Survival, a YA Paranormal Romance (The Guardians of Vesturon Series, Book #1)

by A.M. Hargrove

  I had never seen this many stunning people in one place. They all seemed to have a glowing aura around them. As captivated as I was, I could no longer keep my eyes open.

  I drifted off into a deep slumber, and for the first time in a while, I felt completely at ease.

  When I awoke, I was alone, floating in a pool of warm water. I could see a waterfall in the distance. It felt like hands were holding me so that floating was completely effortless. I felt entirely calm and at peace again. “Where am I?” I wondered.

  A voice, or more like a sensation, floated back to me, telling me I was safe.

  That’s not exactly what I wanted to hear. Deep down I instinctively knew I was safe. I had no feelings of any imminent danger. I was just curious and wanted to know where I was.

  “But where am I?”

  “All of your questions will be answered soon. Please be patient with us. You sustained severe injuries, and the important thing now is for you to get better. Let the waters calm and heal you.”

  I felt myself drifting off again.

  I awoke in another place that had a cave-like appearance. I was lying on a very soft, and comfortable, bed of fur. I was cocooned in warmth and felt very drowsy. The strangest part of all was that I didn’t question anything, but instead, I felt entirely at ease. The beautiful woman I saw earlier came toward me with a cup of liquid.

  “Drink this. It will help ease any pain you may have.”

  “Can you please tell me where I am?” I inquired.

  “You are in the place of the Nunne’hi. We are deep in the caves of the great mountains. We are Spirit People. Once you gain some strength, we will tell you more.”

  “How long have I been here?”

  “You have been here for forty-two suns and moons.”

  Forty-two days! What in the world happened to me that I have lost all track of time? I was unbelievably shocked.

  “Do you have any memory of what happened?” she asked hesitantly.

  I thought about that question for a while. My memory was clouded with images. I could remember flashes, bits and pieces mostly, of hiking and running and suddenly, I gasped and put my hands to my face.

  I saw an image of that hateful, evil man. I remembered that awful knife arcing toward me, and the devastating blows to my face, head and body. I reached up to my face. My jaw was only slightly sore but not the way it hurt before. The wound on my cheek had healed; I could feel where the deep gash had been.

  “Ah, I see you are remembering,” she said as she reached for my hand to comfort me. “We have done as much as we can here, but you still have injuries for which we cannot help you. We are waiting for The Guardian to arrive. He is the one that brought you here, and he will be able to complete your healing,” she informed me.

  “The Guardian? What’s that? And what other injuries?” She had a look of pity in her eyes, and I gathered she did not want to answer my question. She didn’t say as much; I could just sense it.

  “We will speak of this later, when you are stronger. Please drink this to help ease your discomfort.”

  I soon drifted off into a deep sleep again.

  I awoke to voices, and this time I could comprehend them.

  “She is mending nicely. Her wounds from the arrows are all but healed. Her face has healed as well. The spinal injury is what we are most concerned with now. One more thing, my lord, you should know. She carries ‘the mark’ on her back.”

  All the memories flooded back in an instant, drenching me. They were so powerful that I felt like someone had landed a severe blow directly in my solar plexus, completely knocking the breath out of me. The strangers must have heard me gasp because several people came running toward me. I was caught in the memory of it all and started trembling and screaming. It was so horrific that I couldn’t breathe.

  I remembered my abductor’s face with intense clarity those dreadful eyes, his clothing, his deranged laughter, but mostly the knife and crossbow. I knew I was crazed, but I couldn’t stop because I was caught in the backlash of the images as they poured forth. The strange and beautiful people had surrounded me and were trying, without success, to comfort me.

  I wanted to run away from this place, but I found that I could not move. Something was pinning my legs down, restraining them, imprisoning them. My arms began flailing, and I jackknifed my torso, trying to break free of the restraints, but my lower body would simply not respond to my mental commands. Dear God in heaven, I was paralyzed!

  I heard someone screaming, and I wanted it to stop. The noise reminded me of a wounded animal; it was earsplitting and unnerving. It never occurred to me that I was the one producing the horrific noise.

