Page 4

CHAPTER 4

I didn't sleep, not really. I lay curled on the too-large cot they gave me, surrounded by musty dirt and stone walls under a ceiling that groaned with every step of something far too heavy. Every time I drifted, I'd wake to another sound… a footfall, a growl, the flap of wings, or the low hiss of something slithering just beyond the trapdoor.

The blanket scratched against my skin. I pulled it tighter anyway, needing the warmth more than I feared what lingered in its ancient fibers.

Morning came with no sunlight, only the cold realization that I was trapped in a house with seven cursed men who wanted my blood, and maybe something more. Their curse was my inheritance, a twisted birthright I never asked for. My fingertips tingled with it, that strange power that had drawn me here, the same power that now kept me alive among predators.

Hours passed in the darkness. How would I know when it was night again? I crept to the door at the end of the stairs. It didn't budge. Not locked, just... heavy. Too heavy for someone like me. The second I pushed, I heard a growl on the other side.

The door lifted effortlessly. Garrett stood on the other side, naked, shoulders tense, and arms crossed over his chest. Did these guys even own clothing? Wait, did townspeople who saw them as dwarves see them naked too? Or did the clothing magically appear too? Scars raked across his bronze skin… claw marks, too large to be human. His dark eyes burned gold in the dim light, animal and watchful.

"Where are you going?" he asked, not harshly, but firm enough to make me pause.

"Out," I said. "I don't like cages."

"It's not a cage," he replied. "It's protection."

"That's what she said," I muttered, and something dark flickered across his face.

He didn't stop me when I opened the door to the outside, but I felt him watching every step I took into the fog-thick night air. His gaze burned between my shoulder blades like a brand. Actually, I was surprised when my boots hit the detritus as I stepped off the porch.

The forest looked different in the dead of night… colder, hungrier. Trees stretched too tall, branches reaching like gnarled fingers. The ground felt spongy beneath my boots, rich with decay. I half-expected to hear the sounds of forest animals, but there was nothing. No sound. No life. Just quiet… and the distant snap of a twig that didn't come from me.

I turned, scanning the trees. Something was out there, watching. The hair on my arms stood on end. My breath puffed white in the cold air, and I backed toward the cabin slowly. Whatever watched me was hunting me. I felt it in my bones, in the ancient blood that cursed me to this place, to these men.

But it wasn't one of them. Somehow, I knew I was safer with the beast-men than I was outside their cabin.

When I returned to the cabin, the wolf-man was leaning in the doorway, smirking like he'd been waiting for me to come crawling back. His gray eyes cut through me, amused and bitter all at once. Sandy hair fell across his forehead, giving him a boyish look that his sharp smile instantly destroyed.

"Feel better now, forest princess?" His voice dripped with mockery.

"You're a jackass," I snapped.

"Actually, I'm a wolf, remember? Name's Ronan. Glad we're establishing roles," he said, pushing off the frame and stalking past me with the confidence of someone who knew exactly how much he unsettled people. His shoulder brushed mine, accidentally or not, and he flinched away like I'd burned him.

Inside, Kade was sharpening a knife. Not looking at me. Not speaking. But the tension in his body told me everything… He'd been listening. Black hair fell across eyes so dark they swallowed light. His movements were precise, economical, and deadly. The blade caught firelight as it swept across the whetstone. Scrape. Scrape. Scrape. The rhythm of it reminded me of a heartbeat.

"He doesn't like you leaving," The annoying fox-man called from the rafters, lounging like a fox in a sunbeam. Auburn hair glinted copper as he grinned down at me, green eyes dancing with mischief and something darker. "None of us do."

"Why?" I asked, spinning to face him. "Because I might die?"

"Because you might break us," he answered, voice laced with something I didn't want to name. His fingers drummed against his thigh, restless, as if he longed to touch what he couldn't have.

I couldn't figure these guys out. They needed me, needed my heart to break the curse, but they hadn't killed me. Oh, they easily could. Any one of them could overpower me and in a matter of seconds I'd be the sacrifice they needed. And yet, they protected me from themselves and from the hunters.

The stag-man appeared beside me, silent and calm, and handed me a mug of something hot. Taller than the others, he moved with careful grace, like someone constantly aware of his strength. Deep russet hair fell past his shoulders, and his eyes held knowledge that seemed ancient.

"It helps," he said softly. "With the headaches. The curse causes them. I'm Evander. He's Cassian."

I hadn't mentioned my headache to anyone. The throb behind my temples had started the moment I crossed the property line yesterday. I took the mug warily.

"You mean the part where I'm apparently bait for your collective doom?" I sipped anyway. It tasted like pine needles and smoke, but it warmed me. The pain eased almost instantly, and I hated being grateful to any of them.

"We don't want to hurt you," Evander added, eyes so sincere they made my throat tighten. "But you're not safe. And we're forever doomed and tortured by the curse. It gets to you after a century or two."

"I figured that out the moment one of you growled at me for breathing too loud." I took another sip, watching him over the rim of the mug. His fingers trembled slightly when he pushed his hair back. Control. They were all clinging to it even though they all seemed on the verge of being feral.

Garrett returned, arms tense, jaw tighter than before. His gaze swept the room, cataloging each man's position before settling back on me. It seemed the bear in him was never far from the surface… territorial, protective, dangerous.

"You're not a prisoner. But if you run, they'll find you."

"Them?" I asked. "The hunters?"

"Or worse," The hawk-man said from the stairs, rubbing the back of his neck, golden hair wild. Tattoos snaked up his arms and over his shoulders. His nakedness affected me just like the others. Did none of them own clothing? "The forest listens when she speaks."

"Leif." Garret warned on a growl.

Leif didn't seem to care as he came closer, eyes bright with challenge. "But you're not scared of us, are you?"

I didn't answer, and he grinned.

"Didn't think so." He stepped in close, too close, body heat pressing against mine as his palm slid along the edge of the wall beside my head. The others watched, suddenly still, hungry.

"You don't get it yet, do you?" Leif whispered, lips brushing my ear. "We can't touch you. But that doesn't mean we don't want to."

My breath hitched. His amber eyes dropped to my lips. Heat flooded through me, pooling low in my belly. Not fear… something else, something dangerous and wanting. Then he stepped back with a wink, like he hadn't just lit me on fire.

And the worst part? I didn't want the flames to go out.

I clutched the mug tighter as Leif sauntered away. The room felt charged, electric with unspoken things. Seven cursed men. Seven beasts trapped in human skin. And me, somehow both their salvation and their destruction.

The curse thrummed between us, ancient and hungry. It wanted blood. It wanted touch. It wanted everything I shouldn't give.

"You should eat," Evander said gently, breaking the tension. "The forest takes strength."

I nodded, not trusting my voice. But as I followed him toward what passed for a kitchen, I felt their eyes on me. Garrett's protective glare. Ronan's bitter amusement. Kade's silent intensity. Cassian's playful hunger. And Leif… Leif's blatant want. I'd figure them all out eventually… maybe.

Seven men. Seven monsters. And me, already falling into their trap.