There were many things going in Isabella's mind -though that was not a surprise-. For once, she was trying to recall as many details from her soothing dreams as possible –which she was also failing miserably at-; she was trying not to think about the pain in her inner thighs due to riding her horse for hours and days; she was thinking about the possibility of discovering people from her world as they went from one place to the other; and she was trying, desperately, not to think of Rowan.
Rowan. Rowan. Rowan.
It was unnecessary to clarify that she was absolutely, and utterly failing at that, too.
She wished with almost all her being there was a way to forget the sensation of his big, strong hands on her arms burning her, the uproar that had raised within herself -something she had never experienced before- at the heat that had come from his own body; and had agitated her so strongly that she had felt like a candle set on fire, burning only for him; she desired to forget the gentleness of his grip on her, and the way she had felt nothing close to fear; she wanted to erase the memories of how it his presence had felt all around her, charming her, dazing her, until she could not form a coherent thought, for her mind was tangled only in Rowan; she hoped to forget his pine-green eyes filled with lust as he muttered something under his breath and gazed at her as if she were the most beautiful female he had ever seen, his eyes reflecting the same emotions in hers; but most of all, she craved to forget the way he had saved her, the way he had stayed by her side –twice already- and helped her find her way back to the real world through her panicked thoughts, and the way he had sounded, and looked utterly, and profoundly worried about her.
Isabella felt the rising heat on her neck and cheeks, she was blushing by the mere memory of their interaction. She eyed Rowan from the corner of her eye, he was running, all of them were, and there was a light layer of sweat covering his temple, his complexion shining in the sun due to it. He looked wholly surreal. He looked like a mythical thing, like something her mortal eyes should not be able to see; and yet she could do nothing to not look away. The sight of him was mesmerizing. She hated him.
He also appeared to be completely oblivious, and absolutely unaffected by their earlier encounter. She hated him even more for it. He must have known what he was doing, he must have known the effect he had on her –even if she did not wish it-, he must have done it just to play with her, just to distract her so she would not decide to run away from them. Even if she had not been doing that.
Perhaps it was all just a plan of his, to seduce her into his arms and for her to give him her own shabby heart so she would not wish to depart from them, at least as long as she was necessary for their mission.
Isabella felt instantly disgusted by the idea. She felt used, and insignificant.
She wished it were not true, she wished she could convince herself that Rowan and the rest would never go to such immoral lengths, but the truth was that she could not, because she did not know them. She did not know who these four males around her were, she knew their names and faces, she could think of facts and memories attached to them, but none of that was real. They were all their own people, who she did not know, not really.
What did she know? That Fenrys was talkative and a diva? That Lorcan was silent and a goth? That Gavriel looked kind and approachable but he was only that when it suited him? Or that Rowan was the king of jerks?
Isabella contained the tired sight threatening to erupt from her by her force of will. She wanted to rub her eyes with the palm of her hands, and rest. She was tired, so, so tired. Not just physically, but emotionally. She was tired of trying to be respected, she was tired of trying to decipher the real version of the book characters she loved, she was tired of her nightmares, and she was tired of walking stray only to be more and more lost with every step she took.
She tried to pretend that she was fine. She blanked her expression from any kind of feeling, she pretended not to be bothered by the heat of the sun on her skin, or the imminent pain of her body. She wanted to tell them to stop, to tell them that she needed to rest -that she knew they had finally slept on a bed after days the night before but she was still feeling unwell- but she could not do any of those things. If she did, she would be nothing more than a dead weight. And what did people do with dead weights? They got rid of them.
So Isabella kept her mouth shut, and galloped rapidly with her horse while the four fae males around her ran as fast as the animal she was riding could. They moved until the sun was high in the sky, and the sound of running water became clearly audible to her.
Gavriel stopped in front of her, his back to her front, and lifted a hand to gesture to the others to stop as well. Once they were all still in their places, the male turned and began unstrapping his belt with weapons.
"We will stay here to eat lunch and rest for a bit" He announced, and Isabella thanked the heavens for it. "Rowan and Fenrys will go hunting, I'll make the fire, and Lorcan will set the tent ready in case of an emergency¨ He ordered and, as usual, did not give her any order or acknowledge that she could be of help. But, for once, she was glad. Her body was aching painfully, and she did not think she had enough strength to help and keep riding later on.
While she desmounted her horse, two sets of flashing lights caught her attention. She turned her head just in time to see Rowan and Fenrys shifting into their animal forms and walking -and in Rowan' case, flying- deep into the woods. During their first nights out, they had survived without hunting, and eaten dried meat and stone bread. Now, however, they had run out of supplies, which meant they had to do their own hunting and cooking.
