Chapter 1
Annoyance, fury, or sorrow—Kira couldn’t decide which emotion was the most dominant stuck between Hunter’s arms as they rode on his horse.
The familiar scent of him and home attempted to pull on her heart strings, but to no avail. She couldn’t be swayed by nostalgia when the life that was offering her peace and contentment was miles behind her and growing ever more distant.
Hunter’s chest was hard and warm, and even without laying a hand on him, she could tell that every muscle was tense and unyielding from their rigid stance. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that he was tense because of her—having to hold someone he loathed as much as he did.
She didn’t have any idea what he was planning for her fate, but she knew that it wouldn’t be kind or gentle.
Instead, it would be full of cold vengeance, which she assumed he had meticulously planned out and would want her alive to see it through.
It was the only reason he wasn’t riding her to the nearest cliff and simply tossing her into the sea.
Or, perhaps that was exactly what he was doing.
She didn’t have any sense of direction in the woods, so they very well could be riding to her gravesite right then.
Anxiety pulsated through her body, finally turning on her survival instincts.
She strained against his arms, trying to free herself from their strength and memories.
“Be still,” he hissed. His arms tightened around her and his thighs squeezed her hips so that she couldn’t move so much as an inch.
“Let go of me. Now,” she ordered. Her cheeks heated in embarrassment, knowing that she should have made the demand long ago. It had been too shocking, too all-consuming to be face-to-face with Hunter again.
He said nothing, and the horse kept galloping forward.
She tried again to move against his stern hold, but she felt her own muscles tiring before he ever so much as flinched.
Kira dug deep within herself, grabbing hold of her anger through all the shock and confusion that came with being kidnapped by her ex-betrothed.
“What do ye even want from me? I have nothing for ye, Hunter. I havenae any power or leverage, or even gold of my own. I have nothing ye could possibly want—”
Icy laughter filled the air around her, the sound coming from deep within his belly and roaring from his mouth. Her cheeks heated more, embarrassed by the fact her earnest words had invoked such a reaction.
Then, there was hot breath on the shell of her ear.
“Ye have taken everything from me, Lady Kira. And I will return every wound ye helped carve into my heart all those years ago. So dinnae sell yerself short,” he said, the final words almost a purr in his ear.
“Ye have the most valuable thing of all to me: retribution.”
A shiver forced its way down her spine. She couldn’t be certain what he meant by that, but if she dared to use her imagination… Well, being tossed into the sea would be merciful in comparison.
Any more requests for freedom were silenced in her throat before ever reaching her lips. All she would do was provoke him—and she deserved some of it, but she wasn’t going to tempt fate by prodding at his righteous anger.
They rode for quite some time until they finally arrived at an all too familiar sight, a place that was etched into the foundations of her childhood: Galbraith Keep.
It was a much more angular, darker castle than most of the fortresses of the day.
As a child, the structure had reminded her of a black cat with its aloof, dark elegance.
But right then, it looked more like a toothed trap used in hunting with its pointed towers and slanted roofs.
When they passed through the gates, memories attacked her senses.
The hill that Hunter and Kira rolled down after breakfast as young children and the maids screeched after them not to dirty their attire.
The sound of hooves on cobblestone, as she had heard frequently in her upbringing when they came to visit; and back then, it had felt like the thumping strides had matched her erratic heartbeat.
And the smell of rosemary that seemed to always cloak the entire Keep. The late Lady Galbraith had despised insects and had each path, entry, and garden bed lined with rosemary plants to deter the creatures. The scent was synonymous with Galbraith Keep to all who visited.
These weren’t memories for her to reflect on fondly anymore. She had given up that right six years ago. And it was proven to be the case when they approached the castle stairs and the servants looked at her not with the affection they once had but glares filled with contempt.
Hunter pulled her off the horse effortlessly. She stared at all those who hated her most in the world and a castle that was as foreboding as it was tender in her heart. Kira couldn’t shake the feeling she would never leave there alive if she stepped foot inside.
He shoved at her back, willing her forward, but Kira’s head was shaking vehemently from side to side. She used all of her might to keep her feet rooted to the ground.
“Release me. Release me, Hunter! Dinnae do this!” she shouted. Only, her anger and fear gripped her words in a way that they came out more like a command than a plea.
