Lexi strolled toward the large weeping willow near the lake. She inhaled the sweet scent of spring and the water lilies floating on the water. The gentle breeze caused the small green leaves to dance as she approached the thick canopy they created.
The branches spilling into the water sent small ripples across the serene surface when the wind stirred them. She couldn’t see it yet, but beneath the boughs of the tree and against its trunk, she’d erected a small marker for her father.
His body would never reside here, but his memories lingered like ghosts over a graveyard. She heard his laughter as he chased her beneath the drooping branches and through the curtain of tiny leaves.
Her laughter mingled with his when he lifted her from the ground and spun her around. Her feet flew through the air, and for a moment, she was flying and the world was this wondrous place. She never once doubted his love for her.
Over the years, they spent many hours beneath this tree playing, imagining they were in a fantasy world battling pirates or soaring through the air on the Lord’s dragons. Sometimes, she would sit on his lap while he read to her for hours, or they would feed the ducks while birds flitted through the branches and the wind whispered through the leaves.
It had been years since they last sat beneath the tree together. The war took him away long before it claimed his life, but she came here often to sit beneath the boughs and talk to him. Only now, he wasn’t talking back anymore.
She refused to look at the smoke rising from the burned-out city while she walked; she’d seen enough of it. Arriving at the tree, she pulled back some of the branches and ducked beneath the leaves.
When she released the branches, they swished as they settled into place behind her. Hidden beneath the tree, some of the weight lifted from her shoulders and they sagged.
She’d spent most of the day trying not to think about what the future held after their return from the Gloaming last night. She hoped it wasn’t true, but she suspected it wouldn’t be long before Malakai turned up here.
She didn’t know how much time she had, but she had to prepare. However, she had no idea what to do. No matter what happened, she would not join her life to his, but her refusal was not something he would take well.
What would he do to her? To the manor? To Sahira?
She shuddered at the possibilities before shoving them aside. Those were concerns for a later time. Now, it was just her, this secret place, and the small plaque for her father.
The willow’s branches encased her, but they provided enough room for her to walk over to the marker without bending. Kneeling before it, she wiped away the leaves that had fallen onto it and sat back on her heels to read it.
Delano Harper.
Beloved father, brother, and friend.
She’d wanted to put so much more onto it, but no stone could ever be big enough to display the depth of her love or the endless magnitude of her grief.
“I miss you, Daddy,” she whispered.
A low groan accompanied her words. Lexi froze as the hair on her nape rose and prickles raced across her skin. She held her breath as she waited for something more, but the only sound was the breeze rustling the leaves.
She glanced around the shadowed interior but didn’t see anyone else. Rising, she edged to the left of the tree trunk. Her hand went to the hunting knife strapped to the belt on her waist.
Because she was half human, she couldn’t transport away from a threat like other vampires. She didn’t burn or catch fire in the sun, though, so she supposed it was a good trade-off. However, it didn’t feel like one right now.
She hadn’t imagined that groan, and if there was a threat on the other side of the tree, she couldn’t fend off many immortals if they got their hands on her. Still, she had to know what was there.
She slid her knife from its holster and held it before her as she stepped around the tree trunk. Lexi’s hand flew to her mouth when she spotted the man on the other side of the tree.
Red covered him, and it took her a minute to realize it wasn’t because his clothes were red. No, torn open and blood-soaked were the best ways to describe what lay before her.
Unsure what to do, she stood and gawked for longer than she should have before reacting. When her feet stopped sticking to the soft earth, she rushed forward to kneel at his side.
She reached for him before jerking her hands back. She had no idea what to do or where to touch him that wouldn’t hurt him more. When he groaned again, his head rolled toward her, and a pair of narrowed black eyes met hers.
There was no recognition in those eyes, and she had no idea who he was, but she knew the raven hair, dark eyes, slender build, pointed ears, and ciphers of the dark fae. She had no idea what he was doing here, but whatever propelled him to seek shelter couldn’t be good.
“They’re coming for me,” he croaked.
“Who’s coming for you?” she asked.
She inspected the jagged slices filleting his side and chest to the bones beneath. The blood drenching his torn-open black shirt caused it to stick to his flesh.
Carefully peeling away the scraps of cloth, she revealed the jagged tears beneath. A lycan had done this.
Lexi suppressed the unease churning in her stomach while she inspected the wound. The Lord of the Shadow Realms had unleashed bounty hunters on the remaining rebel army, and with their superior tracking skills, many of those hunters were lycan.
She should get away from this man and flee to her house. She should pretend she’d never seen him or, better yet, turn him in. He was a danger to her and Sahira, but she didn’t move.
