“Lass, she had her reasons,” Arc finally says softly. I nod, looking out of the window, avoiding his glance. It’s a sore point and I’d rather avoid crying in front of them. I don’t cry very often, but somehow I feel like my hormones are in turmoil. Must be all this testosterone around me.
We drive on in silence, slowly getting closer to a new chapter in my life.
Chapter Six
It’s late afternoon by the time we arrive in Ullapool. We have no time to explore its pretty little streets as we drive straight into the maw of the ferry (seriously, it looks like a massive sea monster with its mouth wide open ready to swallow the cars and lorries that are waiting to board). The ferry is much bigger than I thought. There are several food outlets, a shop and even a tiny cinema. We head to a quiet corner in a pub-style restaurant. I have a quick look at the menu, but the movement of the ship is making me feel queasy already - I don’t even want to think about how it’ll feel once we leave the harbour. Instead of food, I order a whisky. The guys look at me strangely when I order a glass of the 12-year-old Highland Park, but I ignore them. Not every person under 25 drinks their whisky mixed with coke or other travesties. I add a single drop of water, gleefully watching the Guardians’ faces. This is fun. Whisky has never tasted this good.
They have all ordered food, and by the time it arrives, the boat has left Ullapool and the waves have started to become bigger. The floor is vibrating from the movement of the engines, and together with the smell of the food it’s beginning to make me feel nauseous.
I excuse myself and head to the toilets. I don’t have to puke (not yet, anyway), but I need to get away from the food. Okay, maybe the toilets weren’t the best idea. Judging from the smell permeating the small room, nobody has cleaned them in a while. Or a lot of other people have been sick already, which I kind of doubt. I stumble back through the heaving corridors until I reach a lounge. Comfortable airline-style seats are inviting me to rest, but instead I step through a heavy door out onto the deck. I breathe in the fresh air - it’s only slightly smelling of exhaust fumes - and go to the railings, looking down into the dark, foamy water. A few other people are standing outside, mostly smokers having a fag.
With every breath, my nausea dissipates. Guess I’ll spend the rest of the journey outside. I stick my hands into the large front pocket of my hoodie. I need to thank the guys later on for bringing my clothes from the hotel. Taking off my mud-crusted pyjamas was the best thing I did all day.
Gulls are circling the ship, white dots in a cloud-hung sky. I wonder if they’ll accompany us all the way to the islands. I close my eyes, breathing in the salty sea air. Below me, the engines hum a steady song. The enormity of this journey finally begins to sink in. I’m going to visit my mother. I’m actually going to see the Realms of the Gods. I’ve dreamed of travelling there all my life, and now it’s finally time. I’m going back to the place I was born, and get to know the woman who gave birth to me. Maybe she’ll even tell me about my father. On all her visits, and in her letters, she’s refused to tell me who he is. All I know is that he isn’t a God - but that doesn’t really help, does it.
With the engine noise filling my ears, I don’t notice the quiet around me until it’s too late. I open my eyes and realise that I’m the only one left on the deck. It’s eerily quiet, and the gulls have disappeared. I turn to walk back inside, but I don’t even make it a single step. I am thrown into the air by an invisible fist squeezing my waist. I tumble and fall, screaming, and then the sea comes closer, too close, black and blue and foreboding, and the wind drops me into the water, pushing me under. I fight, freeing my magic, pushing against the foreign, black tendrils that are wrapped around my body. My eyes are filled with seawater, but somehow I know that this strange, hostile magic is all around me. Instinctively, I weave a net of my magic all over my skin, then push, ignoring my burning lungs, until the net becomes a sphere around me, keeping the stranger’s magic away from me. It takes all my strength to keep the shield up and use my arms and legs to try and reach the surface of the water that is threatening to drown me. Black spots are clouding my vision and my lungs are going to force open my mouth any second now. I’m going to drown. Finally, I reach the surface, taking in a big breath, almost swallowing half a wave in the process. I cough, trying to stay afloat while struggling for air. My energy is rapidly leaving me. I’ll have to decide between keeping the magic net up or swimming. I choose swimming.
