Page 8 of Unraveled (A Kingdom of Beasts and Ruins #1)

I’m not dead and it wasn’t a dream. A beast of nightmares took me from my home.

My eyelids are heavy when I open them, like I’ve been asleep for days—months even. The only reason I know I’m alive is because every cell in my body fires with pain.

The surrounding room is dark, with tall ceilings and bleak wallpaper. My blurry vision does little to gather more details. I’m not in the forest anymore, but I’m far from home.

I hold in the groan that almost spills past my lips and shift my body over the soft surface I lie on. It smells smoky, like a campfire in the woods and fine tobacco.

Blinking rapidly, I take quick breaths in an attempt to ease the pain in my side. I’m keenly aware I should remain still—and quiet—to figure out where I am and why I’m alive.

There’s something cold and wet running down the side of my torso and sticking to my dress. I don’t think I’ve got it in me to check how bad my injury is, so I focus on everything but that.

Other than the sound of a crackling fire, I’m surrounded by silence. I tilt my head and find I’m lying on a tufted couch of forest-green velvet. In front of me, there’s a massive fireplace crafted of black marble.

Wooden bookcases line most of the walls, and the scent of leather fills the room. A study, perhaps? No matter, at least the familiarity of books around me soothes my soul.

There are magical grimoires in this place, and they whisper to me.

I struggle to find the threads of their power under the layers of my pain.

Their voices are far from gentle. It’s almost like these specific tomes don’t want to speak with me but are disgruntled by everything around them.

I reach for my amulet and... it’s gone.

Did I drop it back in the forest? I grip the sofa and push myself up with shaking arms, searching the tile floor around me. The room begins to spin. Where did it go?

Loud steps come from outside the wooden doors, stopping me before I rise from where I sit. The doorknob twists, and I lie back down in the same position I was when I woke, doing a remarkable job at ignoring the pain shooting from my wounds.

The door cracks open, bringing in the frigid winter breeze. A spicy-fruity scent wafts in, reminding me of roses.

“You know what this means, Ash. She can’t stay.”

I shut my eyes right as I glimpse the beast’s massive wings. They block what little light might seep in from the outside.

“I know.” The beast’s voice rumbles as their steps move inside. The door closes behind them, and the room grows warm again. “It’s not like I had a choice.”

My heartbeat thrashes in my ears, and my thoughts run wild. Who is the second voice, and why did the beast bring me to this place?

“You are perfectly capable of ignoring the pull of the blood moon. You’ve been doing it for a decade. What made it different this time?” the first voice says.

My lips tremble as the ache becomes too much to ignore. I put it away in a little box inside my mind, where it can’t invade my every thought. I need to remain aware of what is happening if I’m to escape whatever fate the beast has planned for me.

“It’s different because she attacked me with... peculiar magic.” The beast’s voice lowers at the end, like he isn’t sure he should speak this aloud. Silence takes over the room, and my breath is loud as I wait for one of them to speak.

“I begged you not to go to that hellish town,” the first voice says with a tone of resignation I can’t understand. Why would he care whether the beast went anywhere? And who are they?

“Tell me, Finley, since you’re so wise: What is going to happen if the sacrifices continue?”

Sacrifices? Could the beast be referring to what Skylar and Irene are doing in that tower? Is that why he targeted the building? Or is it something else? The silence extends long enough I almost give up my pretense of being unconscious and peek at them.

“Did you consider what will happen to the humans once their little shield comes down? The lunargyres will swarm that place.”

“So be it.”

My breath hitches. They stop speaking again, but this time the silence is broken by the rustle of fabric. A rug muffles the stomping of big, clawed feet as they close in on me.

Fuck. He must know about the scientists taking beasts.

I need to get back to Penumbra and let Irene know. Whether he knows that their magic powers the veil is unclear. But he’s ready to condemn my city to make them stop.

I try my best to look like a good, unconscious prisoner. My amulet is nowhere near me. Without it, I can’t cast spells. Sweat prickles the back of my skull.

“You can stop pretending, Mia. We know you’re awake,” the beast says.

I blink my eyes open, and his massive body casts a shadow over me. He must stand almost seven feet tall.

“How do you know my name?” I push my body against the back of the sofa and hiss as pain wakes down my side. My vision blurs again, and I bite on my lip to prevent myself from crying out.

