Chapter 25
Chapter twenty-five
I wince as another branch smacks me in the face.
Twigs and leaves are tangled in my hair. Cuts line my cheeks, and my lungs are waving the white flag. Each breath I take makes my chest heave, and the air burns as it goes down.
It’s been ten minutes, or close to, and I’m running like my life depends on it.
Because it does. Not only are they twice my size and lethally skilled, but they also have dark magic on their side.
The only thing I have is sheer desperation.
With limited options, I keep pushing forward.
Hopefully, I can get far enough away that they lose interest. Unlikely, I know.
But it’s all I have to cling to. The only other option I have is to find a good hiding spot and hope they suck at hide-and-seek.
I keep thinking of the most random things to try to throw Kingston off. There’s no doubt in my mind he’s eavesdropping this very second.
Bread pudding. Dirty socks. Shadow-Wielding class sucks. So do shadow wielders.
There’s another big problem.
Snow.
Every single step I take is a flashing beacon to my location.
I have to get out of the snow. My boots sink into the well-worn path as I advance.
The earth is soft and damp beneath my feet.
Sweat beads across my forehead, causing loose tendrils to stick to the moisture along my hairline.
The rough cotton shirt clings to my back.
I slip my arms out of my heavy cloak and toss it behind a large pine without breaking my stride.
Stopping is not an option. Every second can be the difference between victory and defeat.
In this case, defeat would likely break every piece of my soul.
There’d be no coming back from what he said they’d do.
Up ahead, I hear the sound I’ve been praying for.
I stumble over a root protruding from the dirt and nearly fall forward.
My hands shoot out, grabbing onto a tree to right myself.
A grunt flies from my mouth, the sting of the bark digging into my flesh.
I quickly wipe my palms on my shirt and bend down to roll up both pant legs.
This is absolutely going to suck.
I bite my lower lip and step into the Blood River.
The shock is immediate. Cold, unlike anything I’ve ever felt, radiates up my legs and steals my breath.
Precious seconds tick by as I stand in the freezing rapids, the rush overtaking my system.
The intense feeling quickly turns into a numbing sensation, and I wade farther in.
Once I’m thigh level with the rapids, I turn and make my way upriver, against the current.
They’ll think I went east, and I followed the downward current, as any sane person would do, considering it’d be so much easier.
Each step is treacherous and exhausting.
The current makes any progress painstakingly slow, and my entire lower half is starting to lose feeling.
“Shit!” I yell as my boot slips along a rock.
Both arms fly out to balance myself and slip into the freezing water instead.
I quickly yank them out and stand, bringing my hands in front of my face.
Crimson water droplets race down my wrist. I can’t let my mind go there. Not when this river is my salvation.
It’s not real blood. It’s not real blood. SHIT. Rancid bathwater. Sloppy kisses. Monsoons.
The only problem is, I’m pretty sure it is real blood.
I walk for what feels like another fifteen minutes before I drag myself out of the red tinted water and onto the riverbank.
I roll on my back and close my eyes. Pebbles dig into the soggy fabric of my shirt, and sand buries itself in my hair.
Both of my hands and feet tingle, and a trail of blood trickles down my shin from one of the many falls I took in the currents.
If there wasn’t so much on the line right now, I think I might give up. I’m tired. So. So. Tired.
Caderyn women do not show weakness.
The words echo in my head like a horrifying symphony.
Even in near death, I can’t escape my mother’s judgment.
Shivers wrack my body as I lie on the pebbled bank.
I can feel my breath coming out more shallow than it should be.
I wave my fingers in front of my face. Relief hits me that they haven’t yet taken on a blueish hue.
Clenching my teeth, I roll to my side and push myself up.
I need to move. Staying in one place is the worst thing a person can do when trying to survive. To be stagnant is to be dead.
Ignoring the way my legs tremble, I push through the thick trees, wandering farther into the dense woods.
If I’ve counted correctly, which is a gamble with how sluggish my mind feels, I should only have about thirty minutes or less left on the clock.
I just need to remain under the radar for a little bit longer.
Treading as quietly as possible, I keep moving.
Sound echoes here and carries far. I’m all but dragging my legs at this point, demanding they cooperate.
Everything hurts. Physically and mentally.
I am literally one big ball of hurt right now.
It would be easy to just rest for another moment, but instead, I push aside a large branch and step under it.
