Wild Lands (Savage Lands Book 2)

by Stacey Marie Brown

  Gunshots licked us, one almost taking out a tire. Warwick’s attention drifted to the perfect position the caravan had above us on the switchback lane.

  “Warwick!” I screamed, pointing ahead at a truck up the road, coming for us, headlights bouncing, taking up the entire stone archway of the guard gate. The man behind the wheel noticed us too late.

  “Fuck!” Warwick yanked the bike to the side, the tires skidding, his leg stepping out to keep us upright as he stopped us from colliding with the vehicle. He looked ahead, and I followed his gaze. I could almost see his face, feel his smirk, feel the decision clicking into his head.

  “No.” Fear sucked the air from my lungs. “No. Fuck. No.”

  “Come on, princess, where’s your sense of adventure?” his voice whispered from behind, like a ghost, leaving residue, sticky and warm, though what he was thinking was impossible.

  Bang!

  A bullet clipped by our heads, ending any other thought than our immediate situation.

  Warwick tugged me closer as the bike ground toward our only exit.

  “Fuckfuckfuck.” I tucked into him, gripping with my muscles so tightly it hurt.

  The bike hit the crumbling stone stairs heading down to the river, no longer used by tourists, nature having reclaimed the unused path. My body jolted as the bike struggled over the loose terrain, the weakened steps disintegrating, slipping as we headed down the violent bumps. My teeth crunched together, my brain like scrambled eggs. The thick vines took payment as we passed, cutting through my cotton pants and shirt like they were warm butter, then slicing into my limbs and face.

  Closing my eyes, I curled into Warwick’s broad, muscular back, trying to ignore the lashes of nature’s whip. I concentrated on his heartbeat, his warmth, his rich woodsy smell that trickled down my throat like a swig of the best whiskey I could ever taste, easing my breath, pushing everything away as if it were a dream.

  Everything disappeared except him. A sensation of calm claimed me, like I was on another plane. My brain flashed with an image of a screaming baby, coated in afterbirth, the night sky igniting in vibrant colors above the baby, then it switched to a man lying motionless in blood-drenched grass. Warwick… his eyes closed, his form black and burned, his neck at an unnatural angle, the same night sky cracking and glowing over him.

  Bang!

  Shots cut through my reverie, my lids bolting open, the images dissolving faster than they came, slipping through my fingers like they never happened. With my world back to the present, my head snapped around to see a few guards aiming guns at us from the bottom plaza, their guardhouse close to the dock where people could step into Killian’s realm.

  We hit the bottom of the stairs, my head pounding from the brutal terrain as more slugs whizzed at us, nicking our legs. They clearly weren’t trying to kill us but slow our advancement.

  Warwick tensed, a growl vibrating his throat, his head set with determination. He hit the accelerator, driving the bike through the throng of men, forcing them to jump out of the way.

  Zigzagging slightly to miss their bullets, we were about to curve around a corner.

  Pop!

  The back tire hissed, tugging the bike down like we were driving through mud.

  “Fuck.” Warwick growled, his head twisting down to look at it. He gave the engine more gas. We couldn’t stop. Panic pounded in my chest as the bike lagged while air continued to slip from the tire.

  “Hold on, Kovacs,” he yelled, drawing my attention forward, where locked gates loomed ahead of us.

  Groaning under my breath, I strung my arms around him tighter, once again hiding my face in his shirt, his warm skin feeling like the safest place in the world. Revving the motor, he tried to enhance the speed, the motorcycle struggling at the demand, not quite barreling us toward the twenty-foot metal gate.

  Please be old and not magically locked.

  The front of the bike slammed into the gate, the impact reverberating through the metal and blasting into my bones with an audible crack. My head snapped back and then forward, digging into Warwick’s spine, pain zinging up my nerves so forcefully I swore I could feel his body screaming with agony.

  The shredding noise of twisting metal sliced into my eardrums as the lock snapped, the chopper forcing the gate to bend on its hinges. Destroying the front of the motorbike, the gate finally gave, coming apart, and with it, a tickle of magic crawled up the back of my neck.

