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I’ve been distracted for a while, lost in my thoughts as the carriage rocks and sways over the rutted road that leads back to the city. The snow is coming down fast, the fat, fluffy snowflakes falling steadily.
As we bounce over a particularly deep rut, I frown. The road is far from perfect, but that felt a little off.
Beyond the window of the carriage, trees whip past. My frown deepens as I scoot closer to the window. Why are the trees so close? Where on earth are we going?
I pull the window down and peer out. This is not the usual path, which is wider and set away from the tree line. When I glance out the other side of the carriage, I see yet more trees.
The horse is going at an enthusiastic clip that bounces me around in such a way that I’m soon clinging lest I be flung from the seat.
My heart rate elevates. Is it bandits or raiders? Worse, the Blighten? Please let it not be so.
A sense of malaise rises. My prized honey cake slides from the seat and drops to the carriage floor. Outside, snow is already gathering around the bases of trees.
The carriage suddenly swings around in a wide arc, and the old woodcutter’s cottage that has long been abandoned comes into view.
The carriage comes to an abrupt stop, nearly throwing me from the seat. My eyes snap to the window, seeing beyond it to the door of the cottage, where a masked figure stands. I swallow down a scream. Tall, imposing, an alpha for certain, wearing the black and royal blue uniform of our soldiers with shiny black boots. A dagger rests at his right hip, and a sword at his left. It ought to comfort me that he is a man who has been in service, yet everything about this strikes terror into my heart.
My mouth turns dust dry as he strides toward my door.
I fling myself to the other side of the carriage, scrabbling for the door, hearing Lor drop down from the box seat.
Goddess save us! Are they about to fight?
Footsteps approach. Fingers made clumsy with haste, I grapple with the door handle, finally flinging it open as the door behind me opens.
I glance back.
Hands reach for me.
I stumble out and pitch to my knees.
A curse goes up behind me. The coach creaks. I manage a single step before an arm snags my waist. Rich alpha pheromones clog my senses as a wall of firm flesh braces my back.
I scream.
“What the fuck are you doing with her?” That is Lor’s voice, only he sounds more confused than about to run through the bastard who is manhandling me.
I’m not taking any chances. My father taught me a thing or two… I let myself go limp.
“Fuck,” the masked man mutters as, unprepared for my dead weight, I slip through his arms. He comes down over me. Dark blond hair tousled and sprinkled with snow, hazel eyes, and a strong jaw covered in a dark beard. His upper face is hidden behind a black mask.
My chest contracts as his potent pheromones hit me all over again. He seems handsome and young and, for reasons that elude me, this terrifies me even more.
His grin is all teeth as he reaches to pluck me from the ground.
I knee him in the balls.
“Uff!” His grin turns into a grimace, and he crumples to the side.
I have no time to wallow in satisfaction. Scrambling up, I raise my skirts and take off into the snowy forest at a run.
“Gods!” A faint groan comes from behind me. Good, I hope the bastard suffers lasting damage, and if he comes for me, I will kick him again.
Only I don’t get very far before booted steps are gaining. I’m snatched up. I flail and kick out. Lor chuckles before tossing me over his shoulder. He pins my legs tight to his body in a no-nonsense way that denies me the opportunity to kick. I pummel his back, which he steadfastly ignores. His familiar scent is particularly heady in my heightened state.
“What the fuck is wrong with you” —I think Lor is talking to me, until he adds— “that you cannot manage one little girl.”
He’s talking to the other man. The other man whom he appears to know.