When the magic tendrils pull back into my body, a shiver runs through me, bringing a tiny bit of extra energy with it. Enough to stay afloat for a little while longer. I shake my head, trying to get the salt water out of my eyes so I can see. Waves are towering over me on all sides, but in between them I can see the ferry, disappearing slowly. Nobody seems to have noticed that I went overboard. What now? I can just about see land in the direction we came from, but I’d never reach it. Even if I knew how to use my magic to swim faster, I wouldn’t have the energy. I’m getting tired of being faced with certain death. It’s happened far too often in the past few days. In this moment, I wish the Gods were like the beings many humans expect them to be: all-knowing, all-seeing, able to rescue people from danger. Instead, they’re probably drunk in some palace in an alternate reality. They couldn’t care less about humans. And even if they did, it’s not like they could see me from their Realm.
Fuck it. I’m going to live. In a sudden burst of inspiration, I form a small fireball floating above me, away from the reach of the waves, then throw it into the sky, like a flare. It’s not very bright, but I’m sure it can be seen from the ferry. Just in case, I pull together every last bit of magic I have in me and make a second ball of fire, slightly bigger. I let it float upwards, trying to make it last as long as possible. I almost cry when my last hope fizzles out above me. But then, what’s the point in crying when your cheeks are already wet with salt water from the sea that is going to drown you.
With every wave carrying me up and letting me drop, my hope wanes. I think of my parents, the humans who raised me. They’ll be waiting for me to return, thinking I’m happily spending time with my birth mother, when in fact I’m lying at the bottom of the sea.
A shout rips through the roaring of the waves. I try to keep my head out of the water to listen. Again, a shout, this time closer.
I open my mouth to reply, but a wave breaks over my head and I am shoved down into the depths. When I resurface again, I manage to shout, although it comes out more like a hoarse whisper, “Here! I’m here!”
“WYN! Wynter!” Frost. He’s come for me.
“Hee—” Another wave swallows my shout, but a second later he is there, hovering on the waves like a surfer. In any other situation I’d admire the effortless way he seems to stand on the water, the beauty of his toned body against the light of the waning sun, the shadows on his face highlighting his masculine features... But in this moment, I’m drowning and I don’t care. Sue me.
He kneels by my side - yes, he effing kneels on the water that is trying to devour me - and pulls me up until I’m in his arms, pressed against his heaving chest.
“Are you hurt?” His voice is tense and I want to tell him that I’m alright, that I will be alright, but all that comes out is a pitiful cough. He hugs me even tighter and begins to run over the water’s surface, back towards the ferry. His body is warm and I snuggle against him, listening to his heart beat as I close my eyes.
Somehow, we get back to the ferry. It involves him running on the water’s surface, slaloming around waves and clouds of spray. I stay snuggled against Frost’s broad chest, shivering and only half-conscious. Too. Much. Water. For. One. Day.
And far too much magic. At least this time it wasn’t my own magic that tried to kill me. Which leads to the question what this assassination attempt was all about, but I can’t think. My head hurts.
When we arrive at the ferry, I can see the other three guys standing on deck by the railing, looking down on us. Storm holds up his hands and a wind hose form
s around us, gently picking us up (together with a lot of ocean) and carrying us all the way to the deck they’re standing on. Strong arms take me away from Frost. I resist, I want to stay with him.
“Shhh, it’s ok, he just needs a moment of rest.” I let go of Frost, and the warmth. But I’m handed to another warm body I can snuggle against. Another warm chest presses against my back until I’m sandwiched between two of my Guardians. Now, I understand why they’re called that. They worked together and actually rescued me. I feel a little pathetic; the damsel in distress. I’m supposed to be the strong one, the one who’s more powerful than them. Right now, I don’t feel powerful at all. But inside, a little voice reminds me how much I enjoy being hugged by the guys.
Now that I’m out of the water and standing in the cold evening air, I feel the cold seeping into my bones. If the guys weren’t holding me up, I’d probably collapse to the ground from exhaustion. My magic is depleted; only now I notice how much of a part it is inside me. It’s like there’s a hole inside my chest, just to the right of my heart. I hope it refills quickly.