  Suddenly, the strangers moved aside to make way for another person. I became aware of someone touching my arms. Then came soothing words in a language I didn’t understand.

  “Madeline, look at me!” he commanded.

  I ignored him, still squirming and trying to free myself. I felt like a trapped animal.

  Louder still he commanded, “Madeline, look at me! Look into my eyes!”

  I was shaking my head from side to side, not wanting to see this person who held me prisoner.

  I felt him firmly take my chin in his hand and again order, “Madeline, I command you to look into my eyes!” He placed his hand on my forehead, and I felt the inability to ignore him. The fight in me simply fled. Every muscle in my body screamed to obey him, but then as quickly as that feeling came, I heard the word, “Release,” in my mind, and the feeling disappeared.

  Oddly, I instantly felt peaceful and calm. I no longer felt the terror that had only moments before held me in its grip. Then, something else bizarre happened. I inhaled deeply, and my senses were filled with the most wonderful of fragrances. It was the forest of pines again—that delicious woodsy, earthy scent. I felt my nostrils flaring with the intensity of it. My curiosity had me now, so I dared allow myself to look at the person responsible for this tranquility.

  I lifted my gaze, and my eyes locked onto an exceptionally tall boy. No, not a boy at all, or not like any of the boys with which I hung out. This was a man of the likes I’d never seen—an incredibly amazing man.

  His long and wavy thick black hair brushed the tops of his broad shoulders, and he had one long, thin braid hanging down past his chest, which looked strangely out of place. A lock of his hair hung down his forehead, and my fingers itched to brush it back in place.

  His facial features looked like they had been drawn by a brilliant artist, and then molded to perfection by the most talented of sculptors. Everything was perfectly shaped, but his mouth was absurdly beautiful. His full and sensuous lips grabbed my attention and refused to release it. I suddenly had visions of touching them and tasting them. Whatever was I thinking? I had never been affected by anyone like this…ever!

  I suddenly had this irrepressible urge to reach out and touch him. I found myself doing exactly that before I realized it. I quickly snatched my arm back, and I could feel my cheeks burning with heat. I squeezed my hands into fists, my nails biting into my palms. For some reason, my arms seemed to have a mind of their own because it took everything in my power to keep them tightly clenched on the blanket that covered me.

  Then, he graced me with the most amazing smile, flashing a set of impossibly perfect teeth flanked by the tiniest of dimples. I felt hypnotized by it, yet I had the sense that he was uncomfortable smiling, like it was out of character for him. There was only one way to describe him, drop dead, devastatingly gorgeous. I just stared at him openmouthed and speechless.

  When I finally regained some of my senses, I was able to tear my eyes away from his lips. If I thought his mouth was perfect, then there would never be words to describe his eyes; they were mesmerizing or maybe hypnotic or quite possibly the most amazing things ever created. I was thoroughly transfixed by them, more so than even his lips. Rimmed in black, his irises were a shade of green I had never seen before, virtually iridescent in color. I felt I had
fallen into deep pools of shimmering emeralds. Huge and surrounded by a thick fringe of obsidian lashes, they were impossibly breathtaking, but more importantly, they spoke to me.

  Safe…I am safe with this man! That’s what they told me.

  He didn’t just fill space; his formidable presence infused it. I absolutely could not stop gazing at him as I felt myself drowning in his essence, losing any trace of coherent thought and barely able to breathe. This man exuded sheer strength and power.

  “Please know you are safe with me. I will protect you and let no harm come to you. I am a Guardian, and I swear this to you.” His voice was deep and rich and sounded like a perfectly orchestrated symphony.

  Only by sheer force of will was I finally able to tear my eyes away from his beautiful face. It was then I noticed how strangely he was attired.

  He was encased in black, from the shirt he wore underneath his long, flowing cape, to the boots that came up to his knees.

  The backs of both hands were covered in unusual gray metallic plates that ended at his wrists. I didn’t know if these peculiar objects performed some kind of function or if they were simply adornments. In any case, they covered his hands from the base of his fingers, over his knuckles and then narrowed to his wrists, encircling them.

