Chapter Twenty-Four
ABBY
I HATE THE feeling of Kie’s arm around me, but it’s a small price to pay to not be eaten alive.
Mason stalks ahead, his bulking animal form weaving effortlessly through the trees. He’ll occasionally disappear altogether, but he almost always reappears within a few minutes. I get excited when he vanishes—hoping maybe he’ll be attacked and killed while he’s alone—and my stomach roils with disappointment when he inevitably returns.
I don’t think my heart can take much more disappointment today.
It still pounds when I recall how Mason and Kie stripped and forced me into the river, and my mind keeps replaying the horrifying moment despite my best attempts to stay focused. These two men were able to control me so easily, and while Mason appeared to feel guilty for a brief moment, it didn’t last.
There’s no way the faeries know what their princes are truly like—especially Kie. They speak so highly of him, giving him heaping praise he doesn’t deserve. I’m disgusted.
Mason weaves in front of us, his powerful legs propelling him forward before he turns to Kie and waves his giant head to the left. He’s been doing this for the past thirty minutes, jerking his head in the direction he wants us to walk.
Kie tightens his grip on my waist, practically carrying me.
He’s soaking wet, dampening my sweatshirt in all the places he’s pressed against me. I hate to admit it’s doing a good job cooling my overheated skin. I’m nervous, scared of what will happen if the shifters find us, and those nerves are making me sweat.
Mason guides us forward a few more feet before disappearing into the woods again. I try to track his movements, but even when he’s in my line of sight, it’s hard to spot him. It’s terrifying how stealthy such a large animal can be.
It’s unnatural.
My legs shake, and my knees threaten to lock up with every step, but I force myself to continue moving. As much as I hate Kie touching me, I must admit he’s the only reason I’m still upright.
Mason was absurdly rough with my knees, and they’re struggling with the near-constant battering. I turn, peering at Kie from the corner of my eye.
“Have you heard of delysum?” I blurt out.
I don’t know what compels me to ask—a desperate need to think about anything other than the fact that he and Mason forcibly bathed me and now we’re trying to evade a group of shifters. The forest has no magic, which I can only assume weakens Kie.
Why isn’t he drinking the tea to sustain his strength? Does delysum not grow wild here? Did I misunderstand what Samuel said?
Kie’s grip on me tightens, and even through my sweatshirt, I can feel his fingers digging into my side.
“Why do you ask?” Despite our current predicament, there’s caution in his tone. I’ve said something I shouldn’t have. I know that immediately.
My throat runs dry, and I chew at the inside of my cheek as I try to think of a convincing lie. I should’ve asked Samuel about the flower when I had the chance. He was kind, and I doubt he’d have made a big deal about my asking.
I still wish he had been my mate. I wouldn’t be in this current predicament if he were, and I’d probably already be back home with Lill by now. The two of us would be planning my inevitable move to the faerie realm to live with Samuel, and it would be so romantic. I’d be trying to convince her to come with me.
“What do you know about delysum?” Kie asks, his voice low. “Why, exactly , are you in the forest?
Mason returns, a low rumble pouring from his throat as he skulks up to us. I instinctively coil against Kie’s side as I catch sight of the shifter’s sharp teeth, my gaze immediately locking in on them. As much as I dislike Mason, I’m secretly glad he’s on our side.
Kie lets out a whispered curse and comes to a hard stop.
“We’re not done discussing this,” he says, pulling me toward the nearest large tree.
I suppose this is my cue to start climbing.
“Take these,” Kie says, shrugging his and Mason’s bags off his shoulders.
He shoves them against my chest, and I scramble to wrap them around myself before turning toward the tree he’s planted me in front of. It’s giant, the trunk probably one of the widest I’ve ever seen. Several good climbing branches are sticking out of it, but the lowest is well above my head.
I reach up, my fingers grazing the bark on the underside of the lowest branch before I lift on my toes and try to get a firmer hold. I haven’t attempted to climb a tree in years, but I don’t remember it being this complicated.
I manage to wrap my hands around the branch, but that’s about as far as I make it. My upper body wasn’t made for this, and I try and fail to lift myself before dropping back down. I underestimated just how hard this would be.
Kie lets out a loud sigh. I ignore it.
“For fuck’s sake.”
Hands curl around my upper thighs, and I squeak as I’m lifted straight into the air. My legs flail, and I kick around as I climb onto the lowest branch. Kie grunts as my foot slams against his sternum, but he otherwise remains silent. I can’t see what Mason’s doing, but the near-constant, low growling I hear from below tells me he’s nearby.
Have the shifters found us?
My heart races, and I scramble to balance before reaching for the next-highest branch. The gap between this one and the last is significantly smaller, making it easier to climb. Kie remains below with Mason, and when I look down, I realize they’re both watching me climb.