In reality, it did not bother Isabella to hunt because they never asked her to do anything. They gave her food and expected her to take care of her own belongings, but apart from that, it was almost as if they did not remember she had a pair of hands that could be of help. She had no knowledge whatsoever about hunting, but she had two eyes and a determined mind; she could be of help if they gave her the chance.
The problem was they never did.
During the first days of their journey, she had asked countless times if she could do anything or help in any way, but after Lorcan had growled at her and told her she was too slow to be of anything but a bother, she had prevented herself from offering.
So Isabella sat on a nearby rock and rested her legs. She tried to massage them the best way she could, and drink water from her canteen. She saw and heard as Gavriel collected dried tree branches and began positioning them in a circle. Close to him was Lorcan, making a tent with an efficiency she could only dream of. She contained a sigh as the sparkles of fire lighted the branches and a tent stood high and straight in its place.
Rowan and Fenrys came back minutes later, the latter carrying two dead foxes with its mouth. Lorcan took off the animals' skin and cut their meat into different pieces to be cooked more easily. Gavriel was the official cook of the group, so he was the one to put the meat over the fire and see over it as well.
They ate mostly in silence, interrupted only by Fenrys' talk about the weather and his dirty nails. The food tasted like nothing in Isabella's mouth, but food was a luxury, so she ate her whole portion with no protest.
After she was done, she stood up while the males kept eating and debated if she should ask what she had thought about before. She did. "Should I refill our cateens with water?" She asked them, "The river sounds close, and I have already emptied my canteen"
Lorcan did not answer her, he did not even look at her, he was too focused on his food. Rowan only shot her a quick look before returning his gaze to the meat in his hands while Fenrys nodded at her. It was Gavriel, though, who answered her.
"Sure, you can go. The river is only a few strides from here"
She nodded, and grabbed everyone's canteen. She truly only had to walk a few steps to find the river. Despite her tiredness and swollen body, Isabella smiled at the sight of the transparent water. The forest had high, green trees, and the grass looked healthy as its bright green color was showered in sunlight. She crouched to refill the water bottles, and even cleaned her hands in the process. She leaned over to drop some water on her neck, but stopped short after seeing her reflection.
Her lips were dry, and sickly pale. She had dark bags under her eyes, and even though she was sure she had regained some weight since she had been found by the faes, her cheeks were still too thin for her liking. She looked hollow and ill. Perhaps she was. She felt terrible, it was only natural that her exterior would match the state of her insides. She looked down at her bony hands, which had once had a healthy shine, and shook the water with them. She hated her reflection.
The scars were not enough reminder of everything she had endured, but her whole body was. She wondered if she would ever be able to get herself back.
She doubted it.
She shook her head, trying to shake the dark thoughts with the movement, and bent over to splash some water on her face and neck. She could feel the drops of water running down her collarbone when a rustling sound startled her. Her head snapped back to where she thought the sound had come from, trying to decipher what it was, but she saw nothing. She told herself to calm down, but hurried as she stood up and picked up the filled canteens in her arms. When she turned in her heels to walk back to the four males, she was unable to contain the high, terrified scream that left her mouth as she saw the creature standing in front of her.
The creature -a thing with a humanoid body covered with a sticky gray skin and a face with no eyes or nose, only a huge, thin line with sharp teeth as a mouth- hissed in a sound that was almost a laugh at her scream. It walked over to her, with its clawed hands dripping with a stinky mungus, and grabbed her by the arm. She dropped the canteens with the force of the creature, and was stopped from screaming for help as the creature covered her mouth with one of its hands.
It brought its trail of teeth close to her ear, and Isabella gagged as its horrendous scent hitted her nostrils. The creature nuzzled its head on her hair, and hissed again. "Strange" it said, the words more guttural than anything she had heard before.
"Let me go" She was able to say while she tried to get free of its grip. But the demon was strong, stronger than anything she had met before, and it only needed a hand to keep her in her place.
"So strange" It fizzled, nuzzling its head harder on her hair. It was smelling her scent. "Such a strange scent. It is so delicious" It told her, and nipped at the space between her shoulder and neck, hard. Isabella let out a shriek of pain, and she felt her hot blood running down her body from the place the creature had bit her. It was a pain like nothing she had ever felt. It was fire running down her veins, killing everything in its place, it was lighting burning her from the inside, it was water drowning her; it was only pain. Again.
Isabella felt her body weakening as the thing kept its teeth on her, biting and sucking with so much force that there would be a bruise later. She felt her legs going numb, and she did not fall on the grass only because of its grip keeping her up. She tried with all of her force to move away from it, to scream for help, to do something to get away from such a horrendous creature, from such agonizing pain. She couldn't.