“Let’s get you out of the cold,” Crispin says gently from behind me. He lifts me up and carries me in his arms, back inside. Arc is walking ahead of us, leading us until we reach a large door. It’s dark inside but he switches on the light as we enter - and we’re standing in a small cinema. It’s actually more like a big tv screen with a few rows of chairs in front of it.
“The projector is broken, so we’ll be undisturbed in here for now,” he explains. Crispin carries me to the front row and gently puts me down on one of the chairs. I must look desperate to get back into his warm arms, because he says, “we need to get you out of your clothes first, Princess. You’ll not get warm otherwise.”
Even in my diminished state of mind, alarm bells are starting to ring. Getting naked. In front of the guys. No way. It’s bad enough Crispin has seen me in my underwear already.
Storm gives me a stern glance and takes charge. “Arc, go to the car and get her some clothes from her bag. Frost, you’re soaked as well. Strip, Arc can get you something new to wear. Crispin, check her for injuries once she’s undressed.”
“What? No, definitely not,” I protest. “You’re all going to leave the room and then I’ll change. No nudeness, no examining, no staring. Get it?”
Arc starts to laugh, but I frown at him until he turns and leaves the room. Got rid of one, three more to go.
“I’m happy to strip together with you if that makes it easier,” Frost snickers, lifting an eyebrow suggestively. No thanks.
I ignore the rush of heat in my cheeks and other body parts. This is awkward.
The shivering is getting worse and my teeth are beginning to chatter noticeably. When I cough, Storm is by my side in a moment, pulling me out of my seat.
“Clothes off, now,” he growls through clenched teeth.
Shocked, I stare at him. He sighs. “Frost, take her.”
“I’m busy stripping as you commanded, brother dear,” Frost chuckles, standing there with all his clothes still on, watching us with amusement. He’s making no moves to actually take off his wet shirt or - Gods forbid - trousers.
“Crisp, you do it.” Storm shoves me in the blond guy’s direction.
“I’ll need my hands for the healing,” Crispin replies, smiling innocently.
Storm’s expression is changing from stern to desperate.
“Fine, I’ll do it. Lift up your arms, Princess.”
“Stop calling me princess, I’m Wyn. And no, I won’t.” I cross my arms in front of my chest. One exasperated sigh later, my arms are in the air, held up there in Storm’s iron grip. I shriek and try to get away from him, but he’s not letting me go. I weakly kick his shin, but all that gets me is his legs capturing my own between his, squeezing them so I can’t move and am no longer standing, but hanging from my arms. What. The. Fuck. This guy is crazy.
The other two are bent over laughing. Once I’ve killed Storm, they’ll be next. My wrath will be terrible. When my magic returns.
Storm changes his grip until he holds my arms in one hand, then uses the other hand to lift up my top. I squeal as my belly is exposed to the guys. I struggle, but all the movement is making me light-headed. Maybe I should have let Crispin check me out first.
“Stop struggling,” Storm growls, squeezing my legs harder with his own. Harder. Hard. No, don’t think of that. This is not a sexual thing. This is survival of the fittest.
Storm is fighting with my shirt - luckily, my boobs are forming a natural hill that the wet fabric is refusing to slide over. Thanks boobs. Glad you’re on my side. And the fact that my nipples are hard is not a sign of treachery, but of the cold. Definitely.
“Let me help,” Frost murmurs from behind me and slides his warm hands under my shirt. I can feel him touching my bra strap, wandering higher, squeezing my shoulders. He leans against me and instinctively, I stop fighting his brother and lean back until my back touches his chest.
“You’re not supposed to grope her, you’re supposed to help me strip her,” Storm complains.
“Isn’t that the same thing?”
“Fuck it.” Storm lets me fall against his brother - who catches me, luckily - and puts his hands on my neckline, ripping my shirt apart until I’m standing there in my bra and something that looks like a bolero.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I scream as I try to cover myself with my arms. At least that’s what I want to do, but Frost takes them and presses them against my sides.
