She hadn’t imagined that groan, and if therewas a threat on the other side of the tree, she couldn’t fend offmany immortals if they got their hands on her. Still, she had toknow what was there.
She slid her knife from its holster and heldit before her as she stepped around the tree trunk. Lexi’s handflew to her mouth when she spotted the man on the other side of thetree.
Red covered him, and it took her a minute torealize it wasn’t because his clothes were red. No, torn open andblood-soaked were the best ways to describe what lay beforeher.
Unsure what to do, she stood and gawked forlonger than she should have before reacting. When her feet stoppedsticking to the soft earth, she rushed forward to kneel at hisside.
She reached for him before jerking her handsback. She had no idea what to do or where to touch him thatwouldn’t hurt him more. When he groaned again, his head rolledtoward her, and a pair of narrowed black eyes met hers.
There was no recognition in those eyes, andshe had no idea who he was, but she knew the raven hair, dark eyes,slender build, pointed ears, and ciphers of the dark fae. She hadno idea what he was doing here, but whatever propelled him to seekshelter couldn’t be good.
“They’re coming for me,” he croaked.
“Who’s coming for you?” she asked.
She inspected the jagged slices filleting hisside and chest to the bones beneath. The blood drenching historn-open black shirt caused it to stick to his flesh.
Carefully peeling away the scraps of cloth,she revealed the jagged tears beneath. Alycanhad donethis.
Lexi suppressed the unease churning in herstomach while she inspected the wound. The Lord of the ShadowRealms had unleashed bounty hunters on the remaining rebel army,and with their superior tracking skills, many of those hunters werelycan.
She should get away from this man and flee toher house. She should pretend she’d never seen him or, better yet,turn him in. He was a danger to her and Sahira, but she didn’tmove.
She’d never forgive herself if she turned herback on him or, worse, was the reason his hunters finished whatthey started. Her father had fought against him, but she didn’twant to fight, and she wassotired of all the violence anddeath.
“How many of them are coming?” she asked.
When he didn’t respond, she shifted herattention from his injury to his pale face. Even his lips had lostall their color, and his eyes were closed. Leaning closer, shelistened to his shallow breaths as they rattled in and out.
He was alive, and if she could get himsomewhere safe, he would heal, but if she did that, she’d embroilherself in this mess. She could get Sahira; her aunt would knowwhat to do, but she preferred not to involve Sahira in this.
No matter what, she couldn’t leave him hereto be hunted down and slaughtered. Rising, she made her way to thebranches and pulled a couple back to peer out. Birds flittedthrough the limbs of a nearby maple, and a dog lounged in the sunby the barn, but she didn’t see anyone else.
If she could get him into the storm cellarand the tunnels running beneath the property, he could hide thereuntil he healed.
It might be the worst decision she ever made,she already had enough to deal with, but she lowered the branchesback into place and returned to the man’s side. He didn’t move.
He was completely helpless, and if she didn’tact soon, he would also be completely dead.
Grasping his arm, she draped it around hershoulder and slid her arm around his back. Planting her feet, shelifted him from the ground. He moaned, and his head fell back, butwhen she jostled him, it fell forward until his chin rested againsthis chest.
She may be half human, but at least she hadsome immortal strength, and she dragged him toward the edge of thetree with relative ease. With a shaking hand, she pushed aside theleaves to peer out again.
Across the field of green grass, the manorstood a couple of hundred yards away. Modeled after her dad’schildhood home, the estate looked as if it could have stepped outof eighteenth-century England with its gray stone façade, roundedwindows, and five chimneys.
It was far too large for her and Sahira nowthat most of the workers who once lived there had fled, but shewould never give it up. This was her childhood home, her father hadloved the place, and she adored its many rooms, sweepingstaircases, and fairy-tale appearance.
When she was young, Lexi would imagine shewas a queen ruling her subjects or a ghost roaming the halls as sheslipped from one room to the next. Now, she didn’t pretend anymore,but she hoped that if she ever found someone to love, she would oneday raise her children here too.
That was if she didn’t get caught and killedfor harboring a dark fae who was most likely a fugitive.
“I hope you’re not a complete asshole,” shemuttered before hauling him out from under the leaves and dragginghim across the yard.
The storm cellar was only a hundred yardsaway, but it seemed like a mile as she hurried across the openspace while his feet dragged across the ground. To make mattersworse, it felt like it got farther away with every step she took.When she finally made it to the cellar, she dug into her pocket andpulled out the key.
Her eyes darted around, but she still didn’tsee anyone as she shifted his weight before bending to stick thekey in the lock. Her fingers were surprisingly steady as she turnedthe key.
She slid the key back into her pocket andglanced around again. Only the lazy dog remained in view as shepulled open the doors and dragged him into the shadows. His bootedfeet thudded against the steps as she hauled him into thedarkness.
