The Dryad’s Embrace (Woodland Beasts #1)

1. Lorraine

Chapter One

Lorraine

T he bag over my head smelled sour, and my breath was a hot fog around my mouth. My breathing came in ragged gasps, way too fast. I felt lightheaded.

I focused on my breathing, forcing myself to take slow, even breaths. I was going to hyperventilate if I didn’t.

I took two big gulps of sour air before I gagged.

The truck I was in bounced over something, and I fell to the side. I cried out and tried to catch myself, but I couldn’t with my bound hands, especially when I couldn’t see anything. I tried to see through the loose weave of the burlap sack that had been pulled over my head, but the back of the truck had to be dark, too.

My heart hammered in my chest, threatening to explode. My stomach was a knot of fear.

The truck rumbled beneath me as it sped up and slowed down for the turns I couldn’t anticipate.

Everything had moved so fast. Oscar had woken me up in the middle of the night.

“They’re here, Lorraine. Wake up!”

“Who’s here?” I asked, blinking open gritty eyes. “What time is it?”

The night was thick around me. Light from the front room fell through the bedroom door.

“Come with me,” Oscar said.

“Where?”

“Please, Lorraine, you’re the only one who can save me.”

I frowned, waking up more. My mind was sluggish, struggling to make sense of what was going on.

“I lied to you,” Oscar said as I got out of bed and pulled a robe over my shoulders.

“About what?”

“The gambling… I’m sorry. I said I would stop, but I just… I couldn’t. They’re here for payment.”

I shook my head, my stomach sinking with dread. Cat had been right all along. My sister had told me Oscar hadn’t stopped, but I’d decided to believe him. I’d wanted to believe that he’d changed.

A leopard doesn’t change his spots , my mom said in my head.

What would she have said now?

I pushed the thought of my mother out of my mind and stepped into the living room. Four men stood in a half-circle around the coffee table.

“Ah,” one said. “It’s about time.”

“What’s going on here?” I asked.

“Oscar has a debt to settle with us.”

“How much?” I asked.

“More than we can afford,” Oscar said.

I shook my head. Whatever it was, we could make it happen and figure out the rest later.

“Are you ready to pay up?” the man asked.

“We are,” I said. “What number are we talking about here?”

“It’s not a number I can make,” Oscar said. When he looked at me, his eyes were guarded, his face filled with an expression I couldn’t decipher. “I’m sorry.”

“We’ll figure it out,” I said. “We just have to?—”

“She’ll do fine,” the man interrupted me.

The other three nodded, wicked grins on their faces. They looked me up and down, eyes roaming my body.

I suddenly realized how exposed I was, wearing the oversized T-shirt I usually slept in and the robe I’d pulled on. I pulled the robe tighter around my shoulders.

“Come on,” one man said. “Let’s get out of here.”

He walked to me, and I stepped back. He grabbed me by the arm and yanked me toward the door.

“Unhand me!” I shouted, trying to wrestle free. “Oscar!”

I twisted around, looking over my shoulder to see if Oscar was okay, if they were attacking him, too. If we fought together, we could get out…

Oscar wasn’t fighting. He stood to the side, looking dejected. He pursed his lips, his thick dark hair a mess like he’d been pushing his hands into it.

“Oscar!” I shouted again when they dragged me toward the door. “Oscar?!”

“Are we square?” Oscar asked, turning to the man.

“What?!” I cried out. “Oscar! What’s going on?”

He didn’t look at me.

“We are,” the man said. “Feel free to join us again. If this is how you pay, we’re more than happy to do business again.” He grinned a row of yellowed teeth at me, his smile dripping menace.

I fought back, kicking, screaming, clawing, biting.

“Bitch!” my assailant groaned when I elbowed him in the stomach. I almost got away, but another wrapped his arms around me, pinning my arms to my side. I was small and thin, no match for a big, burly POS like the guy who lifted me off the ground with ease. I kicked my legs in the air.

“Oscar!” I shouted again.

“Shut her up,” one man said. Tape covered my mouth a moment later. A bag over my head followed, and I was plunged into darkness.

With my sight taken from me, I strained my ears. I mumbled against the tape over my mouth, screaming for Oscar to help me, to stop them, to help me get free.

“What will you do with her?” Oscar asked, finally showing a sign that he cared at all.

Too little, too late.

“That’s none of your business,” the answer came before I was wrestled out of the house and into the cold night.

Adrenaline pumped through my body, and I fought as hard as I could. Someone hit me over the head when I wouldn’t stop fighting. My head spun, disorienting me.

I heard the sound of a car door opening.

I tried to run, to get away. I stumbled and fell, got up, tried again. My head throbbed wildly, but all I could think was that I had to escape.

