Chapter 3 Beyond the Gates #2
Grim steps forward, the motion sudden and predatory. His eyes narrow. “She doesn’t understand,” he says, the words dripping with disappointment.
Bran glances back at him, then at me. “It’s all right,” he says. “She will.”
Shade finally moves, his voice a thunderclap in the quiet. “Bring her,” he orders, black eyes unblinking.
The air snaps. I feel the energy crackle from one man to the next. Grim closes in, stopping on my left. Bran stays to my right. The rest circle, not quite touching, but close enough I can smell them—sweat, smoke, wildness.
They inch me toward Shade, the space between us closing little by little until he’s right in front of me. He looks down at me, a full head taller, his expression unreadable.
He reaches out, his hand wrapping around the back of my neck.
“Don’t be afraid,” he says, echoing Bran, but with a command in it that makes my body sing. He leans in, so close I can feel his breath on my ear. “Your father has no place here, Raisa. You don’t belong to him. You belong with us.”
Every part of me knows it’s true. My mind rebels at the thought of belonging to strangers, but my body has already surrendered.
I close my eyes and let the world spin.
I feel them with a clarity that makes every second seem endless. Their eyes, their bodies, their breath. The heat of their skin sears me even when it doesn’t touch. It’s all I can do to hold myself together.
Bran’s hand drops away from my cheek, but the ghost of his touch lingers. The others shift, their focus tightening on me until it’s almost unbearable.
I try to speak, to say something brave or at the very least dignified, but my lips are numb. My voice is missing. All I can do is stare as Bran and Grim close in, like twin moons orbiting too close.
Grim is different up close. More dangerous, more beautiful, more alive than any person I’ve ever seen. His tattoos move with the flex and ripple of muscle beneath his skin. There’s something wild in his eyes, some wolfish glint that says he’d eat me alive if I let him.
He circles, slow and deliberate, forcing me to turn so I never lose sight of him. The others follow suit, moving in tandem like a hunting pack. Even Bran—who was so gentle—seems predatory now, like something feral lurks just under the surface.
“Why are you here?” I manage, the words thick and clumsy. “What do you want from me?”
Grim laughs, soft but savage. “You already know.” He says it like an accusation, like I’ve already failed some impossible test.
I bristle at the word, at the way he spits it. “No, I don’t.”
He bares his teeth, the canines a little too sharp. “Want a demonstration, Princess?”
“Leave her alone, Grim,” Bran says, his voice a warning.
Grim ignores him. He leans in, close enough that I feel the heat of his breath. “You know what they say about the forest, don’t you?” he whispers, his lips almost touching my ear. “All sins are equal here.”
My knees threaten to buckle. I’m not sure if I want to run or lean in closer.
Shade hangs back like the last line of defense between me and the night. He stands perfectly still, his black eyes never leaving my face. He doesn’t need to move to command attention—he just exists, and the world bends around him.
I catch movement out of the corner of my eye, Talon, massive and beautiful, rolling his shoulders like he’s warming up for a fight.
Sable and Rune, smaller but no less lethal, trade a look and then focus on me like I’m something to be dissected.
Onyx stands off to the side, quiet, but there’s a tension in the way he holds his jaw, a careful control that’s more intimidating than any show of violence.
Every one of them is waiting for me to do something.
I lick my lips, my nerves screaming. “What happens now?” I ask, desperate to keep my voice from shaking. “Do you…kidnap me?”
“Kidnap you? No,” Bran answers. “We aren’t your father. You decide your own fate here.” The words sound innocent, but there’s something behind them—a promise, or maybe a threat.
Grim tilts his head, his gaze raking over me. “You’re not afraid.”
It isn’t a question, but I answer anyway. “I am,” I say, surprising myself with my honesty. “But maybe I’ve spent too long being afraid of the wrong things.”
He likes that. I can tell by the way his eyes flare, a flash of green fire.
Bran steps in, closer than before, but this time he doesn’t touch me. He just looks, really looks, like he’s seeing through my skin to the bones beneath.
“You want to be free, Raisa,” he says. “That’s what brought you out here.” It’s not a question, but a confident statement, as if he knows me as well as I know myself.
My mouth goes dry, words dying in my throat. How could he possibly know how desperately I ache for freedom?
Sable, lounging against a fallen log, grins at me. “Don’t worry, pretty bird. If you come with us, we promise to be a lot more fun than your father’s council.” His voice is teasing, but I hear the hunger in it.
“You’ve been watching me,” I say, realization spiking through my brain like a hot poker of fury.
