Page 2

ISABELLA

t’s dark, wet, and cramped. There is plenty of room for me to stand, but the tall, blond stranger in front of me only has a few extra inches to work with before he needs to bend down. He is working with a match to get the flame going, so I stand snugly next to him.

Small spaces suffocate me, so I try to think of something else – his hazel eyes that have more green in them than brown, his messy hair that’s strangely sexy on him, or the way he holds me. I should be repulsed. I should push away from him, but he feels safe; he stepped away when I asked him to, and he helped me run. Stupidly, I stay close, drawn by his magnetic pull.

I still want to claw my way out of this underground cave, which is making it hard for me to breathe, but the handsome stranger is right; staying up there is dangerous. Following a man that I just met is not the safest choice either, but nothing could be worse than going back to my father.

“Ha! There we go.” He places a small fire between us, and a pleased smile comes to my view.

I want to laugh at his simple spirit. He helped me escape my father’s men – still is, but he hasn’t asked for anything in return. Yet . That makes me suspicious, but just because my father is evil, it doesn’t mean everyone else is. To be honest, most people are good. My father is the problem.

“Shall we?” He extends his arm to the dark pathway in front of us.

The black stones lead into an endless abyss. I stare into the void, panic rising as my chest tightens. Small and dark space . My legs are numb. I try to inhale, but theair is not getting into my body.

“It’s okay. Breathe,” he whispers and rubs small circles on the small of my back.

His action should make me jump and scream, but I inhale and almost slump into his arm. The way his touch and presence soothe is confusing. Shaking off my fear and the things he does to my body, I straighten my shoulders and start walking.

My father does not define me. I will heal. I will be free. I will move on, I chant and take slow breaths.

“So, what is your name?” my stranger asks, his tone playful and energetic.

He reminds me of the days before last year – before my father came home. I smile up at him. “Isabella.”

“Bella,” he says, testing the sound of it.

“Isabella,” I repeat, my tone also playful.

“Izzy?” he asks, his brows raised.

I roll my eyes and giggle lightly. He is dangerously disarming, but my life has been hell, so I let myself have this. I deserve to let go of the pain. I turn around and walk backward for a second to ask him, “What is yours?”

“Jacob,” he answers quickly and looks behind me. “Watch where you are going,” he warns, but I don’t listen.

Instead, I squint and scan his body to think of a nickname for him. That was a grave mistake. My eyes are caught on his form – slim torso, strong chest hiding under that tan shirt, wide and fit shoulders.

Mother of Jesus . My skin goes hot.

My first reaction should be that he can easily slam me into the wall and do anything he wants against my will– those have been my thoughts of any man for the last year – but not with him. He appears to have something bright about him – like a light coming from within him.

“Watch where you’re going.” He quickly reaches over and places his hand behind my head.

I bump against a wall, but my head is protected by the soft padding of his palm. Jerking my head forward, I take a step towards him, and we stand only inches apart.

“Told you to watch where you are going.” He looks above me. Lifting the lantern, he picks off what I assume is dust out of my hair. “Oh, look. A spider,” he says, his tone a little too excited for my liking.

A spider! Tiny little critters that can scurry away quickly, hiding on any part of my body.

“Get it off!” I squeal, grab onto his shirt with a death grip, and press myself into him.

With my eyes shut tight and my heart erratically beating, I have my face plastered against his neck as I wait for him to swat it away.

“He’s harmless.” He chuckles and pulls his head back a bit. “Look.” He brings his hand over to show me the critter.

“Oh,” I mumble and look at the small creature. Its long legs move along Jacob’s arm, and its light-brown color isbarely visible in the dim space. “ Pholcus phalangioides ,” I whisper and observe it as it scurries away.

I overreacted. Now I feel silly about it. I am not afraid of bugs, it’s the idea that they can crawl somewhere on me and I won’t be able to know where they went. A spider wouldn’t want to make his home on my body, I realize that, but there is still that irrational part that fears the little guys.