“You don’t have anything to hide,” he whispers, his breath hot against my ear. The resistance inside me melts a tiny bit. Why does his voice have to be so... sexy.
Before I can do anything, he gently pushes me forward until I’m pressed against his brother’s chest. Frost slides the ruined shirt down my back until there’s nothing left on my skin but the bra. His hands slide over my skin, warm and gentle. Goosebumps break out on my arms. This feels good and wrong at the same time. I’m standing in my bra in front of three men I’ve only just met.
“Oh, I see you’ve started without me!” Arc’s deep voice echoes through the cinema.
Ok, make that four men. Maybe this would be a good moment to feel like a slut. Or to scream. Or to just give in... no. Not happening.
Arc is walking down the steps towards us, his eyes hungrily taking in my body. This big, sweet guy has just turned into a hot, sexy predator.
I stop squirming and just look at him, trapping his gaze with my own. Frost takes that moment to unclasp my bra. I’m still pressed against Storm’s chest, which is holding it in place. But I can see from the evil grin on Arc’s face that this is not going to be the case for much longer. He joins the twins, which means I’m now sandwiched between three guys. Crispin is holding back, just watching us. That doesn’t mean that he looks unaffected though.
I shiver involuntarily.
Arc steps even closer and cups my cheek with one hand. “You’re freezing, Wyn. You should really get out of those clothes.”
“We’ve been trying to tell her that, but she won’t listen,” Frost complains, humour sparkling in his voice.
“I am not. Getting. Naked. In front of you,” I repeat, but it comes out in a bit of a moan as Frost’s hands suddenly cup my breasts from behind. He gently squeezes them, rubbing my nipples through the thin fabric of my bra. Thank the Gods for that. Not for the squeezing, I mean. Just for the fabric. Really.
Arc kneels down on my side, pushing Storm away until he’s in front of me. His hands go to the top of my trousers and I really should protest, but I really don’t want to. He slowly unzips my jeans and I take in a heavy breath. Frost is still kneading my boobs and I lean back against him - and my bra slips down, leaving his hands on my naked skin. Ooops. Storm is staring at my chest, his face an unreadable mask. I look up at him, unsure. Then a smile begins to lift his cheeks, before his mouth crashes down on mine, pushing me further back into Frost’s embrace. His lips are hard and so
ft at the same time and they claim me with a force that makes my heart flutter even more than it has already. I moan against him and open my mouth, making way for his tongue. In another part of my mind, I know that Arc is pulling down my trousers, and that Frost’s erection is pressing hard against my back while he’s playing with my nipples, but all I can focus on is the taste of Storm, his lips on mine, his tongue exploring my mouth.
When he breaks away, I’m breathless (and speechless). My knees feel weak, but I tell myself that it’s due to my exhaustion, not the most amazing kiss I’ve ever been given.
Slowly, my awareness of the rest of my body returns. Something is pulsing deep between my legs as I feel all three guys touching my body in different places. There’s something missing though. Someone. I move until I can see Crispin, standing on his own a few metres away from us. Our eyes meet and he gives me a sad smile.
I don’t know what my mouth is thinking, but I whisper, “Come here.”
He stays still for a moment and I’m close to accepting that he won’t join us, but then his smile turns determined and he moves towards us.
And then the worst possible thing happens.
The tannoy cracks loudly. “We will shortly arrive in Stornoway harbour. May passengers please return to their cars.”
A collective sigh goes through the room. I may have been part of it. Just when my body had finally overruled my mind.
Arc clears his throat and gets up from the floor. “We better get a move on.”
“Yeah,” Frost says, giving my breasts one last gentle squeeze before stepping away from me.
I am left with just Storm, who looks down at me sternly. “You should have changed.” Then he steps away from me, leaving me bewildered.
Arc hands me my fresh clothes; a simple black t-shirt and white linen trousers. Without speaking, the guys turn around, making me stare at them in surprise. Now they let me change undisturbed? I can’t believe it.
Winter Princess: A reverse harem novel (Daughter of Winter Book 1) Page 5