  The sight of another set of stairs made me whimper. He grasped the handlebars firmly as we bounced and crunched down the short flight, the back tire blowing out completely as we hit the bottom and exited onto the main roadway.

  Horse carriages squealed, horses neighed, motorcycles and a few cars honked and swerved as Warwick skidded the dilapidated bike onto the busy street. The odor of burning tires made me gag.

  This side of the river was much more up-to-date on magic-designed automobiles, though far more horses and carriages trotted in the slow lane than autos.

  The sight and smell of the Danube kissed my face, my eyes tearing up. The sun slipped completely over the horizon, HDF glowing brightly from across the river, a beacon of hope in the distance. Once again, I was so close I could feel it, but I knew we were far from safe.

  A piercing squawk jerked my head up to the sky, and I spotted a hawk heading for us. Of course. Not only were hawk-shifters some of the greatest hunters, this one came with a personal vendetta. Nyx. That bitch hated me.

  “We have company,” I warned, wishing we could go faster. The flapping tire was starting to shred, and the bridge to the Pest side felt farther and farther away. Warwick grumbled under his breath.

  Nyx swooped down, sharp claws scraping my scalp.

  “You bitch.” I swiped at the air with one hand, feeling her feathers slip by me again. Her loud screech was filled with rage. While she dipped and clawed at me, Warwick turned the bike toward the Chain Bridge.

  “Fuck.” Warwick’s tone filled me with dread. I sought what had made him react. When I did, despair filled my stomach, hollowing out my chest.

  “No,” I whispered. I couldn’t bear being this close again and not making it.

  In the middle of the bridge, which separated the sides, was a blockade right on the dividing line. Only a few guards stood around an SUV. They scrambled together, pointing their weapons at us. It was enough to stop us.

  I could hear the motorcycles of the guards coming behind us, the hawk-shifter circling over us, the blockade in front, and prison coming down around me again. I had been living in a shiny prison, the glitter distracting me from the truth—I was still a captive. Now that I was out of the palace, I tasted my freedom.

  “Go.” My voice came out cold and determined.

  “The chances of us getting past them are less than zero. We have no weapons, a bike barely moving forward, and only two of us.”

  “I don’t care.” My knees dug into his thighs. “I won’t go back. Better to die free than live a life in a cage.”

  Squawk!

  Nyx dove for us again, swooping across Warwick’s face. Her first and last mistake. A hawk might be a hunter, but the legendary wolf was a predator, his attack quick and lethal.

  His hand plucked her from the air like a striking snake. Bones crunched and snapped as his large palm crushed her neck, then flung the carcass on the ground.

  My mouth hung open. The speed and detachment with which he could kill stirred both awe and fear deep in my bones. I hated her. She had tormented me and beat me, but seeing the corpse of the woman who lost her lover scarcely one bridge down cracked grief into my heart. A poetically sad ending for them both.

  “You feel bad for her.” Warwick’s head snapped back to me, his brows crunching together. “Why?”

  “I-I… Wait, how did you know I felt bad?”

  He blinked at me, his mouth opening, but before he could answer, gunfire rang out from behind. The guards from the castle gained on us, not caring about innocent pedestrians in the way.

/>   Warwick’s lids narrowed to slivers before swiveling back around. “You ready, princess? We might be dying on this bridge as well.”

  “Yeah.” I relaced my arms around his torso, feeling oddly calm. “You and I have already died a dozen times. What’s one more?”

  He turned his head enough for me to see his profile, his eyes darkening, the intensity like a capsule around me where I could forget death waited for us in the middle of the bridge. We were riding the lethal line between safety and peril.

  I should have died when my mother gave birth to me. When I was shot in the back. In Halálház, many times. From the pills Killian had given me.

  Death seemed to reject us both, letting us slip by. So, if this was when it finally took its claim, the price for all the leniency…

  So be it.

  I would die free.