It is a cellar spider; they like to live in moist and dark places. Their jaws are generally not strong enough to penetrate human skin, making them harmless. I know because it is a hobby I started a year ago. It was a method of coping – I studied insects, bugs, and flowers until I started to forget my nineteenth birthday. I think it helped because I don’t remember much of it anymore. I remember not wanting something to happen, but it did. Or did it? I’m not sure anymore. No, it did; the pain still lingers.

“Um…” Jacob starts, unsure what to say.

“You are right. Harmless.” I peel away and smile up at him.

“You okay?” he asks and proceeds to dust off whatever was on my head. “You got his web all over you.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

It’s strange how caring the man is. Maybe it’s just me overthinking it, but he is incredibly kind. I had Vera, my nanny, growing up, and she was incredible, but no one ever looked after me the way he does. It has only been an hour or so, and he saved me from my father’s goons, rubbed my back when I panicked – a satisfying action, might I add – stopped me from hitting my head, and picked the tiny little webs out of my hair.

I will not complain.

Soft evening light assaults my eyes when we get to the surface again. The alley is tucked away, so no one sees us come up, but I don’t think my father’s men will be looking for me here. Not for another day or two at least.

This part of the city is nice. The buildings are cleaner and taller – most are at least three stories tall. Some are painted a fresh white, and some remain the color of original red brick. The streets are tidy with small, neat shops scattered under the towering buildings.

I exhale, glad I am free for at least a little bit longer. Finding a place to sleep here will be a little more challenging, though. In the nicer parts, the sheriffs patrol for the homeless better, and there is no way in hell I can afford a hotel here. I can’t afford a hotel, period. I actually have no money at all.

Walking past the shops, a bakery gets my attention, and I stare at the little pastries. My stomach growls painfully, and my mouth waters. There is a chance I could kill to get my hands on one of those. Particularly that small one with the perfectly smooth, white cream piped on it.

My legs keep moving, but my head turns, my eyes unwilling to let go of the beautiful little thing that would feel so incredible in my mouth.

“You have to start looking where you are going,” Jacob whispers into my ear, his body suddenly next to mine.

Before I crash into him, his arm goes around my waist, and he holds me steady, guiding me into the café. Foolishly, I walk in.

I don’t have any money. I want to remind him, but my pride has been wounded enough, so I stay silent. He will buy his treats, and we will leave. The smell of sugar and berries assaults me, and I almost moan from the sweet aromas. Swallowing, I push away the tears of disappointment.

“What do you want?” he asks me as we stand next to the shelves of goods.

“Nothing.”

That one with the cream that looks like a cloud.

Jacob sighs and says, “I’ll take one of each.”

My eyes go wide. Is this man serious? There are at least ten different types.

“No. It’s fine. I’ll take that one.” I point to the one that has been calling to me. “I don’t have any money.” I lean in close and whisper into his ear so the other two people in the shop don’t hear me.

“I can tell,” he says, but his tone is light.

“I don’t know how I will be able to pay you back,” I whisper, my voice coming out nervous.

“I’m not expecting you to pay me back.” He chuckles.

The slim worker in a white apron hands us the pastry. Jacob takes it from him and gives it to me, his demeanor always calm. Hesitating for a moment, I consider not taking it, but my stomach growls audibly, and I snatch it out of his hand.

“We should get you some real food as well.” He laughs at the sounds my starved body is making.

It has been a little over a day since I last ate, and yes, I do need something more substantial, but I don’t understand why he cares.

“I’m okay,” I whisper and bite into the dessert.

Sweet. Tart. Crumbly. So good.

“Mhm,” he mumbles with a light smile and walks us out of the café.

As we casually and aimlessly stroll along the busy streets, I finish my treat. I am still hungry, but at least my stomach is not aching. The air is cool, creating a perfect breeze, and for a moment, I forget that I am on a run. The cobbled roads with carriages riding through them are clean, and the white buildings are practically immaculate.

