ABBY
My temples throb as I come to, each movement of my head beyond painful.
I remember immediately the events that led up to me being knocked out, and despite the overwhelming urge to open my eyes and jump out of the arms of the person currently carrying me, I remain still. It's hard to do, but I need a second to collect my thoughts before facing Kieran and Mason.
I assume one of them is currently carrying me.
There's a rhythmic jostling, and although it's fairly light, each movement still hurts. Mason hit me hard, and I'll be surprised if I don't have a minor concussion. I've never had one before and didn't bother looking up the symptoms before coming here, which I now regret.
I doubt concussions are an issue the faeries and shifters deal with frequently, and they probably have no experience with them. If I have one, and if it's severe, I'm probably already as good as dead.
The fact that I'm awake right now is hopefully a good sign.
I work to keep my breathing steady, not wanting to give away that I'm no longer unconscious, as I focus and try to take in my surroundings.
I'm being carried bridal style, with one arm underneath my knees and another under my back. My right arm dangles to my side, and my left is pinned between my chest and the torso of the person carrying me. It's uncomfortable, but my cheek pressing against a warm chest is the worst part.
It feels too intimate.
The shirt I'm resting against is soft, not causing any pain. The skin of my cheeks was rubbed raw when I was pushed into the dirt, but I still wish whoever picked me up had let my lead lull back instead of to the side. I'd rather wake up with a sore neck than smushed against a stranger's chest.
My head moves as the person inhales and returns to its neutral position as he exhales a second later. I can hear his heartbeat, and it's surprisingly slow. The faeries and shifters are strong, but I still thought carrying a full-grown adult through the woods would cause at least a little uptick in heart rate.
I don't know how to feel about the fact that it doesn't.
There's no light behind my eyelids, and crickets and bugs are chirping away in the surrounding woods, so I assume it's still nighttime.
How long was I out for?
My sweatshirt pulls against my torso, and something crinkles beneath my left elbow. It feels like a bandage, which I know for sure wasn't there before. The pair must have done something to me while I was unconscious.
Mason commented on my bleeding before knocking me out, and Kieran asked to see my bloody knees.
My knees.
I break out into a cold sweat as I realize there's a breeze on my legs. My leggings are tight, and I can still feel the stretchy fabric around my waist and thighs, but there's nothing below my mid-thigh.
The same scratchy, crinkling on my left elbow is also on both my knees.
Disgust boils inside me at the thought of these two touching me while I was unconscious—even if it was to bandage me up. I'd rather be bleeding and achy.
Something loud chirps directly to my left, and I instinctively jolt.
My entire body stiffens, and I immediately know I'm caught as the chest I'm resting against stops moving mid-breath. It pauses momentarily before continuing, but the slight break is enough. Whoever is carrying me knows I'm awake.
Shit.
I hold back the urge to vomit as I open my eyes and look to see who's carrying me.
Kieran's piercing purple eyes are already staring down at me, the sight jarring. His expression lacks all emotion, which only furthers my anxiety. I don't trust it, not one bit, and I wiggle in his arms in a clear and desperate attempt to be put down.
"If you try and run, Mace will chase you," Kieran warns.
I hear the threat behind those words loud and clear, and my hair whips around my head as I spin in search of the shifter. I don't want him out of my sight.
Mason's standing a few feet ahead of us, leaning against a tree as he waits for Kieran to put me down. The second my feet are planted on the ground, I scurry several steps away.
I don't want to be too close to either of these men.
"We bandaged your knees and elbow." Kieran speaks as if all of this is perfectly normal. "And you woke up just in time to go back to sleep. We'll be setting up camp in about an hour."
It's still dark, but I can see the beginnings of sunrise through the trees. I suppose it's good to know the pair do intend to sleep, even if it's during the day. I want to know why, but I won't be spouting off questions until I have a better idea of what's happening here.
I'm panicked, and I don't want to say something I shouldn't.
Slowly, I bring my arm in front of myself and check my elbow. My gloves are still in place, and I slowly roll up my sweatshirt sleeve to get a better look at my skin. A white bandage appears about halfway down my forearm, continuing until just above my elbow.
It's too dark to get a good look, but I can tell the bandage isn't from my first aid kit.
Kieran and Mason must have used their own.
That's good. I'm trying to save my items, and I want to use up theirs first. If and when I sneak away from the pair, I'd like to have my complete kit with me.
I roll my sleeve back down my arm before peering at my legs. My once-long leggings have been cut just above my knees, essentially turning them into uneven bike shorts. I don't like knowing these two saw my bare legs, even if there's no evidence of foul play.
I don't trust them.
Both my knees are wrapped with the same bandage that's been put on my elbow, and I scrunch up my face as I give my knees a tentative bend. Neither hurt as much as they should, so I assume the pair put some sort of magical ointment on them.
Whenever something feels unnatural, I remind myself this world is full of magic and that's probably the cause.
Mason shifts, and I snap my attention back to him. He pushes off the tree he leans against and turns his back to me, seemingly done watching my self-evaluation. The image of him as that giant animal is permanently burned into my brain, and even as I stare at his broad shoulders and lean waist, all I see are snarling teeth and a giant animal frame.