She could feel the slow rhythm of her heartbeat, the blood staining her clothes, and was able to recognize that she was close to losing consciousness. She was helpless once again, perhaps she had never stopped. She wanted to scream and to run. She wanted to tell the creature to kill her faster if it meant no more pain. She wondered if she would see her family again once there was nothing else from her but her soul.
The creature sucked harder, and Isabella's eyes fell shut just as a heavy sound of footsteps coming closer was the last thing she heard.
-
Rowan's hands were in fists as he saw Gavriel leaning over the unconscious body of Isabella. Rowan himself had drained his magic trying to heal her, so now it was Gavriel's turn. His friend wore a frown on his face as his glowing hands pressed harder over the serious wound close to her shoulder.
He had found her with that unknown creature's teeth on her, and Rowan had only seen red at that sight. Fury like nothing he had ever experienced before burning his veins. He had ended that creature's life mercilessly, and when he had glanced at Isabella -her clothes full of her blood, her complexion so thin and pale- he had rushed to try to feel her pulse. He'd let out the loudest sigh of relief when a slow, weak heartbeat pounded against his fingertips. After that, he had carried her in his arms far away from the river, not caring if the others were following him, and laid her body on the grass. He had used every drop of his magic on her, trying to heal her, but whatever that thing was, it was clearly poisonous.
When Rowan's vision had turned blurry, and his head dizzy, Gavriel had stepped in. His friend had laid a strong hand on his shoulder, and pushed him gently -but also firmly- away from Isabella's body, breaking the connection of his magic with her wounded body. She had gotten away without a scratch apart from the biting in her neck. Rowan had seen those creatures' teeth, and to even think that one of them had dared to sink their appalling fangs on her...It made his heart contract in his chest, and his blood run cold.
He had eyed her one last time before Gavriel ordered him -not just as his general, but as his friend and brother- to get some rest. The wound on her neck was swollen, and it had already begun to acquire a wide range of shades of the colors purple and black. But the worst of it all, was the fact that no matter how much magic and will Rowan focused on pouring into her, the wound never closed; and with each passing minute that Isabella did not wake up, with each passing minute that her complexion turned paler, it reminded Rowan more of a corpse than a person.
Rowan had agreed, only because he knew he had no more magic left to help her, and left the tent Lorcan had prepared earlier in case of an emergency. How he wished there had been no use for it, now.
As soon as he had stepped out, he had walked close to the fire where Lorcan had been cooking dinner, and thrown himself close to the male.
And that's where he had stayed for the last half an hour -not that he was counting- and where he still was.
Lorcan passed him a burnt fish on a stick, and Rowan accepted only because he knew he was weak and needed the food to recover and keep trying to heal her.
"You are silent" Lorcan said to him after his third burnt fish.
He eyed his friend, noticing that just like him -and the rest- he had no wounds. They had been attacked by ten of those creatures, and Rowan had thought they were doing great at destroying them until he felt a pain on his own neck. Until a piercing pain had made him falter his steps and realize that Isabella was not with them.
"I thought you preferred it when people kept their mouths shut" Rowan told him.
Lorcan made a low, guttural noise that he recognized as a snort. "I do, but not this silence"
Rowan played dumb. "I don't know what you mean"
"Fuck you do"
He shrugged, "It's just silence"
Lorcan rolled his eyes, "And I'm a mermaid" He said, sarcastically.
"What an ugly mermaid you are"
The male who Rowan had known for more than half his life clenched his jaw, "I'm not going to fight you"
He remained expressionless, "We've fought when I was in worse conditions before and I have already eaten so I-"
"It's not that" Lorcan cut him off. "I'm not going to fight you because I know that's what you want. You are picking a fight, and I'm too full to move right now, anyway"
After eating eight fish, Rowan was not surprised to hear that. "Where is Fenrys when I need him?" He muttered to himself. The mentioned male was the youngest of them all, and arrogant. He always picked fights with others, and he would have been the perfect victim to Rowan's plans.
Lorcan shrugged, "Probably jerking off to his reflection on the lake"
Rowan let out a muffled laugh at the male's intent of a joke. Lorcan was not known for being the most sensible person, but he was not the worst, either. "Probably," He agreed.
More minutes passed in silence, and Rowan tried to test the level of his magic by conjuring a soft wind. When even that simple trick made him wince, he stopped.
The male looked at him from the corner of his eye, "You will get hurt if you keep doing that. Rest."
"Since when are you a mother hen?"
Lorcan looked completely indignant at his comment, "I'm not" He gritted out.