“Stop her!” someone shouted, and thick arms grabbed me again. I tried to fight yet again, but another blow against the head made my body go limp, pain coursing down my neck and shoulders. My head spun.

A final blow brought complete darkness.

Now conscious again, I ruminated over what happened. Oscar had sold me to pay off his debts. The knowledge was an acrid taste in my mouth. Tears rolled over my cheeks, and I sniffed. I held back the sobs, refusing to cry.

I loved him. I’d thought we were together in this, fighting the blows the world offered. He’d been there for me when my parents had died. He’d helped me raise Cat. She’d only been sixteen, and in the four years that had followed, I’d seen us as a family.

Apparently, we weren’t. Family didn’t do that to each other. Oscar wasn’t family. Not after this.

What was going to happen to Cat? My little sister was my ward. She was old enough to fend for herself now, but I’d always looked out for her.

Would Oscar sell her, too?

Dread filled me, and I tried not to fall apart. I fought to keep it together. Cat had a good head on her shoulders, and as soon as she found out I was gone, she would think clearly. She trusted Oscar—we both had—but she’d known he was still gambling even when I hadn’t wanted to believe it.

What would he tell her? I hoped she knew better than I did not to fall for his lies.

The truck hit a bump in the road, and I lurched to the side again, falling to the floor. How long had we been driving? How long had I been out? Where were they taking me?

I doubted it was anywhere good.

Another bump knocked my head against the floor, and I felt dizzy, the pain from the previous blow flooding back.

Slowly, I became aware of a shift in the truck.

The door creaked, banging against the side of the truck. It sounded like it had opened. I frowned, feeling the wind against the bag over my head as the door swung back and forth with the truck’s motion. The door banged as the truck sped on, swinging shut and swinging open again.

I crept closer and closer to the door. I tried to time the bangs. It wasn’t rhythmic, but I could tell when the door swung all the way back and hit the side of the truck before it swung back again.

When it banged in front of me, I grabbed onto my courage and threw myself against the door.

I fell out of the truck, and hit the ground hard. It winded me, and I lay on the ground, gasping for breath, as the sound of the truck retreated. I couldn’t breathe—my lungs felt like they were going to implode.

I rolled onto my back, opening and closing my mouth like a fish out of water. I was suffocating, terrified, unable to see anything.

I threw my arms up over my head, and air rushed into my lungs as I gasped for air. The sour smell of the bag over my head made me gag again, and I clawed at it with my bound hands. I got my hand underneath the bag and yanked it over my head. I fumbled with the tape, my fingers peeling off a corner, and I ripped it off. I cried out as the tape pulled my skin, making my lips burn.

I threw the tape to the ground and tried to take deep breaths, gulping down air. My stomach contracted, bile pushed up my throat, and I threw up. I retched until my stomach was empty before I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and looked around.

I was in the middle of a deserted dirt road with a forest on either side. I had no idea where I was, or how far I was from home.

I looked up and down the road. Which way had the truck gone? Which way was home?

Around the bend, the headlights of a car appeared.

“Help!” I shouted, stepping forward. “Help me!”

The car sped toward me. It came closer, and my knees buckled, my body sagging with relief that someone could save me.

When the car was almost next to me, I realized it wasn’t a car, but a truck. Oh no. The men in the truck weren’t going to help me—they’d come back for me when they’d realized I’d escaped.

No!

I turned around and ran into the forest. My mind switched off as I ran, my body taking over. My breath rasped in and out of my throat, screams and cries escaping my lips. With no clue where I was, I had no destination in mind, I just knew I had to get away from them.

They were out of the truck. I heard their shouts between the trees, their heavy footfalls as they chased me down. I tried to swallow my screams.

I stumbled over roots and fallen branches. Shrubs and low-hanging branches scraped against my arms and legs.

Whenever I tripped, I fell to the ground. I sprawled between the dead leaves and mulch before I scrambled to my feet again.

They were right behind me, their shouts and cries growing louder. My heartbeat thrashed in my ears, and my chest was tight. I struggled to breathe.

I kept running, looking over my shoulder to see how close they were. I couldn’t see any of them through the trees. For some reason, I couldn’t hear them anymore either, but I kept running. No way could I allow them to catch up with me.

I began to wonder if terror was the only thing chasing me, nipping at my heels, threatening to take over. If anything, that only spurred me on.

I ran deeper and deeper into the dark forest. I couldn’t see anything anymore—the leaves above were so thick they blocked out the dim light of the moon.

My foot caught on something, and I fell again. When I tried to scramble back up, a hand wrapped around my ankle.

“No!” I screamed.

The hand pulled me backward, dragging me through the mulch. I clawed and thrashed and screamed, but the grip around my ankle was like a vise. I screamed again before the hand dragged me away.