Page 14

Chapter nine

M y legs and lungs burned as I pulled the man through the smoothest path toward the cottage, a trail of blood left in our wake.

We reached the cottage in record time, right as the sheet started to rip.

The step onto the porch was the biggest issue that had me cursing every second of the way, but I was eventually able to drag him inside.

Placing him next to the fire, I quickly set the poker in the flame before grabbing more sheets to hold pressure on the wounds.

Even for a fae, he would most likely die from the blood loss if I didn’t get it stopped.

But I was out of my element, I’d never seen them not heal from anything other than steel. I just hoped that this plan would work.

“Hello. . . Sir?” I said hesitantly, as I gripped his hard chin and shook his head, which got no response. His breathing was becoming shallow and his pulse beneath my fingers was slowing. “Shit!”

I used his unconsciousness to my advantage and grabbed the now glowing metal stick—positioning it to gashes that were pinched between my knee and my other hand. His skin sizzled as it melted together, causing the nauseating scent of cooked meat to fill the cottage. He didn’t move or make a sound.

One cut after another, I melted the skin together.

Just as I set the poker to the last cut, I felt his body tense against me.

It was the only warning I had before he released a roar so loud that it had me jumping back into the couch.

I hurriedly set the metal back into the flame to reheat and gripped his shoulders—holding him down.

Two rich green emeralds met my eyes—confusion and pain etched into the face around them.

“Hey! STOP! ” I yelled, trying to bring his attention to me. His fist clenched at his sides, and he used them to hit the floorboard. A distraction from his pain. “I know it hurts. . .”

He glanced away as tears began to well, but I moved myself back into his view.

“I still need to close the last one.”

His jaw was clenched so tight, I wasn’t sure he would be able to open it even if he wanted to.

At last, he released a heavy breath through his strong nose and nodded in approval to finish.

Collecting the poker once more, I didn’t allow him time to change his mind.

Immediately pressing the poker to his chest, I held it there until each section of the gash was closed.

His jaw unlocked as he roared once again, this time with a curse. When he had no more energy to continue, he placed his fist in his mouth and bit down.

“I’m sorry, I know it hurts. I’m so sorry,” I repeated.

I finished, and the blood slowed, bringing it to a slight ooze through the burns.

I wet a cloth and dabbed away some of the blood on his skin.

His torso, now up close, showed precisely how toned his body was even more.

Muscles rippled underneath the tan, smooth skin that smelled of trees, with a hint of blood and melted flesh.

He watched me with droopy eyes as I worked to clean him up. His body was still tense with the waves of pain that shivered through him every few seconds. I finished with the wet cloth and grabbed a thin, fresh one, slathering honey on it before gently sticking it to his chest.

“What are you doing?” he breathed, his voice hoarse from the screaming.

“Honey helps relieve pain and inflammation from burns while also sterilizing them.” I responded, slightly smoothing the fabric over the grooves of his chest before moving to grab him some water.

“You look too young to know so much,” he said before sipping from the cup as I helped him sit up slightly.

“I’m eighteen,” I clarified, “and I used to patch up the men in the camp where I was held captive.”

His gaze looked up to meet mine, taking me in with new eyes. After one more sip of water, I helped him up onto the couch. He laid there with the bottom half of his legs hanging off the end as he fought through the new bout of pain from the move.

I messed with the fire, waiting the few minutes that it took for him to fall asleep before trudging back out in what was now a few inches of snow to harvest the beast.

I was able to gather a majority of the pelt and some of the meat, which required several trips back to the cottage that left me sweaty in the midst of the freezing temperatures. Once the pelt was hung on the drying rack and the meat was stored in the makeshift cellar, I walked back inside.

I sat on the floor in front of the fire, watching the mysterious man as he slept.

He had a square jaw that left a divot in the middle of his chin, with lips that looked soft and.

. . kissable. I’d never kissed a man before.

Most eighteen-year-olds were getting married off to the most suitable connection for their family or extending their studies, and I was living on my own in the woods.

I’d never even taken studies. Hugh taught me to read and write, and ever since my escape, I’ve done everything I could to go to the library in the city, trying to gather as much information as possible.

