Something had happened to her that had terrified her, and there were times when a single word or movement from someone else would set her off, making her want to cower under the covers like a child. Maybe that something was what had nearly killed her. No one seemed to know, or if they did, they weren’t telling her.
So she was left to deal with her inconvenient moments of fright, never able to predict when another might strike.
Torr slipped silently out of sight through the brush. Grace crouched to hide and make herself as small a target as possible. The action felt natural, as if she were used to cowering.
That idea grated on her pride. She was the weakest person here, not including the infants and toddlers, but that didn’t mean she was weak-willed. She would be as strong as she needed to be. As brave as she needed to be. Whoever she’d been in her old life, she was no longer that person. She had been remade.
She pulled the dagger from her belt. It was little more than a tool, meant for digging up roots and slicing off bark. But the blade was sharp, and her grip was firm.
Seconds passed in painful silence, each one measured in frantic beats of her heart. The rustling sounded again, only this time farther away.
She turned to face it and nearly stabbed Torr in his stomach.
He grabbed her hand, lifting the dagger out of the way before it could make contact. The move pulled her hard against his front, forcing her to catch herself. Her left hand splayed over hot male flesh. She felt muscles along his chest shift against her palm as his arm came around her to steady her.
She was plastered against him from knees to breasts, which made her heart pound even faster.
“It was just an animal,” he whispered.
Fear trickled out of her but was instantly replaced by something else—something hot and laced with excitement. It was as though her skin had suddenly come to life, allowing her to feel things she’d never noticed before.
The breeze swept past her, lifting fine hairs away from her nape. Each of his fingers at her back flexed slightly, as if he were trying to resist stroking her. The leather of her tunic was clinging softly to her thighs. Her legs were bare beneath the hem, and the worn softness of his pants made her want to rub against him. Or maybe it was the man beneath that created such an odd urge.
His head angled down and he stared at her mouth. She licked her lips, just in case there was some stray bit of food lingering there. She couldn’t stand the thought of embarrassing herself like that in front of this man.
The bright amber of his eyes darkened until only a slender rim of color remained. For some reason, seeing that change in his gaze excited her until her insides were squirming with the desire to get closer.
Not that there was much closer to get. Not with their clothes on.
Her fingers clenched involuntarily against his bare chest. She could have sworn she could feel his pulse speed up and a wave of heat spill out of his skin.
Slowly, his fingers relaxed on hers, allowing her to pull her weapon hand from his grip. “I’m sorry. I could have hurt you.”
He swallowed twice. “Not with that toy. If you want to fight, you need a real weapon.”
“I’m not allowed to fight. Brenya says I’m too fragile.”
“You are fragile, which is why you need to know how to protect yourself.”
“No one will teach me.”
“I will.”
His easy agreement made her suspicious. “Why?”
“Because I don’t know how long I’ll be around to keep you safe. I want to make sure you know how to do the job yourself.”
“That’s what I keep telling the women—I should be able to protect myself.”
“What do they say to that?”
“I should just stay in the village where I can’t get hurt.”
“I’d scoff at them for that, but I remember telling a young woman much like you much the same thing—to stay inside the walls of Dabyr where she’d be safe.”
“And was she?”
“No. She almost died inside those walls.” Torr released her and turned his back.
A thick wave of cold slunk along the ground, gripping her ankles. Before she could so much as gasp, that cold swelled up from the ground, enveloping her.
There was no question what it was. The Hunters were here.
Chapter 8
Grace grabbed Torr’s arm as she darted past him, forcing him to run. He could practically feel the panic spilling out of her as she crashed through the brush.
He spared a quick look over his shoulder and saw what had made her take off.
Hunters.
Two glittering black creatures charged after them, their target clear. Their skin looked like it had been forged from volcanic glass, chipped to a razor edge. They were tall and narrow, with sinuous, fish-shaped bodies that easily slashed through dense terrain. They traveled on four legs, the top of their backs at about eye level on Torr—just over six feet. From the tremors shaking the ground as they ran, they probably outweighed him by a lot.
Grace was ahead of him, but nowhere near as fast as the things behind him.
He drew his sword, gripped it in both hands and powered the blade through a tree as they passed, knocking it down behind him. The Hunters weren’t even slowed down. They tore right through it like it was no more than a twig, cutting it cleanly into logs.
If Grace didn’t run faster, these things were going to be slicing through her in a matter of seconds.
Torr picked up speed, grabbing Grace around the waist as he went. Her feet barely touched the ground as they ran. He could hear her rapid breathing, feel her muscles straining to keep up, but she was human, and that came with a potentially deadly set of limitations.
He tried to scan ahead for some kind of cover—a defensible location where he could hold them off. But the trees and undergrowth were too thick for him to see more than a few feet in front of them.
The sounds of glass crunching grew louder. A quick glance over his shoulder proved that the Hunters were definitely gaining on them.
“Just a little . . . farther,” panted Grace. “To . . . the right.”
He had no idea what she meant, but he trusted her, so he angled right, taking even more of her weight as he pushed his legs to pick up speed.
