Heart of the Fae (The Otherworld #1)(36)

Light speared across the misshapen form. Multiple marks gouged the flesh from his cheeks, forehead, and chin. She might have forgiven a scar, for they suggested heroic deeds. Even a birthmark or disfigurement from childhood could have been easily overlooked. But this?

Open wounds had turned to fissures in the stone of his face. Crystals grew from them, some violet, some precious gems, and a hint of color-changing opal, all crawling from his flesh and tainting whatever humanity he may have once held. They stretched far up the sides of his head, shaved other than a crop of hair at the top.

He might have been a handsome man once. His jaw was square, his lips full, his eyes a piercing blue that stared straight into her soul.

Sorcha gasped as she met his gaze. Ice froze her veins and fear made her teeth chatter. And yet, warmth bloomed deep in her belly. His eyes were beautiful, expressive, and filled with so much pain.

“What happened to you?” she whispered.

He lunged towards her. With a gasp, she threw her hands up to cover her face. She knew that look. Sorcha had grown up in a brothel. The desire to strike a woman was easy to recognize in a man’s expression.

He didn’t hit her. Instead, his hand wrapped around her wrist with a punishing grip. Stone bit into the sensitive flesh, and she whimpered.

“Is this what you wanted to see?” he growled, so close to her face that their noses touched.

“I meant no disrespect!”

He didn’t give her even a moment of respite. He dragged her from the throne room so quickly she slid across the floor until she got her bearings. Only then did she jog to keep up with him.

Sorcha yanked on her arm. “Let me go!”

“No.”

“Let me go, I said!”

“I heard you.” His voice rumbled down the hallway and sent footsteps skittering.

“Where are you taking me?”

“You argue that you cannot leave this cursed isle, then insult me in the next breath. So, princess, I am taking you to your room.”

“Room?” She dug in her heels, forcing him to drag her. “Is there a decent available room in this spider-ridden ruin?”

His fingers squeezed the delicate bones of her wrist, making her gasp in pain. “Are you afraid of spiders?”

“I’m afraid of very little.”

“Good.”

Sorcha winced as his shoulder struck the broken door. No wonder it had cracked nearly in half. The man treated himself like a battering ram rather than a person.

Stones dug into her heels as he yanked her outside, but she refused to yelp. He did not get the satisfaction of knowing the journey was just as painful as his stony grip.

“I can walk without you dragging me!” she shouted.

“I can hear without you screaming.”

He picked up speed and she couldn’t speak anymore. Her breath tasted like blood as her lungs worked overdrive to keep up with him. The straps of her pack dug into her shoulders and arms. Her feet grew numb as the skin scraped off, and still he dragged her towards the opposite end of the isle.

By the time they reached his destination, she was ready to fall over. Dehydration and hunger weakened her mind and body.

He pointed to a small hut in what appeared to be a moor hanging on the edge of the ocean. Mist swirled across the swamp and moss.

“Your new abode,” he growled.

Sorcha forced her eyes to narrow, to take in the details that her mind wanted to ignore. The hut hovered over the water on stilts and stretched out into the bay. Heather grew up to the salty water, crumbling and dying at the edges.

The hut’s image wavered, as though she were looking through hot air. Runes appeared etched into the wooden walls and along the ramp leading to it. She suddenly understood the blinking lights hovering in the air near it.

“That’s a hag’s hut,” she said.

“Astute.”

“Those are incredibly dangerous for anyone who does not practice magic. I cannot stay there.”

“You can, and you will.”

He grabbed her arm again, swinging her around onto the ramp and shoving her shoulders for good measure. He waved a hand in the air. Glimmering light rose from the ground into the sky.

Sorcha lurched forward and hit an invisible wall.

“What did you do?” she croaked as she slammed her fists in the air. “What did you do!”

“I’m keeping you here. Survive, human. Eventually, I might listen to your inquiry.”

He turned and walked away.

Sorcha nearly choked on her own tongue. He walked away? He left her with the most dangerous of evil magics behind her and then just walked away?

“How dare you?” she screamed. “Don’t leave me here! You cannot!”

He could, and he did.

She pressed her hands and forehead against the shield he placed at the edge of the dock and sighed. There was no possible way she would even attempt to stay in that hut.

Sorcha turned and glanced at the runes which kept blinking in and out of sight.

“Think. What are your other options, Sorcha? How you can fix this?”

She scanned the surrounding area, stepping towards the edge of the ramp to peer into the water. White glowing eyes blinked back at her.

“Not the water then,” she murmured. “So…um…”

The runes on the door glowed a bright red, then dulled to rusty aged chicken blood, splattered upon the wood in patterns she faintly recognized.