She’d never forgive herself if she turned her back on him or, worse, was the reason his hunters finished what they started. Her father had fought against him, but she didn’t want to fight, and she was so tired of all the violence and death.
“How many of them are coming?” she asked.
When he didn’t respond, she shifted her attention from his injury to his pale face. Even his lips had lost all their color, and his eyes were closed. Leaning closer, she listened to his shallow breaths as they rattled in and out.
He was alive, and if she could get him somewhere safe, he would heal, but if she did that, she’d embroil herself in this mess. She could get Sahira; her aunt would know what to do, but she preferred not to involve Sahira in this.
No matter what, she couldn’t leave him here to be hunted down and slaughtered. Rising, she made her way to the branches and pulled a couple back to peer out. Birds flitted through the limbs of a nearby maple, and a dog lounged in the sun by the barn, but she didn’t see anyone else.
If she could get him into the storm cellar and the tunnels running beneath the property, he could hide there until he healed.
It might be the worst decision she ever made, she already had enough to deal with, but she lowered the branches back into place and returned to the man’s side. He didn’t move.
He was completely helpless, and if she didn’t act soon, he would also be completely dead.
Grasping his arm, she draped it around her shoulder and slid her arm around his back. Planting her feet, she lifted him from the ground. He moaned, and his head fell back, but when she jostled him, it fell forward until his chin rested against his chest.
She may be half human, but at least she had some immortal strength, and she dragged him toward the edge of the tree with relative ease. With a shaking hand, she pushed aside the leaves to peer out again.
Across the field of green grass, the manor stood a couple of hundred yards away. Modeled after her dad’s childhood home, the estate looked as if it could have stepped out of eighteenth-century England with its gray stone façade, rounded windows, and five chimneys.
It was far too large for her and Sahira now that most of the workers who once lived there had fled, but she would never give it up. This was her childhood home, her father had loved the place, and she adored its many rooms, sweeping staircases, and fairy-tale appearance.
When she was young, Lexi would imagine she was a queen ruling her subjects or a ghost roaming the halls as she slipped from one room to the next. Now, she didn’t pretend anymore, but she hoped that if she ever found someone to love, she would one day raise her children here too.
That was if she didn’t get caught and killed for harboring a dark fae who was most likely a fugitive.
“I hope you’re not a complete asshole,” she muttered before hauling him out from under the leaves and dragging him across the yard.
The storm cellar was only a hundred yards away, but it seemed like a mile as she hurried across the open space while his feet dragged across the ground. To make matters worse, it felt like it got farther away with every step she took. When she finally made it to the cellar, she dug into her pocket and pulled out the key.
Her eyes darted around, but she still didn’t see anyone as she shifted his weight before bending to stick the key in the lock. Her fingers were surprisingly steady as she turned the key.
She slid the key back into her pocket and glanced around again. Only the lazy dog remained in view as she pulled open the doors and dragged him into the shadows. His booted feet thudded against the steps as she hauled him into the darkness.
Three feet into the room, she found the string for the single bulb hanging from the ceiling. Holding her breath, she pulled it and breathed a sigh when the bulb illuminated the damp space.
When she left the manor, the electricity was on, but that hadn’t meant it still was. Since the war, it often came and went. It had been more reliable lately as the humans started patching pieces of their world back together.
The bulb illuminated the shelves lining the walls. At one time, supplies packed those shelves, but barely anything remained.
This wasn’t the best place to leave him, but she had to. If he was a rebel and lycans were hunting him, they would track the scent of his blood here. She slid his arm from her shoulders and let him slump against the wall.
She was halfway up the stairs before she realized that not only was she most likely harboring a rebel, but he could also be a murderer, a criminal, or something far worse.
Why was she doing this? What was she thinking?
Her heart hammered as she spun back toward him. She had to get him out of here!
She couldn’t do this. She hated seeing someone else die, but she couldn’t put Sahira’s life in jeopardy by allowing this man to stay.
If he were a rebel, he’d stood against her father. Then, a disturbing possibility occurred to her; he could have been the one who killed her father.
Running back to his side, Lexi knelt beside him. She was reaching for him, determined to drag him out of here and into the woods to let him fend for himself, when his eyes cracked open.
“Thank you,” he croaked before passing out again.
Her hands froze before falling to her side. Her father may have opposed him, but he would never turn away an injured man, and he would never toss a defenseless man to the wolves, literally.
He could be the one who killed your dad.
The possibility hit her hard; it was true, but unlikely. And she still couldn’t be responsible for his almost certain death by turning him away.
She pushed herself away from him and fled up the stairs before the hunters showed up while she was still sitting in the dark, debating what to do. She locked the doors and left him behind.