With a huff, Hunter snagged her wrist in his grip and forced her to come with him up the stairs.
Step by step, she fought against his strength, her toes ramming into the stones and her heels scraping against their edges.
He was too strong, too rugged by life and training while she was kept soft and weak as a Lady should be.
She wasn’t any match for him and she knew that before she ever so much as wrestled in his grasp.
But no matter the faults and certainty she held in her character, Kira could not simply go quietly into her death.
With a final tug, she was inside the Keep, bombarded with the portraits of the Galbraith ancestors and paintings that Hunter’s mother loved and had told her all about in great detail.
She wasn’t but a foot inside and the ghosts of her past were already haunting her.
Even if Hunter merely kept her as a caged pet, she would go mad there and the Galbraith Keep would be the end of her.
“Please! Hunter! Let me go. I beseech ye to listen to reason.” As she finally managed to put desperation instead of command into her voice, he faced her with narrowed eyes and a scowl.
“Go on then, give me a reason,” he challenged.
Her mouth hung open, stupidly. Truthfully, she had been speaking out of panic instead of logic and when she searched her mind for a reason he should let her go—one beyond morality—she couldn’t find any. He should hate her and whatever came with that was the price she had to pay for past mistakes.
Still, she had to implore him to think twice, to consider mercy even if she didn’t feel deserving of it. Kira reached for the fist that kept her wrist so tightly tucked away when a thin line of red caught her attention.
He’s still wearing it. After all this time…
A thin red braid of thread was secured around his wrist, a gift from her more than a decade prior. It made her heart skip a beat, though she was honestly unsure what to make of the information.
When she looked back to his face, his gaze moved from the bracelet to her empty wrist. The wrist which once stayed forever tied with red thread, just like his. He squeezed her hand as if he wanted to hurt her. She winced at his force.
“Thought ye could forget about me, lass?” he asked in something between a scoff and a laugh.
His face was stony and unreadable as he turned around and continued to drag her along. The words stung more than his iron grip. As if she could ever forget Hunter.
She fought the entire way down the corridor and down the steps, even more so when cell doors came into view.
She heard her own voice raise an octave or two as she asked him to stop, to let her go, to release her.
But he was unmoved and with a shove, Kira was in a cell with Hunter’s ominous shadow blocking the dim light from the corridor.
“Hunter, please, dinnae—”
He cut her off. “It is my Laird. I am nay longer Hunter to ye. Dinnae forget that.”
Before he could so much as slam the cell door shut, Kira was on the dirt floor. She blinked rapidly against the darkness and coached herself in an attempt not to freak out.
But the walls were already closing in.
Through the lens of her anxious mind, the stone walls stretched in height and grew ever closer to her. Her chest was tight and the air around her seemed thin.
She had always been unnerved by close quarters, and this was made only worse by her looming fate. Kira was completely undone by the threat of the cell and the door hadn’t even closed yet.
She was crying, tears beading down her face, pleas for her very life escaping her in blubbered sentences. He stood there, watching it all, unmoved and unphased by the rapid deterioration of Kira.
“Yer tricks will nay longer work on me, lass,” he taunted.
Nay matter what, he’s nae going to release me. I’m going to be stuck in this cell. In this cramped place. How will there be enough air to breathe? How long do I have before I run out?
The air that had already seemed thin was nearly nonexistent then, her mind worked into a complete lather with worry over the walls and just how close they seemed to be. Would she be crushed or suffocated first?
Her breathing became labored, each inhale shorter than the last. She cried out for him in breaths, taking several exhales to simply get out M’Laird.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered in the distance.
As the world started losing its focus, arms were around her, strong and warm and safe. Her wide, frightened eyes lifted to find Hunter’s face as he headed out of the cell with her in his arms like a bride.
She didn’t care what became of her, so long as it wasn’t in that bloody cell. And so, she allowed her heart to be grateful for him and this fleeting moment of kindness. Her body relaxed against his and her eyes closed while sobs continued to shake her entire body.
This would be the last time Hunter ever saved her. Had it even been saving, or was he only tormenting her? She didn’t dare ask, knowing that only hate resided in his heart for her.