The Hunters were nearly on their heels. The thwack of leaves and branches being severed was right behind them. A few more seconds, and it would be him and Grace being cut to shreds.
Up ahead he saw bright orange sunlight. The sky. The trees were thinning out.
At least if they were in a clearing he could see these things coming at him—one wouldn’t be able to sneak around and attack him from behind while the other distracted him. He’d shove Grace up into a nearby tree where she would be relatively safe while he took the Hunters down.
The poorly timed fear of what might happen to her if he failed rippled through him, but he let it pass, giving it no weight or value. With none of his brothers here to help him, and Grace’s life on the line, his focus had to be absolute.
“Stop! Cliff!” she shouted in warning, just as what lay ahead came into view.
It wasn’t a clearing that awaited them. It was a steep drop down farther than he could see. The gap was several hundred feet wide—far too wide to jump.
Torr tightened his grip on Grace’s arm and hauled her sharply to the left. They landed hard, and her cry of pain tore away his concentration for a split second.
He gathered his wits enough to regain his feet, rather than seeing what was wrong with her. Whatever it was, it would have to wait until he dealt with the most pressing threat charging toward them. He lurched upright as one of the Hunters closed in for the kill.
Torr lifted his sword just in time for the creature to slam into him.
His blade sheared off a small chunk of translucent black rock. The thing screamed in pain, its voice sounding like glass grinding against stone.
The force of the blow rocked Torr back, but he kept his feet planted
, knowing that Grace was on the ground right behind him. If he stepped back, not only could he hurt her, but it would put the Hunter that much closer to her.
A bone-chilling cold seeped out from the thing, freezing the sweat on his brow.
The second Hunter streaked by, its body gleaming obsidian and orange. A moment later it disappeared into the thick foliage. There was no question in his mind. The Hunter was positioning itself to charge. And they had only a few seconds before it happened.
“Get up a tree,” ordered Torr. He didn’t know if she was able to obey, if she was even conscious.
His blade was locked against the front ridge of the Hunter’s head. Its jaws were too small to do more than snap at him, and its arms and legs were too short to reach him. The real threat was its partner, who could slide in silently at any moment, killing them before Torr even knew it was there.
The chill this creature put out grew deeper, numbing his toes. It had taken only a couple of seconds, making him wonder how much time he had before his fingers became numb, too. If he couldn’t hold his sword, they were both dead.
He turned his blade until the flat of it was pressing against a serrated ridge of black glass. With one hand on the hilt and the other on the frigid blade, he used all his strength to shove the Hunter back into a thick tree.
The thing’s feet slid over the leaves. It snarled and fought, but Torr was strengthened by the knowledge that he was the only thing standing between Grace and death.
The tree’s metallic bark split around the Hunter’s narrow body. Torr kept pushing, ignoring the tingling cold in his hands.
The trunk opened as the Hunter’s wedge-shaped body was forced back into it. A layer of frost crept over the bark, and the clear sap that had leaked out began to crystallize as it froze. Wood creaked as the ice spread through the tree.
“The other one’s back,” yelled Grace.
Her voice, even as frightened as it was, was as sweet as angels singing. She was alive, conscious and still with him.
Until that second, he hadn’t realized just how terrified he’d been that he’d lost her again. He’d kept that fear below the surface, where it couldn’t affect his ability to fight, but it was there, lurking, waiting for a chance to defeat him.
Torr flicked a glance toward the sound of her voice. She wasn’t in a tree. She was leaning heavily against one, holding her head. Blood trickled out from her hand, staining the knotted cords decorating her fingers. Her skin was as white as bleached bones.
She was staring wide-eyed at something in the distance.
The second Hunter.
Torr eased away from the one he was fighting, making sure his plan had worked. The Hunter didn’t follow him up. It was stuck inside the tree, embedded in frozen sap. Its feet scrabbled against the ground to find traction, but as soon as it had dug furrows in the soft earth, it could no longer even reach the ground.
It wasn’t dead, but it was disabled, and that was enough for Torr to move on to the next target.
That next target was sailing toward him, leaving bits of leaf litter and branches in its wake. Torr was in a bad position—too close to the jaws of the trapped Hunter. Even a few steps back would put him close enough to be killed.
The second Hunter must have seen that.
So did Grace.
She waved her arms and shouted to draw its attention. “I’m over here!”
She sprinted away from Torr, her gait unsteady and way too slow.
One of the Hunter’s eyes tracked her movement, but the other stayed fixed on Torr. The deep cold that suddenly embraced him had nothing to do with the chill the Hunters put off.
He scrambled to reposition himself—to make himself a more tempting target than Grace, but it did no good. His shouts and flailing arms were no match for a sweet, unarmed human woman.
Torr charged the Hunter.
The creature charged Grace. Torr had been in enough battles to know how this one would play out. The Hunter would slam into her, slicing her in half instantly. Torr was too far away to do more than watch. No matter how hard he pushed his legs, the distance between them seemed to stretch out, leaving an impossible length to cover in a couple of seconds.
