A Love Untamed (Feral Warriors #7)(56)

“He gave me a bracelet made of red moonstones, the only thing known to keep an Ilina from turning to mist. They were covered in tar. I didn’t realize what they were until it was too late.”

“I’m sorry.” His grip on her hand tightened. A small hug, and it warmed her. “Why would he do such a thing?”

“His chief wanted more from me than I would ever willingly give.” The full story was more than she was up for right now with all the memories so fresh, the old wounds raw and bleeding again. Glancing at him, meeting his gaze, she said, “I’ll tell you the rest later. I just can’t right now.”

He squeezed her hand again. “That’s fine, angel. I understand.”

She looked at him again, studied him. “You do understand. You’ve known a woman who suffered the abuse of men, haven’t you? Someone you cared for.”

“My sister. Half sister. I tried to help her, but . . .” He shook his head, old shadows in his eyes.

“They killed her?”

“No. Not directly. She survived the physical assault even though she was mortal. At eighteen she was gang-raped by seven men. Humans.”

“Fox . . . I’m sorry.”

A fierce light lit his eyes. “I killed them all.” His eyes glazed over as if remembering. “It was the mental trauma she couldn’t heal and, as hard as I tried, I couldn’t help her with.” Old anguish wove within the hard fibers of his voice. “I tried, angel. I tried so hard to reach her, to help her understand that it wasn’t her fault. That I’d protect her and wouldn’t let it happen again.” He shook his head. “Less than a year later, she took her own life. I found her hanging in the barn.”

“Oh, Fox. I’m so sorry.” She understood now his incredible care with her once he realized she’d been hurt. And how easily he’d figured it out.

He smiled at her, but it was a sad smile. “You’re so much stronger than she was.”

“I was a lot older when it happened. And immortal.”

“I think if Sheenagh had been able to call up the kind of fury you’ve carried with you, she might have survived, too.”

“Yes, but that kind of fury, and what it demands of you, kills the soul.”

“It didn’t kill yours.”

Inside, she trembled. “I’m not sure about that.”

He released her hand and pulled her close, his arm around her shoulders. “I’m sure.”

Sliding her arm around his waist, she tipped her head against his shoulder. All she’d wanted since Fox first came into her life and she started awakening was to reclaim the fury, the coldness, to go back to the way she’d been. And she might be able to accomplish it. By killing Castin.

But for the first time, she began to realize that she would be giving up as much as she gained. The thought of losing this connection she’d begun to form with Fox cut like a well-honed blade.

A short while later, as they continued down the beach, Fox felt another low vibration. He and Melisande tensed as one, spinning to find more of the blue-faced warriors running toward them.

“There have to be more than two dozen of them,” Melisande gasped.

“That’s our cue to get the hell out of here.” A shiver tore through him, his gut offering up an escape route. He hoped. Into the trees. Now.

He grabbed Melisande’s hand. “Come on!”

Together, they ran for the tree line. Exactly how this would help them, he had no idea. If they ran through the forest and out the other side, what then?

A glance over his shoulder told him that the savages were coming across the sand quickly and fanning out. He and Melisande would have no choice but to go through the tropical forest unless they wanted to fight. And considering the savages’ primary goal appeared to be to strike down Melisande, there was no way in hell they were taking on two dozen of them at once. No way in bloody hell.

As he and Melisande leaped into the trees, they separated, dodging underbrush and fallen limbs and trunks.

“Stop!” Melisande yelled a short distance in front of him, grabbing a tree as if to hold on for dear life.

Fox managed to stop a moment before plowing into her. “What’s the matter?” He grabbed her hand, pulling her back against him.

“Another pit.”

Sure enough, palm fronds lay across the tropical forest floor, obscuring all but one corner of what indeed appeared to be another pit. But as he looked around, he found palm fronds everywhere, most appearing as carefully laid as the one in front of him.

“It’s a minefield,” he muttered. And his gut had led him right to it. He couldn’t even think what that meant, because wasn’t it his gut that had led him down that street in the seaport, right into the path of the vines?

Melisande started forward, and he grabbed her arm. “What are you doing?”

“It’s either this or fight.”

“Okay. You’re right. We go forward.”

This was the reason they were here—to fall into one of these traps just as Castin likely had. To be captured by the Mage, Melisande almost certainly slaughtered.

He wasn’t going to let it happen.

Chapter Thirteen

Melisande’s heart pounded as she stared at the pits hidden beneath the palm fronds all around them. The storm should have sent the fronds flying, unveiling all of the holes. But the magic appeared to have restored them to their original place, if it had ever moved them at all.