What Lies Beyond the Veil (Of Flesh & Bone, #1)(32)
I sat up slowly, holding the cloak cinched tight at my neck as my fear spiked. Only the knowledge that quick, hasty movements could make me more likely to be discovered by others kept me from running.
The rugged, dirty hands held out in front of the man who’d spoken seemed massive, cracked with callouses and worn in the way that only hard work could achieve.
Suppressing a shudder as my heart lurched into my throat, I set a hand down in the straw and pushed myself to my feet, ignoring the prickle of each stalk as it sank into my already wounded hands—courtesy of the twilight berry bushes. He gazed at me with dark eyes, peering out from a breathtakingly handsome face surrounded by short ash-blond hair. His bottom lip was thick and lush as he curled his mouth into an appeasing smile, and his frame was tall, shoulders broad enough that I knew I didn’t want him getting anywhere near me.
My breath caught.
His tall body was packed with the kind of muscle I wouldn’t stand a chance of escaping once he caught me. “I don’t want any trouble,” I said, swallowing past the icy dread working its way through my body.
“No trouble,” he agreed, nodding his head. I raked my eyes over his face, feeling small even on the other side of the barn, as he seemed to be nearly a foot taller than me. I pursed my lips as I glanced toward the door where we’d come in. It was the sole exit, and the stranger followed the path of my gaze with dark eyes that seemed to track everything.
“There’s no need for that, Little One,” he said, the deep chuckle of his voice resonating through the air. It struck me in the chest, drawing my eyes back to his and that intense too-dark stare. “I promise I have no interest in hurting you.”
He reached into the pocket of his cloak, and I did the only logical thing, when presented with a man who radiated a predatory grace that would mean the end of me.
I spun, sprinting for the door at the side of the barn.
“Fuck,” the man grunted, abandoning whatever he’d been reaching for in his cloak to chase me. His long legs ate up the distance between us quickly, closing in before I ever got close to the barn door. I couldn’t scream for help, not when doing so would mean people discovering me, and the potential fallout could mean taking a sword to the heart or unintentionally slaughtering an entire village full of innocent people.
A strong arm wrapped around my waist, yanking me back into a very male body as the other hand covered my mouth. His skin against my face smelled of the first frost of the season, as if he’d been clearing ice away from the flora in a garden to preserve the plants just a bit longer. “Shh,” he murmured softly, the spearmint of his breath caressing my cheek.
I thrashed in his grip as he lifted me off my feet easily, twisting my body from side to side and kicking my legs frantically. His hand slipped while he carried me further into the barn as if I weighed nothing, and the tips of his fingers pressed against the seam of my lips.
I bit down with all the strength in my jaw, not relenting when the coppery-sweet taste of blood filled my mouth. When any normal person would have shouted, or at least tried to get me to release his appendage from the vice-like grip of my teeth, he only chuckled in my ear and dragged me back to the pile of straw where I’d thought to relax.
“Careful, love. I just might like that.”
I mumbled against his skin, wincing when he tore his finger free without care for the way my bite tore his flesh open further. My teeth clamped together, the vibration of the impact radiating through my jaw. “Put me down!” I said furiously, my voice carrying through the otherwise empty barn.
He didn’t relent, giving me no choice but to fight against the threat I didn’t understand. He didn’t want me dead, not yet at least, but he also wasn’t letting me go free. In the world I lived in, especially with the Fae on the loose, the unknown was something to be feared.
I slammed my head back, aiming straight to take out his nose. He moved with lightning-quick reflexes, narrowly avoiding the strike that would have broken his pretty face. In doing so, his grip on me finally loosened enough for me to slip through.
I spun, moving with all the adrenaline coursing through my veins and snatching the dagger from the sheath on his belt. Twisting it in my hands the way Loris had taught me and ignoring the pang of guilt I felt over my lover’s death, I leaned into the thrust that pressed the sharp edge of his blade at his neck.
He blinked down at me in surprise, his features darkening, but he made no move to step away from the threat. He held my gaze, his body still and his breathing steady while I panted for breath and tried to fight my rising panic.
Why wasn’t he afraid?
He stepped closer, pushing the edge of the blade into his skin until little red droplets ran down his throat. He smirked as I bled him, that arrogant look broadening into a full-fledged grin when I didn’t back down and held my stance. “You’re a vicious one, aren’t you?” he asked, running his tongue over the top of his perfect bottom teeth.
“Only when it comes to pushy men who seem to think they have the right to touch me,” I snapped, leaning further into the knife against his throat.
“Fair enough,” he murmured thoughtfully, moving so quickly I didn’t have time to track what happened. His hand raised, shoving my elbow until the dagger slid across his throat, leaving a thin slash. Once it was clear of his throat, he disarmed me with the speed and grace of a professional, twisting the blade out of my hand and into his, until he threw it into the wood floor at our feet.