Chapter 22 Into the Woods #2
Her thoughts had been consumed with escaping danger that she hadn’t thought about what came next, or what they would need once they were free.
She had no means to buy anything, nor to repay Damien for all he’d done.
Nervously, she fidgeted with the saddle horn, her attention moving to the ring she still wore.
Perhaps she could use it to offset some of the cost. “I’m not sure how valuable this is, but I can sell my ring to help pay for everything. ”
“No.”
She blinked. “What do you mean ‘no’?”
“I mean no,” Damien said with a dismissive wave.
Luna’s mouth hung open, but she had no words. Would he use his magic to steal things? Would he expect her to? “I won’t steal,” she blurted out.
A laugh burst from Damien’s mouth, followed by coughing as he tried unsuccessfully to stifle it. Luna glared back at him until he finally answered, “I don’t expect you to steal, and I don’t want your money.”
“You don’t sound like you’re jingling with coins. Let me help by selling my ring.”
“Have a bit of faith in me, Luna.” He twisted in his saddle to face her, a grin tugging at his lips.
“I wouldn’t go travelling empty-handed. I have enough to make it there.
” It seemed like that would be the end of the discussion, but then he added, “Besides, I wouldn’t be very dreamy if I let you sell the only valuable thing you have. ”
Mr. Dreamy. She had called him that back at the tavern; that night seemed like ages ago, the memory someone else’s.
She clucked her tongue to the top of her mouth, a faint smile on her lips. “I suppose not.”
Time ticked by, and the skies above darkened.
Luna hadn’t slept at all the previous night with everything that had happened, and her eyes were having trouble staying open.
“I’m tired,” she finally admitted, shifting her weight in the saddle, acutely aware that she probably wouldn’t be able to walk once she got off the horse.
“I’ll find us a spot to camp for the night soon.”
Despite what he said, they continued travelling.
The stars guided them towards their destination until it became too dark to carry on.
With Barley still in motion, Damien swung his leg over the saddle and swiftly dismounted.
He took the reins in one hand and gave Barley a pat on his neck. “We’ll rest here.”
Luna nodded and tried to move her legs, but they refused to cooperate.
A frustrated sigh slipped from her lips.
Why did she always end up as a damsel in distress around Damien?
It needed to stop. If she was going to live the normal life she’d always dreamed about, she needed to become more independent, more capable.
She could do this. Getting off a horse couldn’t be too hard, could it? Sure, she sat pretty high up and had never dismounted before, but jumping was easy. She could do that.
Trying again to imitate his dismount, she swung her leg—which felt more like dead weight than muscle—over Pickles’s back. Turns out jumping was hard, but falling? Falling was rather easy.
Her boots hit the ground first, but the impact sent a jolt up her legs.
For a split second, she thought she had it .
. . until her knees buckled, and she collapsed unceremoniously onto her bum.
A sharp sting shot through her as she hit the dirt, and she sucked in a hiss, exhaling hard in an attempt to force the pain out.
Damien looked down at her, a half-amused, half-worried smile on his lips; his hand was held out for her to take. “You okay?”
Admitting defeat, she accepted his assistance. “Just not used to riding.” On cue, her legs wobbled, knees buckling again, and she fell into him. He stood sturdy, as if he were a tree rooted into the ground, his arms around her torso, steadying her against him.
A few strands of hair had fallen in front of her face, and he brushed them back, tucking them behind her ear. Such a simple gesture that shouldn’t have carried any deeper meaning to it, yet her heart fluttered in her chest. Why was everything he did so alluring?
She stared up at him, her eyes wandering the forest hidden in his irises, noting the small flecks of amber and brown hidden within.
He shook his head, releasing a long, breathy sigh as his arms fell to his sides.
The spot where he’d been holding her went cold, the absence of his touch stark against her skin. A foolish part of her wanted to feign a fall just to feel his arms around her again.
“You’ve got to stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?” Her forehead creased.
He fiddled with Barley’s saddle, adjusting a strap that didn’t need adjusting. “Like I’m some knight in shining armour.” His voice was barely audible, as if he were confessing a sin.
She jerked her chin back, like he’d slapped her across the face. “It’s hard not to.”
