The heavy bag slung over my shoulder makes it impossible to move any faster than my current snail speed. Merrick’s sword alone weighs an impossible amount, though I know leaving it behind is not an option. Just as remaining where I was this morning until he shifts back is not.
The magic is becoming even more unstable by the day, his pained groans indicating that the transition is still far more painful than I can even imagine. Which means finding this witch has never been more important.
I swat a mosquito away, not wanting to add to the dozens of other bites all over my face, neck, and arms.
Merrick’s beast took off into the swamp last night, and I’m trying like hell to not be irritated about it. He could have at least stuck around, let me strap some of this to his back— Something howls, a bone-chilling, blood-pumping cry. I spin, scanning the trees behind me, but there’s nothing. No one.
Adrenaline surging through my system, I head for the nearest bush and kneel, remaining completely hidden from sight as I wait for whatever cried out to come searching for me.
Was it Merrick’s beast?
Another creature altogether?
Heavy boots thunder on the path directly in front of me. I hold my breath as two men come into view. They stop just in front of me, turning their heads to the sky and inhaling.
Their flesh is pale green, just like the man yesterday. Blood and puss ooze from open sores all along their bodies. When one man turns toward me and bares his teeth, it’s all I can do not to scream.
“I smell someone who does not belong,” he says.
I swallow hard.
“Someone who is far too pretty to be out here,” the other adds.
They creep closer to the bushes, their eyes not quite finding mine. Honestly, that’s my only hope at this point. That perhaps they aren’t talking about me. It’s not too far off to believe that someone else might have ventured into these swamps, is it?
“Come out, pretty thing. We can smell your innocence.”
I clamp a hand over my mouth as I palm my dagger with the other. Merrick’s sword is beside me, but it’s so damned heavy it’ll do me no good.
A hand juts into the bushes. I throw myself back, and pain shoots through my side. Freezing in place, I cry silently, using only my free hand to feel for the branch currently jutting out of my side.
“Your blood smells delicious,” the man with sharpened teeth coos. “Come out, and we’ll play a game, pretty thing.”
“I ain’t waiting no more.” The other starts for the line in front of me, so I rip myself free, whimpering as I sprint past them, abandoning the pack and Merrick’s sword. Dagger in hand, I make a run for it.
A hand closes around my braid and rips me back.
The ground slams into my back, momentarily knocking the breath from my lungs. Both barbarians grin down at me—sinister sneers that turn the blood in my veins to ice.
“Well, you’re even prettier than I imagined.” He kneels down, gaze traveling over my barely covered breasts and the hollow of my throat.
“You’ll want to leave me be,” I say, trying to keep my voice level, despite the terror that burns inside.
“And why would we want to do that?” the other asks.
“I am the wife of the alpha,” I say. “He runs the Shadow Lands, and he will kill you all.”
The men look to each other then turn back to me and laugh. “We don’t fucking care about no alpha.”
“And we certainly do not care about the Shadow Lands,” the other adds. As if to demonstrate how meaningless my words are, he reaches down and closes a hand around my throat. “I’ll fuck you silly then deliver your bloody, used body to your alpha.” Leaning in, he runs his tongue along my cheek.
I don’t hesitate. With all the strength I have, I drive the blade up into the bottom of his throat. He chokes, gasping and dropping me as I rip my blade free.
The other man roars and lunges for me. “You bitch!”
I sprint toward the trees, running as fast as I can until—he yells, and the chase stops. Slowly, I turn just in time to see his head disappear beneath a sandy pit that I missed stepping into by all of about two inches.
A sob rips free from my throat, but I don’t spend long here.
I return to the body of the first. He’s dead now, eyes wide open, blood soaking the ground beneath him. But I ram my foot back and kick him hard in the ribs. Fresh pain shoots through my foot, up my leg, and into my injured side, but I do it again anyway.
“Not so tough now, are you, bastard?” I choke out.
One final kick and the pain is so great I can barely see straight. Wandering back into the brush, I retrieve the pack and Merrick’s sword, only managing to make it mere minutes from the body before crumbling to the ground behind a sloping tree.
I’m steps from the road but hidden well enough. Hopefully.
Gripping the sides of my shirt, I shred the bottom and reveal a jagged wound from the brush. After pouring some of my water on it though, I’m grateful to see that while the stick took a chunk out of my side, no pieces remain behind.
I tear a sleeve of my shirt off and wrap it tightly around my waist. Then I settle back against the tree and close my eyes as I fight to catch my breath. Merrick didn’t come.
I was in danger and his beast didn’t show.
Does that mean he’s too far away?
Or did it fall victim to a sandpit? An alligator? A barbarian?
A sob rips from my throat so I cover my mouth with my elbow and cry against it, not wanting to draw any more attention to myself.
Only when I manage to get control over my fear do I begin walking—or more accurately limping—once more. Putting distance between me and the men I killed is a smart move after all. Because if the predators in these swamps don’t come for the bodies, I’ve no doubt their men will come looking.