In the blink of an eye, he remembered every achingly sweet moment they’d shared. He remembered the first moment his paralysis wore off and he was able to stand again. All he’d wanted to do was find Grace and share the good news with her, to sweep her up in his arms and hold her as he’d craved to do for so long. Since he’d met her, his whole world had revolved around her visits, her touches. And now, because he couldn’t run just a little bit faster, he was going to lose her.
He gathered as many tiny sparks of energy as he could and used them to speed his stride. The sting of that power coursed over his skin, but it didn’t matter. He still wasn’t going to be fast enough.
Torr shouted, “Get back!”
Grace backed up three long steps until she was teetering on the edge of the cliff. The creature realized too late what lay on the other side of its prey. It tried to slow down, but the shiny serrated paws slid through dirt and leaves like they were water.
She took one more step and fell from the cliff just as the Hunter toppled over the edge. Their screams mingled for a split second—hers filled with fear and the Hunter’s a harsh, alien howl.
Then her scream stopped abruptly, and Torr knew Grace was gone.
Chapter 9
Torr went completely numb. He couldn’t believe what Grace had just done. She’d leapt from the cliff. Killed herself to take out one of the creatures. Killed herself to save him.
She was so insanely selfless, throwing her life away as if it meant nothing. How could he have let her do that? How could he not have seen this coming? How could he not have known she would gladly trade her life for his? Again.
He should never have let her come out here with him. Fuck what Brenya had said about gaining her trust. He should have locked Grace inside one of those huts, wrapped up in a soft cocoon of blankets so she couldn’t get so much as a paper cut.
He stumbled to the edge, praying that the drop wasn’t as steep as it seemed, or that there was water beneath to cushion her fall.
She couldn’t be gone yet—not when he’d just gotten her back.
He braced himself for what he might see and peered over the edge. The shattered remains of the Hunter lay strewn on the far bank of a narrow river. Jagged scrape marks and chunks of black glass were embedded in the opposite cliff, where it had hit as it fell to its death. Below, the edge of the river had begun to freeze.
There was no sign of Grace on the banks below, no sign of her bobbing in the churning water.
“I’m here.” Her voice came from his left, strained and weak.
Torr held his breath, afraid he’d imagined the sound.
“Over here.”
This time he was sure he hadn’t imagined it.
She sat on a narrow ledge of rock about eight feet below the edge. There was blood on her bare legs and more running down her cheek. Dirt covered her skin, along with several cuts and scratches. Leaves clung to her hair, which was a wild, tangled mess. Even so, she was the single most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
She was alive. The sheer power of his relief knocked him on his ass. He sat there, weak and shaking as a tidal wave of gratitude flowed through him.
Grace was alive. Nothing else mattered except his burning need to keep her that way.
“How badly are you hurt?” he asked, his voice shaking with emotion he couldn’t control.
“I’m sure it’s not that bad. Just give me a minute and I’ll try to get up.”
Climb up and risk falling again? Fuck that. “No. Stay there. I’ll come get you.” As soon as he stopped shaking so hard. If he tried it right now, he was going to get both of them killed. He needed a minute to collect his wits and regain the strength in his limbs. The thought that he’d lost her had been enough to render even a strong man like him weak.
From the b
reathless quality of her voice, he could tell he wasn’t the only one scared shitless by her stunt. “There’s another way down here other than the one I took. Just follow the edge for a few more yards around the curve and you’ll see a natural ramp in the stone.”
“Okay. Just stay still and I’ll be down as soon as I can. I need to take care of unfinished business.”
She nodded, her body already slumping with fatigue as the effects of the adrenaline wore off. If she was more seriously injured than she looked, shock wasn’t going to be far behind.
Torr pulled himself together, pushed away from the ledge and went back to where the Hunter was trapped in the tree trunk. He cut himself a long section of branch about the length of his arm and skinned the smaller twigs away, leaving him a nice thick club.
With a firm two-handed grip, he got as close to the thrashing creature as he dared and swung right for its head.
The beast shattered, its grating scream dying with it. Bits of glassy black chips showered over him. A few left shallow slices along his exposed skin, but the sting barely registered. All that mattered now was Grace.
• • •
Grace tried to still the trembling in her limbs. She wasn’t cold anymore, but she couldn’t seem to keep from shaking.
Nervous energy tumbled out of her core with nowhere to go. She couldn’t even stand and walk it off—not with what was probably a sprained ankle.
The fall she’d taken hadn’t been very far down, but in that moment her life flashed before her eyes.
With only four years of memory, it was a sad, lonely thing to witness.
There was more to life than what Brenya allowed her, and from this moment on, Grace wasn’t going to let anyone stand in the way of her experiencing it. Weak or not, human or not, she was going to find her place in the world and milk every drop of happiness she could from life. No one was going to stop her.
Torr’s steps sounded from behind her, much too fast for the narrow ledge he traveled. Before she could even scoot around enough to tell him to slow down, he was at her side, his big hot hands gliding over her.
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