“You should try.” His hands stilled on the saddle. “I’ve had enough of that look to last a lifetime.”
Luna frowned. “I don’t understand.”
He gave the strap a final tug, freeing the saddle and turning away to place it by a fallen tree. “Forget it.”
Her brows knitted together, but she said nothing, watching as he freed Barley from the bridle.
“I don’t want to mislead you,” he finally said, moving to Pickles and undoing the buckles of her tack.
“After you transformed and knew what you were, I should never have let you out of my sight.” His voice was quieter now, each word measured.
“There’s a reason why I came to that little human kingdom.
And when you find out why, I don’t think you’ll be pleased.
” He glanced at her as he carried Pickles’s riding equipment and set it by Barley’s.
“I thought I could do what I came here to do and protect you at the same time—but I failed, and I’d rather you not put me on a pedestal I don’t deserve. ”
Luna remained still, looking a little dumbfounded as she processed his words; she didn’t know if she had the ability to treat him indifferently.
Damien passed her bread and cheese from Barley’s pack, which she quickly began to eat and tear into.
Aching hunger was new to her, and she hated it.
This meal would tide her over, but it hardly compared to the meals back home.
Not that it’s home anymore. Never again would she have her mother’s cooking—the thought turned the food bland, and she struggled to choke the rest down.
She looked towards Damien, only to find him by the water’s edge, his back to her—shirtless.
Biting her lip, her gaze swept over the broad expanse of his shoulders, down the lean planes of his back.
Moonlight carved deep shadows across his muscles, highlighting every ridge and hollow.
Scars wove across his torso: Some were silvery and faded, others dark and fresh, like he’d fought a hundred battles—maybe he had.
A low grunt startled her and heat flooded her face as she realized he’d been talking. More than a little flustered, she scrambled for words, but they caught in her throat, coming out as an incoherent mumble.
His lips curled in a slow and knowing smile. “I’m gonna wash up,” he repeated, “to get rid of the remaining powder. You should do the same. This stuff is a dead giveaway that we’re unicorns.”
Right. Her arms were mostly clean, but better safe than sorry and caught.
By the time she reached the water’s edge, Damien had already stripped and stepped in. As he waded around, his muscles shifted with the current. She tried to keep her breathing steady as she wondered if he knew the effect he had on her . . . or if he cared.
Damn it. She was staring again.
Not wanting to be caught ogling again, she tore her gaze away, yanking off her clothes and ran in.
She yelped as cold water splashed against her legs and belly, shocking her to her very core.
The river was outright freezing, like they were in the grips of winter itself.
In only a few short gasps of breath, her fingers had turned to small blocks of ice against her breasts.
Damien spun around, his magic spreading outward like rays of black sunlight. “Get behind me,” he commanded, his voice a near growl.
Well, this is embarrassing. Sheepishly, she admitted, “The water’s really cold.”
Silence.
And for a split second, she almost wished there had been an enemy; at least then she wouldn’t have to face the fact that she’d startled him over something as trivial as cold water.
“You can’t be serious . . .” he muttered, though his voice trailed off as his eyes landed on her.
Heat bloomed across her skin; only one person had ever seen her naked before. To her surprise, his gaze didn’t linger, didn’t even peek at her barely covered unmentionables. Like a perfect gentleman, he turned away, and she nearly pouted in response.
The heat between her legs demanded attention, so she dove under the water, trying to smother the feeling; holy smokes—cold!
Luna surfaced and her teeth clacked together as every muscle in her body tensed.
Quickly, she scrubbed, dunked her head, and dashed out.
Still dripping, she yanked on her clothes, which clung to her, damp and uncomfortable, but it was better than freezing.
Somehow, Damien was already dressed, lying in the grass. Luna huffed, mildly disappointed that she’d missed the view. “Comfy?”
He didn’t open his eyes. “This is as close to a vacation as I’ve gotten in years.”
“You know, now that you mention it . . .” She dropped beside him. “Nothing is as relaxing as being hunted by people who can suppress magic and want us to serve them.”
He cracked an eye. “Are you saying you’d like to get back to riding?”
“Skies above, no.”
Damien chuckled, glancing towards Barley who was grazing by the trees while Pickle dozed nearby.