It’s pretty here. If my father weren’t chasing me, I could imagine a life here. I would get a job somewhere – an assistant at a university or maybe at a library – and when I have free time, I would study plants. The reality is that my life will not be peaceful for as long as the vampire king knows I am alive.

Pushing away my daydreams, I walk alongside each other in comfortable silence, and I don’t know why I am still following him.

Does he still want me around? Should we go our separate ways now—

“Want to sit there for a moment?” He points to a luscious patch of green grass by a stone water fountain.

“Um, sure,” I respond, taking in the beautiful spot across the street.

Without hesitation, I head that way. Maybe I shouldn’t trust him so easily, but the way he stays close, never forcing his presence on me, makes me feel safe – as if I have a choice. I don’t feel like suffocating around him.

My steps are confident across the road. Arms wrap around my waist, and I am taken aback by the action. Before I have the chance to complain, a carriage whooshes in front of me. Stunned into silence, I stare ahead of me, my heart in my throat from the near miss.

With a sigh, he turns me to face him and takes my face into both of his hands. Our eyes meet, and I stare at him, slowly blinking.

“You’ve got to look where you are going,” he says, his voice insistent but soft.

Inhaling, I try not to think how spacy I have been lately; I have been like this for the past year. I think my mind is doing its best to protect me. Something terrible happened, but I chose to forget it, blocking it out. If I pay attention to everything around me, then I fear I will remember.

You don’t need to remember . I swallow a lump.

“No, I don’t. I’ll be okay.” I smile up at him, forcing the joy back into my soul.

The books call my erratic behavior a defense mechanism. I say I do what I must to protect my heart.

I am happy . No one can take that away from me. No matter what, I will get my glee back – the days before my father came back last year. He was away for six years, leaving Vera, my nanny, to raise me. Apparently, he was ready to rule Sirkup again after training with the Fay of the forest. Stupidly, I thought he would return a kinder man.

Jacob’s eyebrows go up, and he laughs, so I exhale with relief. He doesn’t think that I am weird or broken.

His laugh is so beautiful that my heart does something funky. Something in me craves to hold on to his joy.

When we cross the road, his hand is hovering – never touching— at the small of my back. It is a protective stance, and my heart aches at that. He does it so naturally and instinctively, as if he does this all the time for all the ladies.

I know I am running because my father plans on doing the same thing this year as he did on my last birthday, yet the memory of the actual event has faded.

My father has hurt me . That thought painfully squeezes my heart.

As pleasant as this strange man is, I must keep running. The plan is to board the ship and hop the Islands of Geily until I get to the continent of Prie. Once there, I can get lost on the massive continent and live my life like it was before my father reappeared.

How am I going to make all of that happen? I don’t know. There is no well-thought-out plan. As it’s obvious by the fact that I have no money or resources.

The grass is soft and cool when we sit down. I lean back on my hands and watch the passing people for a moment. Everyone is going somewhere. Some arein a hurry, and others simply enjoy the walk. A few are alone, and some have company. There is chatter here and there, but it is peaceful.

Jacob lies flat on his back and closes his eyes immediately. Looking up at the sky, I find fluffy clouds sparsely floating, even though the evening is approaching quickly. It will get dark shortly, and I will have to part with my stranger.

“Oh. There is a bear,” I comment on the shape of the cloud lazily passing by. It was a game Vera and I used to play; we would wait for clouds to pass us andthen guess what shapes they were. “That one looks like a bunny.” I spot another one. “And there is a dragon.”

It’s a silly childhood game, but it brings warmth to my soul. When I focus on the minor things in life and find satisfaction in them, I feel free. Right now, I need that escape.

Jacob grunts, so I look down at him. His eyes squeeze shut, and his lips twist as he exhales heavily. Assuming he is annoyed with my obnoxious behavior, I stop talking and bring my knees to my chest. I don’t know where to go from here, so I sit and pick at the blades of grass.

I will figure it out somehow.