Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 123779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 619(@200wpm)___ 495(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 619(@200wpm)___ 495(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
“Fuck,” he whispers, shock tightening his features when he sees the horrible state I’m in.
He darts forward and falls beside me on his knees. His hand trembles as he reaches for my face, and when his palm brushes over my hair, I try to move so I can get closer to him.
“I’m so fucking sorry,” he groans in my mind.
“Get me out of here before they come back,” I beg. “Please!”
Raighne carefully pushes his arms beneath me, and picking me up bridal style, he cradles me to his solid chest.
When his warmth starts to seep into my body, I feel feverish, and my head slumps against his shoulder.
He walks out the door with me in his arms, and every step he takes makes excruciating pain shudder through me.
“I’m sorry. It’s going to hurt,” his voice fills my mind.
I try to nod. “Just get me away from here.”
As soon as we’re outside, Raighne starts to run unbelievably fast, the other man following close behind us.
The movements jar my body, and I clench my jaw and ball my fists against my chest, trying to be strong. Tears slip from my eyes and spill silently over my cheeks.
Raighne runs at an incredible pace and doesn’t stop until it’s well into the night.
I’ll take the pain if it means he’s getting me away from Adeth and Ares. The more distance between me and that hellhole, the better.
When he slows down to a stop, I can’t keep a groan from rippling over my dry lips. I shiver in his hold as he kneels on the ground, gently pulling his arm from beneath my knees.
A moment later, he holds a flask to my lips, and I drink greedy gulps before he helps himself to some water.
When my eyes drift to the other man, he says, “I’m Griffith, Raighne’s father. We’ll be home shortly.”
Raighne’s eyes flick over my face and body, then he asks, “Ready?”
I have zero strength and can only whisper mentally to him. “Yes.”
He climbs to his feet again, and the movement sends shockwaves of pain through me, causing a whimper to slip through my lips. I regret it immediately.
I have to be strong. Weakness has no place in this world.
I soon lose track of time and how long he’s been running, but I’m relieved when we finally reach a camp.
A voice that sounds vaguely familiar cries, “Alchera! What have they done to her?”
Gentle arms take me from Raighne’s, pulling me close against a comforting chest.
I open my eyes and look into the same green eyes as my own, only they’re older and filled with horror.
The love and intensity that fills me is overwhelming as I realize I’m looking at my father.
Memories of happy moments in my childhood flash through my mind.
“Alchera. Oh, my Alchera,” he weeps. He falls to his knees, holding me as tenderly as he possibly can.
For a moment, he cries into my hair, and silent tears of my own join his.
When he lifts his head, he orders with the power of a King brimming in his voice, “Hunt down that woman! We leave at dawn. Adeth will die for this!”
He buries his face in my bloody, knotted hair, and all I can do is whimper, “Dad?”
“Please, forgive me,” he groans. “I’ve failed you.”
“My King, we need to tend to her,” Aster says softly behind us, but I have no intention of letting go of my father. Not after all these years.
He gets up without loosening his hold on me and walks into a tent, and I can feel Raighne close by.
Taking a seat, my father places me on his lap while cradling me in his arms like a baby.
God, even though it hurts like hell, it feels so good to be held by him.
“You may tend to her in my arms,” Dad orders before pressing a soft kiss to my forehead.
Many different fragrances fill the air in a matter of seconds. Someone begins to wash my arms, and another starts on my legs. I keep my eyes locked on my father, trying to brace for a world of pain.
After long minutes of them cleaning me, Aster murmurs, “I’m afraid we’ll have to cut her hair.”
I have no say in the matter as my father mutters, “Do what you must.” He brushes his hand over my cheek, and his tone is loving when he whispers, “It will grow back, my sweet girl.”
My sweet girl.
The term of endearment makes tears leak from my eyes, and I squeeze them shut.
I feel as they cut my hair, and once they’re done, Aster says, “You need to place her on the bed, Your Highness. We need to tend to her back.”
Reluctantly, my father climbs to his feet and carefully helps me to sit on the side of a bed.
Aster starts to pull a curtain around the bed, then glances at my father. “We need to remove her underwear.”