Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 32902 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 165(@200wpm)___ 132(@250wpm)___ 110(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32902 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 165(@200wpm)___ 132(@250wpm)___ 110(@300wpm)
He pushed the cup to her again, and she shook her head, not taking her eyes off of him.
“I said I’m not thirsty. Why won’t you answer me?” She was speaking in Norwegian now, hoping this man, this beast of a male, wouldn’t just stare at her like he was possibly thinking about how warm her skin would be during the winter months.
“Dua manki drekka, konna mae,” he said in a hoarse, slightly scratchy voice. He wasn’t speaking a dialect of Norwegian she knew, and although she had no clue what he said, she did recognize one of the words.
Wife. Why in the hell had he called her wife? Was this a joke? She looked around, went to stand because she needed out of here, but he shoved the horn cup in her face.
“Dua manki drekka.” He reached out, gently but firmly grabbed her uninjured arm, and pulled her closer. “Konna, drekka.” He put the rim of the cup at her mouth, tilted it back, and poured the contents into her mouth.
She sputtered but realized it was just water. Either way, she wasn’t about to swallow it. Agata wasn’t going to stay here either. With her head still aching, her arm throbbing painfully, she managed to muster up her strength and pushed past the hulk of a man.
He was either taken off guard by her sudden movements, or he wasn’t worried about her getting away, because he moved far too easily.
She hurried through the small hut toward the front entrance and glanced over her shoulder to see him watching her. She was frozen for a moment, not knowing why she wasn’t escaping right now while he stood still.
But the way he watched her, with hooded eyes and this fierce determination in his expression, had fear and coldness moving through her. This man was dangerous—that was for sure.
Agata pushed open the wooden door, and the chill in the air startled her for a moment. She had no clue where she was. The woods surrounded her on every side, and the sun was just starting to set. She wouldn’t be able to see anything if she ran.
She looked over her shoulder once more, heard the low growl that came from him, and watched as he tossed the cup to the side of the room. Agata took off, not thinking about anything anymore. She felt her lungs burn as she moved through the forest, not knowing where she was going, but not caring.
Getting away was the only important thing right now.
Her legs weren’t injured, but her head was growing more painful by the second, and her arm was tucked right against her chest. She cradled it, unsure how it had gotten hurt in the first place. Agata didn’t care if he had tended to her.
She didn’t know who he was or what he wanted with her, and she didn’t know where she was. It was clear that man wouldn’t be forthcoming with any answers.
She knew she missed her flight. It had been nightfall when she was at the festival, and with the sun just now setting, it had to be at least the following day. Like one of those fools in horror movies, she looked over her shoulder. She couldn’t help it. Agata needed to know where he was and if he was coming after her.
The flash of his blond hair came through a break in the trees. He was running parallel with her, tracking her… hunting her. A soft cry left her at the nightmare she was in now.
The sight of light in the distance had her hopes rising. Was it the small town the festival had been in? She ran harder, pushed herself faster, and knew she needed to get to the tree line.
That way she could yell out for help. The closer she got, the more she felt like everything would be okay, but when she saw the rows of huts, crudely made and not of the twenty-first century, her footsteps stalled slightly.
She fell forward, her foot getting caught in one of the roots, and landed on her injured arm. Crying out in pain, she forced herself to stand up and move forward. She broke through the trees and stepped into the village. God, where in the hell was she?
“Help me!” she cried out, glancing over her shoulder again, and saw the beast barreling toward her. He had no shirt on and wore only those leathers. He looked like a predator, and she was his prey. The way he stalked forward, an ax held in his hand, had her eyes widening and fear and adrenaline pumping through her veins.
She turned and ran into the village a few more steps but faltered when she saw several people stop what they were doing to stare at her. They wore clothing that was not of this time.