After wading through shallow, murky water, I situate myself in the exposed root system of a large tree. It’s far enough from the water that I should have ample warning should something come out of it, and far enough from the road that I’ll hear barbarians before they get to me.
Completely shielded from view, I set the pack down beside me and clutch the dagger to my chest as I watch the horizon.
Dusk has fallen, and with it, insects have begun their nightly songs. Never, in my entire life, have I felt more alone than I do right now.
The fact that Merrick’s beast left me altogether is far more troublesome than I care to let myself think too strongly on. Even as the animal, he’s always been there at my side. Prepared to fight for me. So why the change now?
Why leave me to die?
Something moves in the shadows. I white-knuckle the hilt of my blade and slowly sink down further in between the roots. It continues walking, moving as a predator might, and it’s not until the thing steps into the light of the moon slowly rising over us that I get a full look.
The relief is felt in my bones.
“Merrick?” I whisper his name, almost afraid to be wrong.
He whirls on me. Then sprints.
I stand, and his arms come around me like twin vices. “Kiya.” He grips me to him. “Fuck. Where the fuck have you been? What happened? You’re bleeding.” He pushes me away from him, his gaze traveling over my body.
“I was attacked.”
His glare turns murderous.
“I told them who I was. Who you were. They didn’t care. Told me they would rape and deliver my broken body to you.” I choke their threat out, still reeling. It’s hardly the first time that threat has been thrown my way.
But it’s the first time I felt genuinely helpless.
Alone.
At the castle, I’d had the knowledge that the king needed me untouched. Back at Merrick’s home, he was a scream away.
This time, however, no one came.
Merrick’s growl sends a shiver up my spine. He releases me and turns away, his body vibrating beneath the dim light of the moon.
“Where were you?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. “Why did you leave me?”
“My beast is becoming more unhinged,” he says. “He is more volatile, and when he felt he would hurt you, he ran. By the time I changed back, you were gone. I’ve been tracking you all day.”
“I was alone,” I choke out, the fear returning. “You left me.” Even though logically I know he had no choice in the matter, it still hurts. “I thought you might be dead. That you’d fallen into quicksand or been attacked—”
Merrick rushes back toward me and cups the sides of my face. “I’m so fucking sorry, love. I swear, I’m going to slaughter them all.” He presses his lips to my forehead and then reaches down to brush a hand over my injury. “How bad is it?”
“The wound itself is not terrible, but if it becomes infected, it will be.”
“Fuck. We need to turn around. Go home.”
“We can’t.”
“I will not let you die for me, Kiya. It was different when the beast could be contained. When he could be at your side. Now—” trailing off, he gestures to my injury. “Things have changed.”
Free hand clenched into a fist, I raise the dagger and point it at Merrick. “I. Am. Not. Leaving. Not until this curse is broken or we have searched every fucking inch of this swamp.”
“Kiya—”
“No.”
“I can make you leave,” he says. “Throw you over my shoulder and run out of this place.”
For a moment, I see a glimpse of the man he was before we grew together. The man willing to tie me onto the back of a horse.
I step closer. “Then I will come running right back the moment I get the chance. This is too important, Merrick. Or are you so willing to live a life separate from mine?” I point the dagger at his chest. “You might as well cut my heart out right here if that’s the future I am expected to live.”
Merrick stares me down, challenge in his glare, but I give it right back. I’ve come too far to give up now. He opens his mouth to respond, but a howl splits the sky. It’s tortured, pained, and moments later, the glint of lanterns shine in the distance.
“We need to go.”
Merrick reaches down to retrieve the pack, slings it over his shoulder, and holds his blade in one hand. With his other, he grips mine and pulls me toward the brush on the opposite side.
“What the hell is that?” I choke out, tears streaming down my face.
“I’m not sure what it was,” he replies. “Though I imagine it is suffering greatly.”
“We need to go rescue it,” I say. “Whatever it is, they’re going to kill it, Merrick.” While I don’t relish the idea of facing these men again, I cannot condemn another living thing to their violence. Not when we might be able to help.
Merrick stops and releases my hand to stroke my cheek with his thumb. “I will not risk you to save that animal,” he says. “You are far more valuable to me.”
“But—”
He silences me with a tender kiss then drops the bag. “I need to dress. Then we will find safe shelter to tend to your wound.”
“We have to find her.”
“We will discuss it once you’re not at risk of dying,” he snaps. Reaching into the bag, he retrieves a pair of pants and boots. After dressing, Merrick slings the pack over his back before he retrieves his sword once more. Together, we move through the brush, slowly, each step carefully chosen.
Behind us, the cheers of the swamp men ring out, and my heart breaks for whatever creature found itself trapped at their mercy.
Merrick stops. “Do you smell that?”
“Smell what?”
“Fire.”