  His mannerisms spoke volumes. This man was in charge. He didn’t speak; he commanded.

  His hypnotic gaze captivated me. Again, I had this unrelenting urge to reach out and touch his perfectly shaped lips.

  “Do what you will. I will not bite,” he said in a rich deep timbre with a trace of an accent I couldn’t place.

  I was confused by his comment, as I didn’t know what he meant. In a timid whisper, I stuttered, “Wh-what?”

  “Touch me.”

  It was a command versus an answer. I had the feeling he was ordering me to do it. Noticing my confusion, he continued in a soft, husky tone, “My lips. You have a desire to touch my lips, and I was telling you that it was agreeable to me if you did,” he explained. His voice was so rich and so sexy.

  Then, he did the weirdest thing. He took my hand and placed my fingers upon his lips. I flinched—not from his touch, but from the current of electricity that flowed through me.

  His lips were warm and soft, and I was simply dying to place my lips where my fingers rested. Sweet baby bunnies, who was this man, and what was he doing to me? He was impossibly fascinating. My fingers ached to explore every inch of his lips, face, hair, but I was mortified by these explicit feelings of mine. I rapidly changed the subject as I snatched my hand away.

  Before I could even think, I impulsively blurted out, “Are there not any ordinary looking people here? Where in the hell am I? Why are you all dressed so weird? Will somebody please tell me what’s going on?”

  I saw the corners of his mouth slightly twitch, but thankfully, he didn’t laugh. He didn’t take his hands away either. He must have been afraid my pathetic hysterics would begin again.

  “The answers are yes; no, not hell; we always dress as such; and yes.”

  “Huh?”

  “You inquired of me…” he said as he leaned towards me, the corners of his mouth turning up. There it was again. That forest-like scent came wafting up from him.

  I interrupted him. “Stop it. Now you’re toying with me. And I’m sorry I said, ‘hell.’ It isn’t proper,” I managed to contritely eke out, when all I wanted to do was to lean into him and inhale.

  “Who are you? And please don’t touch me,” I said in a rush, my rude attempt at hiding my embarrassment.

  He removed his hands from my arms, and I immediately felt a great sense of loss, as if I’d been doused with a lethal dose of anxiety. I thought to myself, God, I really must be going crazy.

  Then, he said in his authoritative tone, “My name is Rayn Yarrister, and I am known as a Guardian. There is much you need to be told, and from your reaction just now, I assume you overheard us discussing your condition. Madeline, you must trust me when I tell you we are here to help you. You have suffered grave injuries, and you have much healing to do. The Nunne’hi found you on a small ledge on the side of the mountain. You had been severely wounded. Do you remember what happened?”

  “What is a Nunne’hi?” I interrupted him again.

  He sighed before answering. I sensed he wasn’t used to being questioned, nor did he have much patience. He didn’t want questions; he wanted answers.

  “The Nunne’hi are the Spirit People of the Cherokee Nation. Not many people are aware of their existence, but their main purpose is to help those in need that come into these mountains. They heard your calls and came to you. Do you remember anything at all?”

  “Some things very vividly, and others are kind of cloudy. And how in the world do you know my name? Are you going to kill me or wait, am I already dead?”

  Maybe I was caught between the two worlds. I was having serious trouble distinguishing fantasy from reality.

  “No, Madeline, you are not dead, and we do not wish to kill you. We wish to save you,” he said, exasperation tingeing his voice as he raked his hand through his lush head of hair.

  It was nearly impossible for me to pull my eyes away from this magnificent man.

  He arose from the bed, although it wasn’t really a bed. It was more like a raised platform of some kind. I tried to inspect it more closely, but I couldn’t seem to tear my eyes away from Mr. Outrageously Beautiful and Smells Like Heaven. He went over to the other people in the room and asked them all to leave.

  “Let me start at the beginning, Madeline,” he said in that rich, velvety, sexy voice as he took a seat next to me.

  “Maddie,” I said. I began to feel the panic and trembling setting in.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “My name. I’m Maddie. It’s short for Madeline.” I was now trembling so hard that he could also feel it. I rubbed my arms trying to stem the shaking.

