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“Our roles change here,” I reminded her. “It’s no longer my head we have to worry about if we’re caught by the wrong party.” Not that we’d had to worry too much about me with nothing but sand surrounding us. No one roamed the Vast Desert. And in the last five days of travel, we hadn’t crossed paths with anyone else, save the scorpions.
That wouldn’t be the case in Far Shore. This kingdom was congested with farms, settlements, heavily traveled roads, and woodcutters clearing trees for more thoroughfares. We’d bump into a new group of people every five steps.
“The first thing we need to do is hide that tattoo.” I checked it, just to see how much work hiding it was going to take, only to suck in a labored breath, because damn, she looked good in those silk scarves draping her.
“And then we’ll have to change you into something that doesn’t make you look like such a sand princess,” I added. But heaven help me, I was going to miss all that skin when we covered it up.
Nicolette grinned and rolled her eyes. “But I am a sand princess.”
“Not here you’re not,” I warned. “Say goodbye to your sand and heat now, my lady, because I’m about to introduce you to something you’ve never experienced before. The cold.”
Her expression lit. “Will there be snow? I’ve always wanted to touch snow!”
I shook my head. The girl should be fearing her life right now, and all she could think about was the idea of touching snow? How could anyone not be completely charmed by such a creature?
“It’s the wrong time of year for snow, but the nights will get chilly. You’ll have to bundle up.”
Batting her eyelashes at me, she said, “Or we could share body heat.”
I sent her a side-eyed glance that held barely the hint of a smile. “Behave, princess.”
She leaned toward me, huskily taunting, “Or what?”
Arousal pounded through my system as I imagined all the or-whats I could do. I smirked, feeling arrogant and good. “Or I’ll—oomph.”
Sharp, sudden pain lanced my left shoulder and spiked its way down my arm until it exploded out the tips of my fingers before abruptly going numb.
Nicolette screamed.
No longer in the mood to flirt or do anything but curl into a ball and howl in agony, I tried to inspect the paralyzing intrusion that had punctured me, but when I looked down, my vision darkened at the corners. Dizziness ensued. My conscious brain flickered.
“Ah, fuck,” I muttered when I finally caught sight of the long, thin shaft with a feathered end sticking out of my shoulder, right in the front tender, meaty area under my clavicle, in that empty space the rib cage didn’t cover.
Someone had shot me. With a fucking arrow.
“Farrow!” was the last word I heard shouted before I tipped sideways off Mint and plummeted toward the ground.
14
Nicolette
Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod!
An arrow was sticking out of Farrow’s chest, near his left shoulder, just under the collarbone.
“Farrow!” I screamed, leaping off Caramel so I could race toward him when he slumped off Mint and landed lifelessly on the ground.
When something whizzed past my ear, the wind from its passage dusting my cheek, I realized more arrows were pursuing us.
“Bloody bastards,” I hissed, ducking my face and falling to my knees to make myself a harder target to hit.
But who the devil would be shooting at us before even finding out if we were threatening or not?
Ire beginning to rise over the entire situation, I crawled frantically toward my wounded mate, who was lying supine and gasping as he clutched his arrow’s shaft only for his fingers to fall back limply to his side as if he’d passed out.
“Farrow?” I whispered, hovering above him and barely making out his features in the early morning light.
Seriously, who could even see well enough to aim bows and arrows at this time of day? If I found out the idiots were merely hunting and had mistaken us for lunch, I was going to cut a fool.
