Page 1 of Stormbinder King (Stormbinder Pack #1)
S mack
I hit the ground hard, dirt filling my mouth as tree roots dug painfully into my belly and thighs. Too stunned to move, I lay there gasping for breath.
My whole body felt like I’d slammed into the side of a freight train.
The hell? What had happened to me?
Gradually the ringing noise in my head subsided, and I began to hear sounds like the soft caw of birds and the rustling of wind through the trees.
My head spun as I sat up gingerly. It looked like I had landed somewhere in the middle of a strange forest, dappled lights flickering onto the uneven, veiny ground.
Where was I?
It was very warm, the air thick with a humid heat, the trees bowing under the weight of their heavy, wet moss and leaves.
In the slanted light that made it through the overhanging trees, I blinked in astonishment.
There was something wrong about this forest. The hairs on the back of my neck were rising, my heart pounding, yet there was no one around that I could see.
Really, where the hell was I?
This morning I had been gritting my teeth and reminding myself that a job was necessary for things like food and rent as I led a group of snickering teenagers around the art museum where I worked as a receptionist.
I was 26 years old and had a graduate degree in Art History but the only thing I’d gotten from that major was a situationship named Kyle and not enough money to afford a decent apartment.
I’d probably have better luck with a statue , I thought as I glanced up at the thick marble thighs of the nearest huge sculpture.
It looked like some strange monstrous hybrid between a man and a beast, with long, dripping fangs.
At least a sculpture wouldn’t leave me on read for a week and then text back, “Sup.”
I was just waiting for someone special , someone I felt something for beyond just mild interest.
As I stood there, I noticed the statue was crumbling a bit at the base.
Well, shit. Had someone been digging at it? I moved forward in silent horror. We were in the Unknown Origins exhibit, full of different pieces of art the curators couldn’t identify or figure out who had made them.
I had to at least know how bad the damage was. My hands brushed carefully at the base, trying not to dislodge the crumbling marble pieces.
What was this? It looked like there was a symbol underneath the outer plaster covering the statue.
It looked like two wolves, grappling together.
Even though I knew I shouldn’t, the colors were so vivid, the lines of claw and fang so sharp that I couldn’t help touching it with a little shiver of fear at how ferocious and violently they fought.
As soon as my fingers met the symbol, I felt the terrifying sensation of the ground opening beneath me. Then I saw nothing except a confusing whirl of colors and flashes, so bright that their exquisite brilliance seemed to pierce my skull, digging like nails into my head.
I closed my eyes and screamed.
That was the last thing I remembered before I was plunged into this terrifying new reality.
I barely had a chance to look around before I heard loud, rough voices.
My head was still ringing and I turned around to see what looked like a group of tall men in dark, plain clothes that blended into the forest.
“What are you doing out here, fool girl?” a rough man’s voice barked out at me. “You have some kind of death wish?”
“I-I don’t know,” I said, my eyes still so bleary that I couldn’t quite focus on them.
“Just put her in the outrigger!” another man snapped. “I need a piss. I’m not sticking around this forest to wait and see what comes out.”
“Fucking hurry then. I don’t want to risk Prince Jack’s anger,” the first voice insisted.
I was suddenly plucked up with a muscular hand and dragged through the leaves as I struggled feebly in his arms, my head still spinning.
The sound of running water grew louder, thunderous in my ears, and my vision cleared as a spray of cool droplets splashed into my face.
It looked like there was a strong, deep-blue river here, wide enough for one outrigger to pass at a time.
Then I was unceremoniously dumped inside one and two of the men got in and began to take us downstream.
“Wait!” I croaked.
How was I going to know how to get back?
But no one could hear me.
I looked up from where I was crumpled on the rough floor to see other women in the nearby outriggers, all very beautiful and tall.
Shocked and disoriented, I clutched the side of the outrigger as we passed through more heavy, dense forest, the dripping leaves pressing in on me, depositing pools of warm, humid water onto my arm.
Did I have a concussion? Where in the world was I?
For the first several minutes of the journey, we navigated through sputtering angry rapids, and my knuckles gripped the sides so hard I felt splinters drive deep into my skin.
Surely we were going to be dashed to death on these hard rocks!
Somehow I couldn’t even cry out, couldn’t close my eyes, could do nothing but watch in frozen horror.
But then we passed them by and headed for calmer waters, the rough-looking men having to dig deep with their oars to propel us forward.
“Take me back,” I finally croaked, my mouth and throat feeling unbearably dry.
The only way back must be where I had hit the ground, but every moment we were getting further and further away!
How could I ever find it again?
When the man in front ignored me, I tugged desperately at his pants leg.
“Please take me back. I need to get home.”
The man looked at me as if I was stupid, his lips curling up as he took in my much shorter stature and my pearl-gray pantsuit covered in a thick layer of mud.
“I’d be happy to dump you off somewhere, but I’m not risking my hide hanging around in that forest any longer than I have to. Nope, you’re going to be taken to the Stormbinder village and then Prince Jack can decide what to do with you.”
“Who?” I whimpered, but he had already turned back to chart his course.
There was a gentle tug on my jacket and the woman beside me hissed in my ear.
“Do you not know what can happen to you in the forest alone?” she whispered anxiously. “We are going to the village for Moonbright Night.”
“What. . . what does that mean?” I asked.
“How do you not know what Moonbright Night is?” she cried incredulously, clasping her hands together.
They were all staring at me now, all their beautiful eyes wide and disbelieving.
“Oh—I know what it is,” I muttered, dropping my eyes in confusion.
I fell silent, clutching my muddy, filthy pants tightly to keep myself from screaming.
Every cell in my body wanted throw myself out of the outrigger and run screaming away, but I was too afraid to.
What was Moonbright Night?
But no one else seemed to be afraid of it. There was an almost erotic thrum of excitement that I felt pounding through the group, connecting each outrigger as we wound our way under the heavy overhang of trees.
The temperature grew hotter and more humid, forcing me to peel off my suit jacket. If I ever got back home, it was so soaked with sweat I’d need to burn it.
I was left in only my thin white tank top, my back sticky with sweat, the humid sultry heat running down my chest.
Just as I pulled my heavy dark hair off my neck, a low growl rolled out from the dense thicket of greenery beside me.