  Chapter 7

  Burning rubber and gasoline scorched my nostrils as mushrooms of smoke swirled and clotted the air, the motorcycle protesting the advancement, ready to end its journey right here. But as if Warwick commanded its allegiance to him, the bike surged forward, giving its last effort, heading into battle with everything it had left.

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  Gunfire pinged off the road and metal of the bike, the front wheel hissing as a bullet tore through it. Chaos filled the night like untuned violins, shredding the air. Guards bellowed from ahead and behind, the squealing of the tire rim sending sparks into the night sky.

  I heard the sound of flesh being hit, and Warwick’s spine curled forward with a grunt.

  “Warwick!” Grabbing for him, I sought the source of his wound on his side and covered it with my hand, trying to limit the oozing blood. A painful piercing dove through my own side in the same spot, as if I could feel a bullet tear through my flesh, forcing a gasp from my lips. I reached down but found nothing there.

  Warwick slumped forward, almost falling off the bike.

  “No!” My hands clutched him harder to my chest, trying to keep him upright, his body and the bike swaying. Warm blood flooded my palm from the wound.

  My panic was so deep it felt as if something came and scooped out my insides, dumping them on the pavement, leaving me cold and empty. The idea of losing him barreled into me like a train. No. Not this close to freedom.

  Adrenaline twisted my senses, making every sight, smell, and sound tangible against my skin, but strangely from far away as well, as if nothing could touch me. The feel of Warwick’s bulk pressed into mine; his heat wrapped around me like a shield. Once again, he felt as if he had climbed inside me, slipping through my skin like he had the right to consume me, to give me the pain he was feeling. I only plunged deeper, shoving away all logic and following an instinct I didn’t even understand.

  “You do not get to die. Not today,” I muttered over and over. My hands didn’t move, but I felt a strange sensation that I was grazing his skin, everywhere, weaving in and out, circling his wound. The agony in my body was so painful and tight I could barely breathe and thought I might pass out. I swayed, almost tipping off the bike, but Warwick’s hand wrapped around me. A deep growl vibrated through him, rocking against my chest. His head lifted, his shoulder rolling back. Regripping the bike handles, his muscles tightened.

  The guards ran around placing gates to barricade us, wanting to stop us from crossing the invisible line between the sides.

  A roar thundered deep from Warwick as he pressed the accelerator to the max. I tucked into him with a gasp. The barrage of bullets and yells strangled my throat with fear. The crippled motorcycle plowed into a makeshift fence they’d put up. The bike squealed and moaned, hitting the barricade, the impact flinging us into the air. My bones crunched as I hit the pavement, rolling, and the asphalt tore my skin. I whimpered as pain volleyed through every nerve.

  My body had hit a curb, my head spinning, my stomach filling with nausea. Blinking, I stared up at the early evening stars, twinkling and growing bolder. Beautiful and peaceful, impartial to the battle below.

  Kovacs…

  I felt more than heard my name glide over and through me, jolting my head.

  Pushing myself up, my head spun, my throat thick with bile. Pain sizzled along every inch of me, but I was still mostly numb to the true agony permitting me from moving. When I did so, I took in the massive figure lying several meters from me.

  “Warwick,” I grunted. Struggling to my feet, I hobbled over to him. It was then I realized there was no longer any gunfire, no guards seizing me. My head snapped to the men only meters away, standing at the painted line on the bridge as if an actual wall blocked us, their guns lowered, their faces full of horror…

  Because we did it. We somehow made it past them. We were safe. Unless they were willing to start a war.

  Margaret Bridge and the Chain Bridge were the only bridges divided between fae and HDF. The other ones were treated as neutral territory and “gray” areas. Between these bridges, the two sides resided, silently challenging each other. Only the divide of the Danube kept them from shoving each other like bullies on a playground. I felt it would be only time before one took the first swipe. And I didn’t want to wait and see if today was going to be that day.

  “Warwick?” I wheezed, dropping beside him. His shirt glistened with blood, saturated and dark around the gunshot, though it no longer seemed to be oozing blood. His face was masked in abrasions, cutting into his beard, painting his dark hair auburn. Road burn stamped over his skin like a branding iron. His lids closed, his chest barely rising, as another shot of adrenaline shot through my veins. “Wake up!” I shook him.