I've seen hundreds of depictions of shifters in movies and TV shows over the years, but it's nothing compared to the real thing. Seeing it on the screen doesn't do justice to the horror of having the deadly predator only inches from your face.
I never want to see it again.
My breath feels impossibly loud, borderline hyperventilating, and I place a hand on my chest as I work to calm myself. It's too easy to panic right now, and I need to keep a level head.
"Let's keep walking," Kieran says, breaking the silence.
Mason doesn't need to be told twice as he storms ahead, his steps unnervingly silent despite how loud they look.
I don't move, and my hesitation is noticed.
Kieran stares at me, his body too close for comfort while he waits for me to begin walking. I wonder what he'll do if I don't—probably send Mason after me. I was curious why he chose to break tradition and bring his shifter friend along with him, but now that I've seen what his shifter friend turns into, I'm no longer surprised.
He's a guard dog.
"Walk, Abby," Kieran orders.
I don't like the way he says my name. He speaks like he owns me, and while that might be common for his world, it isn't for mine. I wonder if faerie royals have a reputation for kidnapping people.
I'm not sure what else to call this.
Kieran and Mason are forcing me to travel with them, apparently to give me to some god. I still struggle to wrap my mind around that particular fact, and it doesn't feel real. None of this does, and a part of me is waiting to wake up and realize this is nothing more than a horrid nightmare.
Kieran crosses his arms over his chest, his cold gaze calculating.
Despite what my instincts scream for me to do, I turn and follow Mason. I don't want to go with them—in fact, it's arguably the last thing I want to do, but I need time to observe and plan before trying to run again.
I don't trust these men, and I'm afraid if I put up too much of a struggle too soon, they'll tie me up or something equally as constricting. They, especially Kieran, are probably used to people doing whatever they want, but the title of prince means little to me.
I have an agenda of my own, and the top thing is to avoid being given to some mysterious god. Number two is to escape the pair and never see them again.
"Where's my backpack?" I ask.
It's got my knife in it.
Kieran shrugs something off his shoulder, drawing attention to my backpack currently slung over it. He tosses it in my direction, and I jump forward to catch the strap before it hits the ground. It looks untouched from a quick glance, but I'm doubtful that's the case.
I'm sure they were tearing through it the moment I passed out.
One of them bandaged me up, destroying my expensive leggings in the process, and the other went through my things. I bet Mason's the one who went through it, and he probably took my knife out.
Asshole.
I slide my backpack up my arms, continuing to glance between Mason and Kieran, before beginning to follow the shifter. Kieran moves out of the corner of my eye, positioning himself behind me.
Having him out of my sight is unnerving, but I doubt I can do anything about it. They probably want to keep me in their sights just as much as I want to do the same to them.
The pair move silently, and all I can hear are my footsteps. Twigs and leaves crunch under my shoes, the sound loud in the otherwise quiet forest.
Despite the tight bandages on my knees, I quickly learn they still hurt to move. It's not as bad as I expected, but there's a slight twinge each time I place my foot on the ground. I didn't get a good look at them before being knocked out, but I'm sure the sight wasn't pretty.
I landed on them quite hard, and I could feel the blood soaking through the fabric of my leggings even before Mason pinned me to the ground.
They're going to take a while to heal.
The sky gradually grows lighter as we walk, the sunrise slow but steady. I can't remember the last time I pulled an all-nighter, but my body sure isn't reacting to it as smoothly as it did when I was a young teenager.
Exhaustion pulls at me, making me sluggish despite my need to keep a sharp mind. My many injuries and the fact that I've been moving all night probably don't help.
I'm not sure how long I was passed out, but I don't think it was long.
At least, I hope not. I don't like the idea of having been so vulnerable in Kieran's arms for any extended period of time.
I wish they'd have just left me to die, and I doubt any gods will want me. Humans are low on the totem pole, and if the gods like us so much, I'm sure it's easy for them to collect us. I'm not anything special, and they'll quickly learn that.
"My feet hurt," I complain.
Maybe the pair will let me go if I prove to be too much of a hassle.
"Too bad," Kieran says. "Either you walk, or I'll drag you by the straps of your bag."
I doubt they'd do that after all the care they took to bandage up my wounds. Mason's animal form resembles a wolf, and they have an incredible sense of smell. If they're trying to avoid the shifters that live in the woods, they probably don't want me leaving a blood trail to be followed.
Still, despite my suspicions, I continue walking.
My feet really do hurt, but it's nothing I can't handle.
"We'll stop soon to rest," Kieran sighs. "Mason's searching for a spot without a heavy shifter scent."
So he does have an incredible sense of smell. How long was he aware I was following him and Kieran? Did they purposefully wait until we were so deep into the woods that there was little to no hope of me escaping?
My blood boils, and I glare at the back of Mason's head.
Everybody talks about the prince and Mason with so much respect, but now I realize it was inflated. All the faeries I've met have been kind, but clearly these two were raised with giant, royal sticks shoved so far up their asses that they have no sense of decency or respect.
I'm unsurprised.
They're the human equivalent of a stereotypical rich frat boy.
And I'm, at least for now, trapped with them.
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Abby's a drama queen I love her so much
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