Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 47068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
"Once, they were men. Now, they're more like hellhounds," Reaper says, his tone grim. "A bite by one is fatal, even to a Fae."
"Werewolves. You're talking about werewolves?" Why does my voice sound like that?
"Nei, Rissa. Werewolves retain some semblance of their humanity, even when they turn. A varulv lost his long ago. He's more wolf than man, and more demon than wolf. He was born of the dark, created by the dark magic the Forsaken used to turn him. The dark is all he knows now."
Oh, my God.
"We have to go back," I whisper. "Abigail and the Blooded…" There are countless dozens of people at Eitr, people who will need Dax and his brothers if the varulv find the town.
"It's too late to go back. If we try, we lead them right to the gates. All we can do is go forward and pray we stay out of their path," Malachi says. "Hold on to something. It's going to get bumpy."
For the next half hour, we creep through the dark, the forest pressing in on us from all sides. I don't know if the Fae can see anything in the dark, but I can't. Malachi has the headlights off to keep our position hidden. Trees loom up out of nowhere, their branches scraping like fingers along the sides of the truck.
Howls split apart the dark, bouncing back from the mountainside in eerie, distorted echoes that send chills up and down my spine. No one says a word. The walkie talkie remains silent. Whatever's happening in the valley below happens in silence.
Are the Fae still alive?
Have the varulv found the Eitr?
The truck crawls to a stop, Malachi muttering a curse. "We're going to have to melt ice if we're going to cross here."
"I'll do it," Reaper says. "Just keep the jävla helveteshundar off me if they show up."
"Ja," Dax says softly. "We will." He turns to me, cupping my cheek in his palm. "I need you to stay in the truck, bittesmå ljós. I must help Reaper."
"Please be careful," I whisper, not asking him to stay. I can't, as much as I want to do exactly that. His brother needs him. Both of them do. I can no more ask him to stay right here in this truck with me as I can ask him to stop being Fae.
"Always." He brushes his lips across mine in a soft pass, and then he and Reaper climb from the truck. The overhead lights momentarily flicker on, allowing me to see what Malachi did.
We're stopped at a rickety wooden bridge that's little more than a few pieces of old wood stretched across the roadway over a creek. The creek is frozen solid, and ice stands several inches thick on the wood. If we tried to drive over it, we'd slide right off the side into the frozen water.
Reaper's Magn glows brighter as he calls his lyststål to him. A second later, Dax does the same. They jog toward the bridge, their feet soundless over the ice.
"He's one of the strongest warriors we have," Malachi says quietly. "He'll be fine out there."
He will be. He has to be. I refuse to accept anything less. But I still hold my breath anyway, barely daring to breathe as Reaper puts his lyststål to the ice, slowly melting through it. It takes fifteen minutes to melt enough for Malachi to drive over the bridge.
Once the truck is safely on the other side, Reaper and Dax quickly climb back in.
I burrow into Dax's arms, sending up a prayer of gratitude…though I'm not entirely sure who to address it to any longer. It's been a long, long time since I prayed at all. Now, I'm not sure exactly who listens to our prayers. Not even the Fae know.
"You're freezing," I whisper to Dax, shivering when his cold skin touches mine.
"I am well, bittesmå ljós," he promises, pulling me closer. His lips seek mine in the dark, his kiss hot and hunger. A purr rumbles in his chest, sending waves of heat wafting through me. "Nei, I am better than well."
"Dax," I hiss.
He laughs, a wicked, devilish sound, and kisses me again.
I groan, burying my face in his throat. He's a wicked, wicked Fae. And I think I love it. No, I know I love it. The last twenty-four hours have been a whirlwind. But the man standing steady at the center of the maelstrom makes my heart race. He's quickly wriggling his way into my heart, taking little pieces I never intended to give him. And I keep willingly handing them over as if it's the most natural thing in the world to do.
"Faen!" Malachi hisses, slamming on the brakes.
I lift my head to find out what's happening, just as a chorus of howls rip the night apart, far, far too close. Dax goes rigid, a curse rattling from his lips. Reaper swears too.