  Nothing. “Warwick!” I shook harder.

  Behind us, a guard spoke into a walkie-talkie. “What do you want us to do, sir?” His voice came from behind me, and it was as if I could feel Killian through the contraption, a link to the man I had just betrayed. Fear thudded at the base of my neck.

  One word, and they could forget the fragile treaty they had with Istvan. Not losing me might be worth it.

  “Get the fuck up, Warwick!” I gritted through my teeth. In terror, I slapped his face, trying to stir him. A grumble rose from his chest, but his lids stayed pinned together.

  “Wake. Up!” I demanded, my palm pulling back to smack him again. His hand darted up, his fingers wrapping around my wrist, stopping me in a blink. His sudden movement hitched my breath with an audible hiss. Aqua eyes opened, blazing up into mine.

  Something about the moment whooshed a strange sense of déjà vu through me, capturing the air in my lungs like a vault, setting me back on my heels. But as fast as it came, the image slipped away, not letting me hold on to anything.

  “I enjoy it rough, but don’t think now is the appropriate time, princess.” A smirk twitched his cut lips.

  I let out a breathy exhale, closing my eyes briefly in relief, determination set on my brow.

  “Come on.” I bit down painfully as I rose to my feet, helping him up. His massive body leaned into mine, swaying while he tried to get his feet under him. Both of us were torn up from the crash, blood dripping onto the cement from our wounds as we took steps away.

  Oddly, my right side ached the most, as though I was the one who had been shot.

  Warwick should have been unconscious if not dead from the bullet. We both should have been. “Guess death didn’t want us today either.”

  Gripping me, he turned to glance at the busted bike, our escape vehicle lying on the ground, shredded and twisted, leaking its fluids.

  “It took one of us as payment,” he muttered, then swung us back around. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Both of us hobbled off the bridge as a crowd lined up at the Pest end, watching the drama unfold in front of them, their mouths open in either awe or fear.

  The fae sentinels stayed silent behind us, letting us amble away. I felt uneasy that Killian would let the two of us go so easily. He seemed to think humans were below him. Why did he bother with the treaty?

  A cool breeze whipped at my knotted,
grimy hair. The throng parted, letting us pass. Briefly, I peered back, seeing the palace lights glow from the other side. The place, which held me for weeks, appeared picturesque and powerful on the hill, a silent beauty. Yet I could feel in my bones a change in the delicate line of truce HDF and the fae had been walking for years.

  I had upset the balance and tipped the first pin over.

  “You are a conundrum, Ms. Kovacs. A wave crashing into everything. Twisting, breaking, and flipping all upside down the moment you enter.”

  “A single drop of water can be the one that breaks the dam.”

  Warwick and I trudged our way north, my muscles feeling heavier every moment, as if I were taking on Warwick’s hurt and pain as well as my own. Turning the corner, the wall of Leopold stood a couple hundred yards away, the main gate coming into view. My eyes clogged with tears of relief and happiness. I made it home.

  Warwick stopped, my attention jerking to him.

  “What? We’re almost there.”

  “You are.” He peered down at me. “I did my part.”

  “What?” I could hear commotion stirring at the gate, voices and movement from people alerted to our presence, but it all was background noise when I looked up into Warwick’s battered face.

  “You are home and safe.” He nodded, stepping away.

  “But… you’re hurt. Let our doctors look at you.”

  “I’m not welcome here anymore than I was welcome on the fae side.” His voice slid over me while his boots took him a few more steps away. “Don’t mention me. You’ve never seen or heard of me.”

  “What?” I sputtered, feeling a stab of his rejection. “How can I not? You saved me.”

  “You are pretty capable of saving yourself… if you had wanted to.” His eyebrow rose as he receded deeper into the shadows.

  With the immediate fear and danger gone, the memory of what he did, the deep betrayal… I stepped back, anger bristling my neck. “Don’t accuse me of something when all I was trying to do was survive.”