“How high do I need to go?” I ask.
Kie glances at Mason, but the shifter is no longer paying attention. He’s busy stalking around the tree’s base, his every movement calculated and deadly. Even from this height and distance, he’s still fucking terrifying.
“I’ll tell you when to stop,” Kie decides.
That’s not helpful, and I wipe my sweaty palms on my leggings before making my way up the next branch. I highly doubt this tree will do much to stop a motivated shifter, but I’m not inclined to argue that point.
I continue climbing, ignoring the burning in my muscles. My arms haven’t had this much of a workout in years, and they aren’t going to be happy with me tomorrow—assuming I make it to tomorrow.
Mason’s grumbling grows louder, the deep noise vibrating up my spine. It’s not directed toward me, but it still causes every hair on my body to stand.
Within a minute or two, I’m so high up, I can’t bring myself to look down. I’m not particularly afraid of heights, but there’s a good chance I’d break several bones if I fell from this height. Climbing up is always the easy part, too, and I’m trying hard not to think about the inevitable climb down.
I pull myself up onto another branch, my chest heaving. I’m sticking as close to the tree trunk as possible, practically hugging it for additional stability. The branches are thinning, though, and I’m nervous they’ll soon bend underneath my weight.
“That’s good!” Kie shouts up.
I’m shaking, and I straddle the branch I’m currently on before daring to look down. The ground is farther than I thought it would be, and I’m so far up that I can barely make out Kie and Mason’s forms in the dark. They blend in, and I squeeze my eyes shut before turning to look at the moon.
I’m going to die out here.
I can’t see what’s happening below, so I strain to listen. Mason’s still growling, his noises growing in volume, but Kie’s silent. Where are the shifters? I look for them, but it’s too dark to make out anything. My flashlight is in my bag, but I don’t want to draw attention to myself by turning it on.
A few excruciatingly long moments pass before I hear something.
It’s far off in the distance, but it’s distinctly similar to Mason's rumbling noise. I press myself further against the tree trunk, desperately hoping to blend in with the foliage. My knife is at the bottom of my bag, but I’m afraid the shifters will hear me unzipping the bag and rummaging around.
The far-off rumbling grows louder as the shifters near, and I sink my teeth into my bottom lip as thundering footfalls follow. It sounds like heavy paws hitting the ground. I try to count, wanting to know how many shifters are coming, but the thumping blends together.
Mason grows loud, no longer attempting to remain quiet.
I thought his noises were frightening when he attacked and pinned me to the ground yesterday, but it’s nothing to what he’s making now. He’s easily three times as loud, and the noise is so deep, it sounds like it should be coming from a bear instead of the wolf he looks like.
Kie is still silent, and I wonder if he’s climbed up a tree of his own.
Without magic, I doubt he’ll be of much assistance in a fight.
As far as I’m concerned, he’s in just as much danger as I am, if not more. The shifters hate the faeries, and vice versa. I’m sure they’ll be delighted with the opportunity to kill the crowned faerie prince.
I know I would if I were in their position.
There’s movement below, the occasional flash of what is maybe fur, before I hear a snarl and the gut-wrenching sound of two animals colliding. It’s loud, and I resist the urge to cover my ears as wet smacking and pained whines float up the tree.
It sounds like the fighting is happening directly below me, which is far from comforting.
Why didn’t Mason lead them away? That would’ve been the kind thing to do, but he’s drawn them right to me. It’s probably insurance that I won’t run away. I’m sure as hell not going to climb down and sneak away while those things are right below.
A bloodcurdling whine echoes into the dark, and my tree trunk is jostled as something barrels into it. I don’t want to know what caused a tree this large and steady to sway.
Are the shifters trying to climb it?
I peer through the foliage below, but I still can’t make out much.
I briefly spot a pair of green eyes looking up at me, but I can’t tell if it’s Mason. His eye color is distinct, and these match, but it could be a shifter trait like the violet eyes for faeries.
I look around for those violet eyes, eventually finding them at ground level. He’s down there, helping Mason fight? That’s a death sentence if I’ve ever seen one.
I clutch a backpack to my chest, needing something to hold. I’m glad I’m dehydrated. Otherwise, I’d probably be pissing myself right about now. It would be leaking down the tree trunk in a steady stream.
The sounds below are sickening—crunching, squelching, whining.
It’s probably for the best that I can’t see the details.
It sounds like there are several shifters below, but the number seems to be decreasing. The amount of distinct whines and snarls is dropping at an alarming rate.
I assume Mason or Kie are still alive. If they die, it’s probably only a matter of seconds before one of those shifters transforms into their skin form and climbs up the tree to drag me down.
There’s another whine, this one louder than the last, before everything goes silent.