tenses.

I drop the wood in a pile near the center of the tower’s floor. “Here.” My voice emerges harsher than intended. I see her flinch and exhale a shaky breath.

She tries to straighten but winces, clearly struggling to move her ankle.

I rummage through the rubble, finding a few pieces of flint from what might’ve once been the tower’s supply chest. With a grunt of effort, I spark them until the tinder catches a glow.

The small flame licks hungrily at the bark.

Warmth spreads slowly, flickering across the stone walls. Elyria watches me, eyes wide and wary. The glow illuminates her features, painting them in gold and shadow. My chest constricts at the sight of dried blood on her temple and bruises forming down her arms. She’s so breakable.