I can’t show him I’m weakened by my condition. It would make me easier prey. Perhaps he doesn’t know I lost my necklace and I’m as defenseless as any unarmed human.

After all, magic is a rare gift, and very few can master it without an amulet.

The beast tilts his head, stepping closer to me until his knees touch the edge of the sofa. “The other woman on the rooftop called you by that name right before she shot me.”

I meet his eyes, and warmth spreads through me. It’s the same warmth I felt earlier when he broke through the veil. A sense of belonging.

I hate how my heart sputters at hearing my name from his lips, so I say, “Well, you don’t get to call me that.”

His gaze is bright, even as it narrows on me. It’s then I notice he’s wearing clothes, unlike earlier in the evening.

He shrugs. “I guess I enjoy calling you Monster. It suits you.”

“I’m not a monster,” I snarl, and anger blurs the edges of my pain. “You are.”

A slow smile tilts his lips. It’s cold and calculating and does nothing to ease the dread spreading through my body. “Did no one teach you manners, Little Monster?”

My lips part and close again. “You’re the one calling me Monster—?” I stop myself from continuing this useless argument and change tack. “Let me go.”

He crosses his arms and looks amused as he says, “I don’t think so.”

Gods, I hate him.

“What is this place, and why did you bring me here?” Unsteadily, I start to stand, ignoring my wounds and fear. My vision darkens as I attempt to take in my surroundings, and shock surges in my chest as he catches me right before I fall face-first to the ground.

He’s more gentle than I expect as he helps me settle back. “You’re injured,” he says coldly, like he can’t believe he needs to remind me of the fact.

When our eyes meet, I feel the same pull in my gut as I did before.

He steps away from me like I burned him. “I tried to stop the bleeding, but healing magic is not my calling.”

Heal me? Why would he want to heal me? Is this some sort of sick game? “If you’re not going to eat me, then why am I here?”

“Are you that eager to be devoured?”

“No.” My cheeks burn, and I know he doesn’t mean it as anything carnal. I’m not even sure why my mind went there.

“Then be thankful I don’t crave humans, Monster,” he says, and his eyes glow a little brighter.

I jump at the sound of a male clearing his throat. Finley—if I remember correctly—walks from behind the beast’s body and stops beside him, like they’re old friends inspecting an injured animal.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Finley says with a small smile, “but while this conversation is riveting, we don’t have time.”

I gape at the newcomer; he’s human. At least half a head shorter than the beast, Finley has a slender build and long, dark blond hair that falls in soft curls over his ears, blending almost seamlessly with the golden tone of his skin.

A conventionally attractive man. The kind of dangerous beauty Irene would fall head over heels for. Next to the massive winged beast, Finley looks like a harmless beacon of hope.

“She smells strongly of blood,” he says to the beast and looks down at my body. Not in a predatory way, but a clinical one. “Let me heal her, and you can talk later. That’s why you brought me here.”

I try to catch the coppery scent of blood, but I can’t move much, let alone smell whatever Finley is referring to. In the back of my mind, I know I should protest that it’s not the beast who gets to decide whether I’m healed by a stranger or not.

But why would I stop them from saving me? It’s the only way I’ll be able to escape.

During my time in the library, I studied the art of healing in the old grimoires. My wounds must be deep enough to risk an infection, and if I’m to travel back to Penumbra by foot, I need all my strength.

Finley kneels in front of me, holding a small leather case full of potions and bandages. He reaches for me, and I push back and away from his touch.

My heart hammers in my chest, and my mind whirls with what-ifs. Why am I alive, about to be healed by a magical human?

“I will not hurt you, Mia. Quite the contrary. If I don’t treat the lunargyre wounds, they will fester and you risk losing your arm.”

His words have the desired effect, and I sit still as he rolls up the tatters of my dress’s sleeves and begins cleaning the scrapes left behind by the beast’s teeth.

I hold my breath when he presses the first cotton swab to the gashes on my skin. It burns like alcohol but has a strange reddish tint. Like the light of the blood moon spilling in through the lancet windows.

“You seem to be taking this well,” Finley says, pointing at my bloodied arm. He is studying me like I’m a curiosity that needs to be unraveled.

“A cut to my skin is not new to me,” I say, but don’t elaborate.

The scars on my body from my parents’ training spring to mind.

They started teaching Irene and me to wield swords and daggers as soon as we entered our teen years.

A way to defend ourselves from the beasts—or any trouble that may come.