“Normally I’d make a fire about now,” he said, his gaze returning to her, “but if anyone is close, it’d lead them directly to us.
We’re pretty far away from the Grythorn palace, but we’re still not safe yet. ”
His words should’ve brought relief, but all she could think about was how much she missed home. Even after all the lies, she still loved her family; not knowing if they were okay was its own kind of torture. She hoped they weren’t being punished for her choices.
Though she hadn’t been harmed at the ball, witnessing death changed something in her: Diera’s lifeless body, Venita’s headless corpse—those images would never leave her.
“All I ever wanted was to be normal, but now . . . I don’t even know who I am, let alone what normal for me actually is.”
His expression softened, the subtle shift making her self-conscious. However, he offered nothing but reassurance in his reply. “There’s no rush to figure out what you want in life. Once we get to safety, you’ll have all the time in the world.”
He was right. Her existential life crisis could wait.
She nodded her head and closed her eyes.
Accustomed to the silence of her room, the chirping crickets and other creatures calling and rustling in the brush kept her awake.
It didn’t help that the forest floor was cold and nothing like the comfort of her warm, luxurious bed. But eventually, sleep claimed her.
She was back in the ballroom, this time dancing in Damien’s arms. As the tempo slowed, his eyes found hers, and there was such tenderness in his gaze that she felt herself dissolve into it.
He leaned in, pressing his full lips to hers in a kiss that was gentle, sweet—everything she had ever wished for.
Then he changed, his body morphing into Clyde. “You’re so stupid,” he jeered. “The whole lot of you are weak and pathetic. I’ll be glad when the king kills every unicorn.”
She shook her head, begging him to stop—but he didn’t. She tried to scream, only to learn her lips were sealed, as if someone had taken string and sewn them shut. Panic rose and she clawed at her mouth, desperate to speak, to fight.
A sharp pinch to her arm snapped her awake. Above her, a large muscular figure loomed, his hand covering her mouth, muffling her cries. She thrashed, swinging and kicking until—
“Shhh.”
Familiar warm baritone notes threaded through the dark. “You’re having a bad dream, but it’s over now. You’re safe with me.”
She stilled, and after a moment, Damien removed his hand from her mouth. “You good?”
Most definitely not, but she nodded her head. “We were dancing,” she whispered. “You turned into Clyde . . . and he said such horrible things.”
The muscle in his jaw twitched. “Want me to go back and remove his tongue?”
“Kind of.” The very thought dissolved the tension in her body. “Does that make me a terrible person?”
“There’s nothing you could do that would make me think that.”
He pushed off the ground, rising to his feet.
He meant it. He would really go back to exact her revenge if she asked him to.
Luna reached for him, grabbing his wrist to pull him back. “Don’t be silly.”
He hesitated—his fingers flexing—then slowly, cautiously, he interlocked them with hers.
She exhaled, her voice barely more than a breath. “Please.”
A quiet war played across his face in the dim light; his lips parted like he wanted to say something, but instead, he gave in. His arm ghosted around her shoulders, pausing for a breath before pulling her close. Even then, he held her like glass, as if unsure of how he should comfort her.
Clutching his arm, she held it to her chest, grounding herself in his warmth.
With a quiet sigh, he adjusted, gently guiding her body to rest against his. She fit into him like she’d always belonged there, like a key clicking into place.
His breath stirred her hair. “It’s okay to be scared. Just know you don’t have to be.”
She believed him more than she had ever believed anything in her life. With him, she felt safe—probably because he was more dangerous than anything she feared.
Her hand found his chest, putting her palm over his heart. “Why . . .” The question caught, too fragile to finish. She swallowed and tried again, softer this time. “Why help me?”
He gave her a gentle squeeze, and in that quiet gesture, she was reminded of what he’d said—he didn’t want to be her hero. But how could he not be? He had saved her . . . and was still trying to help her even now.
She hated how much she needed that, needed him. Even without her illness, she still felt so vulnerable.
Before sleep took her, she thought she heard him quietly speak, but she couldn’t be sure she hadn’t imagined it: “I’ve been asking myself the same thing. I don’t think I really had a choice, though.”