Although most of that either had to do with the history of Sedonia, or how to survive it.

Unlike other women whose sole focus was how to trap a man.

My eyes switched back to the fire, and I watched as the orange flames flickered back and forth, moving shadows along the walls in my peripheral. I became so lost in the mesmerizing movements that I didn’t even notice the man had woken up until he cleared his throat, causing me to jump.

He smirked at my reaction, and mumbled, “Sorry.” Gone was the earlier raspiness, replaced by a mostly smooth and enticing voice that made me want to hear more.

“Do you need something?” Irritation at the startle put a slight snap in my tone that I made a note to correct.

“Water, if you don’t mind.”

I retrieved him a fresh cup, helping him once again to sit up enough to drink it. He downed most of the glass in a few short gulps, stopping only when he needed to take a breath. Gods, how does he make breathing look sexy?

I made myself busy with starting dinner—eradicating any more opportunities to sit and ogle him.

Soon fresh meat, cut-up potatoes, and vegetables were cooking in oil over the fire, garnished with grapefruit.

My face felt hot, both from being near the fire for too long and from the man’s gaze being on me the entire time.

Reaching my breaking point, I set my hands on my hips and turned to him, “Stop staring at me.”

“I can’t," he said with a sly grin, "I’m trying to understand you."

“There is nothing about me for you to understand.”

“I’m trying to understand why someone like you would live alone in the woods, taking care of strangers who stupidly almost get themselves killed.”

My brows knit together and irritation once again filled my voice, “What do you mean, someone like me?”

“I mean someone who is clearly capable of doing many things.” He haphazardly waved a hand toward the wrap on his chest. “Not to mention, it seems like such a waste of a beautiful face to keep it where no one can see it,” he said, outright admiring me more to convey the utter seriousness in his words.

Something fluttered in my stomach, irritation fleeing. I turned back to the food, distracting myself while I searched for something to say in response. I only found one answer to explain, “It’s peaceful.”

Silence filled the space between us for a few moments before he spoke again, “What’s your name?”

The question threw me for a loop, not because it was absurd but because it hadn’t occurred to me that we didn’t know the one basic thing about each other. “My name is Mira—What’s yours?”

“Nickolai, but my friends call me Nic,” he reached out a hand to the best of his ability, and I took it.

His large hand dwarfed mine, the rough calluses brushing against my soft skin.

The feeling of it had my heart wanting to leap out of my chest with nerves.

We got lost in each other's eyes, only breaking the trance at the smell of the food starting to burn.

The rest of the night was uneventful, filled with awkward silences while we ate and tried not to outright stare at each other the entire time. I changed the wrap on his chest—his skin on my fingers sending another jolt through me that I tried to ignore. If he felt it too, he didn’t let on.

—

I locked myself in my room after the meeting, feeling both physically and mentally drained from the nightmare of my sleep and Nickolai’s questioning. The only other interactions I had were with Ysabel, who brought me food, and Nessy telling me that the group would be leaving in the morning.

Their plan was to travel southeast, before heading in the direction of Ansburough—the city on the shore closest to Wrodgow.

We would be moving through the thickest part of the forest and should hopefully run across a few of the monsters, giving us plenty of chances to capture one of the beasts without being killed.

It was one thing to kill the monsters and burn the evidence. But it became a whole other thing entirely when we were supposed to keep them in one piece.

The image of the aufhocker walking away from me filled my mind, continuing to haunt me each day, along with the images of that woman and her baby.

Never has a beast walked away from the easy prey of a human, let alone an injured one.

But something about that situation told me not to share it with the others.

I spent the night tossing and turning until the sky outside started to lighten and I finally gave up on getting any sleep. Choosing, instead, to light a lantern and roam about the palace. My door was located at the end of a long corridor, putting my room in a corner.

As I exited, Sigric perked up with eagerness to help me. “Do you need anything, Miss?” he asked without even a hint of tiredness in his voice.

I shook my head. “Just exploring.”

“I can guide you if you would like,” he offered, taking a step forward.