"Then stop getting into things that are none of your business" He told him, harshly. "I know what I'm doing"
"No," Lorcan said, throwing the last stick where his food had been in the fire. "You don't. And I honestly don't get it"
"What do you mean?" He knew what he meant.
"You know what I mean"
"I don't" He did.
The male rolled his eyes, "I mean why are you acting so strange? Ever since that chick -"
"Don't call her that"
Lorcan threw his hands in the air, clearly exasperated. "That's exactly what I'm saying! You've been acting as if someone had shoved a stick up your ass ever since you found that girl in the woods"
Rowan considered, for a split of a second, to confide in one of the few people with whom Rowan had spent most of his life. Lorcan and him had gone on countless missions together, they had fought side by side, bedded women together, laughed and bickered. He had known him for almost three centuries, he trusted him. And yet...he couldn't bring himself to speak a word. Rowan knew Lorcan was right, -even if he had tried his best to hide it-, but he didn't even dare to voice the truth behind his new behavior. He just couldn't.
"What is your problem with her, anyway?" He asked, instead, trying to shift the focus of attention to his friend.
Lorcan blinked. "What?"
Rowan nodded at him, "You could try to at least pretend that you care if the only person from another world we currently know -and the only person that can guide us in this fucked up mission of us- is hurt"
"Why would I pretend if I don't? I don't know that kid, and I certainly don't care about her. Even if she is our only lead"
Rowan clenched his jaw, his hands curling into fists, and breathed deeply through his nose. He had to remind himself that this was his friend so that he wouldn't give him the punch of his lifetime. "Kid? You've fucked plenty of women her age before"
Lorcan nodded, absently. "I have, but I didn't say it because of her age. I meant it because of how she is"
"You don't know her"
"Neither do you"
He didn't. He had known her for very little, and that truth angered him even more. "She's been through things that have..." He started, unsure of what to say. He wanted to defend her, but he didn't really know how. He looked defeatedly down at his hands. "She's not a kid"
Lorcan snorted, "Are you saying that because you want to fuck her or wh-?"
Rowan's head snapped up, and a cold, deadly calmness settled over him. Lorcan saw it in his eyes, recognizing it for what it was, and closed his mouth.
"I didn't mean it as an insult"
He inhaled through his nostrils and exhaled slowly through his mouth. He had to get used to these sharp new feelings, these instincts he had thought dead, if he wanted his friends and him to live a long life. "I know"
Lorcan nodded, and that settled it. The air around them lightened as their shoulders relaxed and the tension around them dissolved.
"I don't think she likes you, anyway"
Rowan eyed his friend, a crease in his brow. He shoved the sudden panic in his chest down, and ignored it. "Do you really think so?" He asked, trying to sound unbothered by the idea. And failing miserably. He had imagined she didn't like him, but to hear it from someone as oblivious to a woman's feelings as Lorcan...
The male snorted, "Of course she doesn't, who would like your ugly face?"
Despite it all, he laughed at his words. The final trace of their earlier -almost- argument completely gone with that joke.
"At least it's prettier than yours"
"Nobody thinks that"
"Everybody thinks that"
Lorcan shoved him by the shoulder, playfully, and they both laughed again. When his friend looked up at the night sky, he whispered. "How is she?"
Rowan swallowed the knot in his throat, "Bad. The wound is not closing, no matter what we do, and she still hasn't woken up"
The male nodded, "We will have to take her to Kilax, then. He's our closest trusted healer"
"If she survives the night" He said, and even though a part of him broke at the words, he knew it was a possibility. One he dreaded, but one after all. And he had learned a long time ago that when it came to death, one had to accept it as soon as possible.
"She will"
At that, Rowan looked at his friend -who still refused to look him in the eye and instead gazed up at the stars-, surprised. He had not expected that from him.
Lorcan must have sensed the burning questions twirling inside of him, for he answered. "We have trained plenty of idiots before to recognize a real fighter. She's one. She'll survive"
"And here I was, thinking you were mad at her"
Finally, the male averted his gaze from the sky and looked at Rowan, a confused frown on his face. "Why?"
"For the drawing she made of you"
Lorcan snorted, "It didn't make me justice"
"At least she made you very muscular"
His friend ignored him, and leaned down to sleep. Rowan did the same, and after being too restless to sleep, he stood up and walked back to the tent.
I don't need to rest, he thought to himself, I'm Rowan Whitethorn. I know my limits. At the same time that he said to another part of himself, I just feel responsible for her. I just want to make sure Gavriel doesn't need anything.
Rowan nodded to himself and entered the tent, ignoring the whispers in his heart that told him that those were all lies.