AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Silence. Violet’s heartbeat was loud in her own ears. The officiant’s face was a grim mask.
“Very well,” he said, and something else ran through the crowd. The man with the bow stepped forward. “Run to the woods, Violet Page.”
Violet followed his finger where it pointed across the street to the thick mass of trees, then her gaze snapped back to the arrow that was raised and pointing at her.
“What? Why—” She stumbled over her words, as panic, fear, and dread swallowed her. The archer drew back the bowstring.
“Run,” the cleric repeated, and her brain stuttered and balked at the command.
The bow pulled tight, and with it, something inside her snapped. She turned, then she was flying, sprinting, and pumping her arms and legs with survival instinct and self-preservation screaming in her ears.
The arrow felt close, like she could hear it whistling toward her. Some buried part of her brain that had watched too many crime shows reminded her to zigzag to get out of its path. She shot to the left, collided with something hard, and fell, rolling and bouncing along on top of a huge mass that kept her from the worst of the impact.
When she slid to a stop, something warm was around her waist, and the thing underneath her was letting out ragged breaths. She was shaking, hands trembling where they were pressed against a broad chest and a dusty green shirt that looked forebodingly familiar. She looked up. Beneath her on the cobblestones was the man from the woods.
Mikel…Mr. Davis, her mind supplied.
His eyes were steely green in the gray morning light, and he was breathing hard. He looked from her face and off to the side. She followed his gaze to his other hand, and the arrow that was clutched tight in his fist. For three long, silent moments, she just breathed, processed, and understood that she wasalive, and this weird community had tried to kill her.
Mikel recovered first. He nudged her over, and she was more than happy to tumble off him, to sit on the asphalt of the street she’d been crossing when he’d tackled her. Violet shook and struggled to get air into her burning lungs.
A hand slid under her knees and one around her back, then she was hefted again, this time carried bridal style. They were heading back to the square.
“What are you? Put me down,” she demanded and shoved against his chest.
He grabbed one of her hands in his and kept walking. Violet shoved and shoved, thumped him with her fist, yet he didn’t flinch. Her eyes settled on his neck; she’d no sooner thought about it than she’d punched him as hard as she could with her left hand, in his throat.
He wheezed, his hold loosened, and she struggled down. Mikel caught her before she hit the floor, hands a little less kind this time when he pulled her back against him.
“Let me go,” she hissed and spat, clawing at his skin.
The world spun on its axis, and Violet wondered if she was going to be sick. Then, she was hanging, head down, feet locked against his chest, as she was thrown over his shoulder and looking down the back of his jeans while he covered the ground.
“Mikel Davis,” the officiant’s voice said when they finally came to a stop. Violet squirmed, but she was tired, breathless, useless against his strength. “Will you be responsible for this human in her time of transition? Will you shelter and clothe her, protect and teach her, and initiate her into our way of life? Will you shape and claim her, and make her your mate in all sense?”
Violet tried to kick her legs, but he had them held tight. The crowd was quiet, and she could feel their eyes on them.
“I will,” Mikel said, and Violet’s heart dropped.
Something had changed. She understood that from the rush of interest around them, but she didn’t know what.
“Then let it be,” the officiant said. “From this day and every night forth, under the moon’s pale light, Violet Page shall be claimed by Mikel Davis, son of Elias, stars rest his soul.”
Chapter Two
“SHOWER,” HE SAID, when he flipped her down, right side up onto the edge of a large bed.
Violet was still dizzy from being bounced upside down while he’d walked her through streets, back out into the woods, then here.
She blinked up at him. The house was warm, the bedroom clean if minimalistic. He watched her carefully, green eyes narrowed like he didn’t expect her to follow the command. Something inside her took that as a challenge.
“No. How about you tell me whatthe fuckthat was, where I am, and why they—they shot an arrow at me?”
He met her growing anger with cool indifference that only served to make her fume. He’d seemed big in the forest, and he seemed more so here, wide chested with arms that burst from the sleeves of his shirt, hard cut and thick muscled. With his blue jeans, boots, and dark, slightly curly hair, he looked sonormal, if normal was on steroids.
“Take a shower, then sleep,” he said again, no question in the words. “You’re tired.”
“And you’re a psycho,” Violet spat back, struggling to her feet. “You can’t just kidnap a person. What the fuck is wrong with this town? Where am I?” Her demands barely moved him; he seemed impervious to them, solid like a wall with his arms hanging loosely at his sides while he watched her rail.
