Caged by Damnation (Caged #2)(61)

SAVANNAH

I awoke to a throbbing headache, expecting to find myself buried in blood, or the corpses of the dead. Instead, I was somewhere else entirely, lying in a twin-sized bed. It was nothing fancy, with a peach colored down comforter and bars on either side to keep me from falling off. The window was open, allowing sunlight to stream into the room, lighting the wooden walls and a single oak dresser, chair, and mirror.

Sitting up, it was obvious that my injuries had not completely healed. When I looked down, I wondered if healing had occurred at all. My white pajama top showed signs of torn stitches in my abdomen; my arms were covered in scrapes and bruises.

Walking to the full-length mirror, I was struck by the zombie before me. The skin around my eyes made a canvas of black, blue, purple, and greenish-yellow. My cheek was badly swollen, and my bottom lip was split down the side. Taking the sheet from the bed, I draped it over the mirror. I didn't need to view evidence of my trials.

Where was I? Outside the window, I could see a field beside trees, reminding me of the secluded country. A white fence surrounded a garden and what I assumed was a house, which I was currently standing in. Vines climbed the stone wall beside my window, sprouting roses. I could see a simple deck protruding from around the corner, complete with a cement clearing and birdbath at its center. The sight of such beauty made me feel more rested than I had in a long time.

Reluctant to be sucked back into the drama, I traced the stitching in the drapes around the windows. The soft rose and ivory scrollwork was beautiful and perfectly matched the bowed ceiling. The floor was the same wood as the walls, and a slate gray rug lay beneath the bed. Beyond the bed were two doors; one was open, revealing a bathroom with hardly enough room for a single, petite woman. It was rustic, containing essentials, but nothing more. The other door was more daunting, as I was sure it led to the rest of the house.

I grabbed a plush robe the shade of apricots that was folded across the dresser. After carefully wrapping myself in it, I stared the door down, wondering what lay on the other side. Would my family be there or would I find that the darkness had seeped from my mind into my waking world?

How had Griffin, Liam, and I escaped? The last thing I remembered before plummeting towards defeat, the three of us had been dying. I could understand Liam's survival, but mine was startling. Amidst these thoughts crept a more terrifying one: what if I was still locked in my mind and this was a figment of my imagination? Was I brave enough to face that reality? The other side of the door could be salvation or damnation, but I wouldn't know which until I turned the knob to face my reckoning.

Before I could muster enough bravery, or chicken out, the door opened from the other side. I fell backwards, scrambling away from the threat. It was a man, but I wasn't sure that was the accurate term. He was seven feet of pure muscle, with enough scars to warn away enemies. He looked down at me with exasperation. A jagged scar marred his face from his temple to the corner of his mouth, and a smaller scar angled across his neck.

His black hair was chin-length, fading to medium brown, framing his defined chin and hawk-like nose, and hiding most of his facial scar. He looked like he hadn't had time to shave lately.

His eyes narrowed, striking my core, as if his gaze was a stronger weapon than the one I had been skewered with. His eyes were a piercing midnight blue, the shade of fish scales; they positively screamed poison. Wasn't that the rule in nature: bright colors were a warning of a slow, agonizing death?

"What are you doing out of bed?" he growled. "We didn't endanger our race to save your lives only for you to throw it away." The blue of his eyes melted away, churning into a heated storm.

Grabbing the chair, I placed it between us and he threw it at the wall, stalking towards me.

I said, "I'm fine, really."

He looked me up and down, his eyes alighting on the fresh blood spreading from my torn stitches, and he raised an eyebrow. Leaning into me, he smelled of a fresh shower, and spoke an inch away from my face. "If you don't hightail your ass back to bed, I'm going to put you there myself and you won't like the way I’ll do it."

In shock, I nodded, walked to my bed, and slipped under the comforter. I hoped this would appease him long enough for him to leave and for me to plan my escape. Instead, he followed me, standing above me.

The sun shone through his white cotton shirt, which was rolled to his mid-forearms, and made it impossible to see his face. He wore a pair of dark denim jeans and a dagger strapped to his waist. A symbolic tattoo with serrated edges graced the skin of his inner forearm, and he was wearing a tooth on a black leather cord around his neck.

"You saved me?"

The question was a bit redundant since he had said as much, but I hoped he would give me more information. Instead, he walked over to lean against the windowsill and gazed outwards, leaving the unscarred half of his face visible. Strangely, he was beautiful in a way I wasn't used to. This side didn't show evidence of a warrior, but the man beneath.

He looked back at me. "We saved you, my brothers and I. Your friend begged Maloc to send someone to look for you, convinced you were still alive. She made quite a few threats until we gave in."

"Friend? You mean, Isis?" He nodded. "Oh, she must have felt me pulling energy from her." Again, he nodded, and silence ensued. "You have brothers?" The prospect of more males like him did not thrill me and didn't bode well if they were all here.