“Obviously,” Sable laughs, low and musical.
The world lurches. I think I might faint. But at the same time, there’s a thrill to knowing they’ve been spying on me that feels like stepping off the highest tower, unsure if you’ll fall or fly.
I stare at the group, at each man in turn, and finally at Shade, who hasn’t spoken since he told me that I belong to them.
“Why?” I demand.
His eyes are impossible to read, but I sense that everything in this clearing happens because he allows it. He’s the force that holds the others together.
He finally uncrosses his arms, taking one slow step toward me. The air gets warmer, or maybe that’s just the way my body reacts to his presence.
“Because we protect what’s ours, and you are ours,” he says, his voice so deep I feel it in my bones.
Something in me wants to agree, but I’m my father’s daughter, even if I hate him, too stubborn to give in easily. If I did, I wouldn’t spend so much of my time locked in the tower.
“No,” I say, but it’s the weakest denial I’ve ever uttered.
Shade’s mouth curves, not quite a smile. “You can lie to yourself, Princess, but not to us. We know you feel us in your bones, the same way we feel you.”
The others close ranks around me, not threatening, but enclosing, making it clear I couldn’t leave if I tried.
Bran softens, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from my face. His touch is so gentle it undoes me.
“Why me?” I whisper, choking on the words. “Why not someone else?”
Rune answers, eyes gleaming silver in the moonlight. “Because you’re special.”
Onyx, silent until now, nods. “We need you, Raisa.”
“For what?”
Bran doesn’t hesitate. “To finish what you started.”
“I…I don’t understand.”
Grim’s voice is a whisper, half-kind, half-cruel. “Magic listens in this forest, Princess. You should be careful what you wish for.”
I’ve wished for so many things, wanted so many things. Is he trying to tell me that they’re the forest’s way of answering? That it…brought them to me?
They close in before I can find an answer, and I realize with a thrill that I want them to. I want to feel their hands on me, want to lose myself in whatever they’re offering. I want them to be my answer.
It’s not what a princess should want. It’s not what I should want. But I do anyway.
I try to back away, but my feet catch on the roots of the tree, and I stumble. Bran catches me, steadying me with one hand on my waist. Grim is at my shoulder, his fingers sliding over the bare skin there. Talon moves to block my path, grinning, and Sable darts in close, his breath hot on my neck.
I’m surrounded, pressed in on all sides, their bodies nothing but heat, muscle, and hunger. My lungs can’t pull enough air. My skin is on fire.
Shade waits until I’m hemmed in, then takes my chin in his hand and tips my face up.
I can’t look away. I don’t want to.
His grip is gentle, but there’s no mistaking the power behind it. He drinks me in, and for a second, I think I see something in his eyes, something desperate and old and so lonely it breaks my heart.
“Don’t be afraid,” he says again. This time, it’s a plea.
He slides his hand into my hair, fisting it at the nape.
I gasp, the pain sharp but not unwelcome. My mouth falls open, and I wait, trembling, for his lips to crush mine.
I wait for the world to end.
It does, but not the way I expect.
Just as his lips brush mine, there’s a roar—steel on steel, shouts echoing through the trees. The clearing explodes in chaos. Dozens of men, armor clattering and swords raised, pour from the darkness, lanterns swinging in their fists.
“Princess Raisa!” someone roars. “Get away from her!”
The spell is broken.
The men around me react as one, a wall of muscle, aggression, and instinct.
I’m yanked backward, rough hands closing over my arms, my waist, and the back of my neck.
For a split second, I can’t breathe. I’m crushed between Bran’s chest and Grim’s bare, inked shoulder.
Sable and Talon spread out, forming a perimeter. Shade never lets go of my hair.
My father’s guards hesitate, forming a half-moon around us, blades shining in the torchlight. I see their faces, read the fear and confusion. But mostly, I see the way they avoid looking directly at Shade and the others, like they’re wild animals, not men.
I try to pull away from Bran, but he just tightens his grip, so gentle and firm I want to scream.
“Let me go,” I gasp. “They’ll kill you.”
“Not likely,” Sable murmurs, his grin as sharp as the knives at Talon’s hip. “They’re not even aiming at the right targets.”
He’s right. The guards are shaking, barely keeping formation. I know these men. I’ve watched them train since I was a child. They’re the kingdom’s best, but they look like children themselves next to the men holding me.
Shade’s hand on my scalp is all that keeps me standing. His other arm wraps around my front, caging me. His voice is a low growl against my ear. “Don’t move, Princess.”