  “Oh, Maddie it is then. Give me your hands,” he commanded.

  What an odd thing to say.

  “My touch can make you feel less anxious. Come, give me your hands.”

  It was not a request but a command. I wasn’t sure what he meant by relieving my anxiety, but at this point, I was shuddering so badly that I could only nod my head. He grasped my hands in his, and within seconds, I felt an inexplicable relief sweep over me.

  “Gosh, that feels so good.”

  I felt complete alleviation of my anxiety first, and then, a sense of pleasure washed over me. I felt calm, happy even.

  “What are you doing? How can you do that? Is this some kind of mind game? Hey, you’re not a vampire or something? You’re not using that glamour stuff on me are you?” I asked, desperate for some kind of explanation.

  “No, not a vampire, and I know not what this ‘glamour’ is. Let us say it is a talent I have.”

  “Wait, you’re not one of those weirdos that practice black magic or…hey, you’re not a devil worshipper are you?” I was highly suspicious of this man. Things were all too abnormal here.

  He actually had the audacity to laugh at me!

  “No, Maddie, I am nothing close to black magic, nor do I worship the devil. I am definitely not a vampire or werewolf for that matter,” he explained, still laughing.

  “Shapeshifter?”

  “Sorry, afraid not.”

  “Well, I had to ask. I’m really confused right now. Not to mention, you have some strange ways about you. Your clothing for instance. I feel like I’m at a Halloween party.”

  “I know I must appear a bit unusual. Now that your anxiety has lessened, I want to offer you some answers and explanations. Maybe it will help with your confusion. But, first, do you remember what happened to you?”

  “Like I said, I can remember some of it. I think I dreamed about my mom, other bizarre stuff too, like balls of light changing into people. I thought I was dead. You know, the bright light and all?” I searched his face for recognition; none was there, total impassivity.


  “Can you tell me anything else about what you remember?” he asked, as he continued to grasp my hands.

  Chapter 12

  I didn’t want to even think about my ordeal, much less talk about it, but I knew I owed these kind strangers an explanation.

  I began, hesitatingly at first, telling him about my backpacking trip on Christmas Day. Once I started recalling the incident, I couldn’t seem to stop the words from tumbling from my lips.

  I put a hand to my cheek for a moment, to feel the place that had been lacerated. As I did, I flashed back to that second in time, and I could see that evil man’s face clearly. I began to see everything in slow motion, reliving it.

  I felt like I was in a trance, though I must have been speaking. I could feel Rayn’s firm and comforting grip on my hand. Surprisingly, I remained calm enough to tell him everything.

  “I remember thinking how weird it was that I only felt the throbbing on the side of my face where he hit me, but that the knife wound didn’t really hurt. Then, I could feel the blood, and I thought how warm it felt because my face had become cold from the winter air,” I spoke, barely louder than a whisper. I let my mind wander a bit, and it drifted back to that night. I bit my lip, as the images of what happened flashed in my mind. I tasted blood on my tongue.

  “Go on,” Rayn urged.

  I drew in a deep breath and swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat, threatening to turn into a river of tears. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, clenching them, forcing the images away. Then I continued recounting, focusing on the large, elegant hand that tightly held mine. Though there wasn’t much to tell, I found it greatly disturbing, particularly when I relived the part where the arrows pierced my leg and chest. I suddenly felt like I was going to be sick and he was there helping me, as if he read my mind. I was acutely aware of his touch because every time he released his hold on me, I felt strangely lost and empty. It was all so confusing. I thought I must’ve been losing my mind. When the storm passed, I lay back and looked at him.

  “Are you better now?”

  “I’m not sure if I’ll ever be better.” I shook my head, trying to make sense of all of this. “In any case, I don’t remember much after that, except,” I shook my head trying to clear it, “talking to my mom who died years ago,” I concluded. I stared at my one hand that clutched the blanket that was covering me. I could see the whites of my knuckles I was squeezing it so hard. This Rayn was still holding my other hand.