A hand covers my mouth from behind.
Not hurried. Not agitated. Measured.
As if he’d been silently waiting for me. The scream pulled from my throat is effectively muffled by leather and armor. I desperately pull at his forearm, only for his other gloved hand to wrap around my midsection, holding me firmly in place.
I know exactly which Noctryn found me.
He moves like the shadows he controls, silent and with purpose. I didn’t hear the metallic clinking of his armor or anything. A silent tear slips down my cheek. There’s nowhere to go from here.
He brings his helmet closer to my ear. “Still can’t follow directions, I see. I thought I told you not to get caught,” he says, a warning note to his voice as he pulls his hand away from my mouth slightly.
“F-fuck off,” I say, shivers now wracking my entire body.
He makes a tsking sound with his tongue. “It wasn’t a bad idea. Upstream through a river to prevent tracks. Thinking like a soldier,” he advises. “The only issue is how you’re thinking, it’s so fucking loud you give away everything.”
FUCK YOU! I think as loudly as possible.
“That’s the general idea,” he says in my ear with a chilling, taunting calm.
Despite my shitty circumstances, I throw my head back as hard as I can into the center of his helmet. Pain immediately erupts across the back of my skull. He releases me and takes a step back. I’m in no shape to run, and to attempt it would be a waste of time.
Instead, I slowly turn around, wincing from the radiating pain.
He reaches up and pulls off his helmet, throwing it to the side. He spits blood from a split lip and looks at me, a menacing grin appearing across his face.
I smirk, unable to help myself.
“I like a little fight in my women. Even if they do look like a frozen, drowned rat,” he says icily.
His words are sharper and crueler than any weapon.
“Where are all your little friends?” I ask, purposely ignoring him. I’m shivering so hard that my teeth are clanking together
“Why? Were you looking forward to more than just one of us?” he asks, flashing me a cold smile.
Bile rises in my throat. This can’t be happening. Things like this don’t happen to me. I’m looked after, protected. Ambrose would kill someone for just thinking of touching me.
Ambrose. Gods, how I wish he were here.
One moment I’m contemplating my life, and the next, I’m slammed into a tree mid-thought, my back pressing into the rough bark.
There’s a crack in his icy facade as his black-rimmed eyes are filled with something other than indifference.
He runs a thumb along the side of my neck.
The same place he bit me. His lips pull into a snarl.
“It’s ill-advised to think of another man when you’re about to be fucked by the one standing in front of you,” he says while dragging his dark eyes across my face.
I let out a mocking laugh. “He’ll kill you.”
“He can try.”
I turn my face away, refusing to look at him a second longer.
His rough hands grab my leg, lifting it and wrapping it around his waist. I squeeze my eyes shut. goose bumps scatter across my exposed calf as he pushes the wet fabric up. My breath hitches when he starts rubbing small circles along the back of my leg.
I whip my head back toward him, ready to plead for the insanity to stop. Instead, I’m met with an unflinching stare. It holds my internal plea hostage with unforgiving eyes. “Why do you hate me?” I ask in a broken tone.
His dark hair, wet from sweat, hangs loosely over his brow, giving him an effortlessly defiant look. “Hate isn’t the word I would use,” he says, while using his other hand to rub his fingers over the side of my neck. His eyes linger on the spot he’s rubbing. “He kissed you,” he says coldly. “Here.”
His thumb hovers over the exact spot Ambrose kissed.
I press my lips together and don’t move.
His hand slides higher up my leg, toward my thigh.
I can feel my throat thicken. No one, not even Ambrose, has dared to touch me this familiarly.
He’s taking things I haven’t offered to give.
Unfortunately, that’s not even the most unhinged thing happening.
No, that would be my traitorous body. Shallow breaths.
Racing pulse. I’ve never had control taken from me.
To lose it would cause a level of anxiety that isn’t healthy. Right now, nothing is in my control.
And I like it. Some sick part of me actually likes it.
Norissa, get your shit together. Stop this before it goes too far.
The problem is, I can’t stop this. And to be honest, I’m not sure I even want to at this point. Blame it on the sluggish feeling from the cold or the fact that, for once in my life, I don’t have to consider repercussions. I’m no longer at the helm, and it’s the most freeing feeling in the world.
“You let him kiss the exact spot I sank my teeth into?” he asks in a low, dark voice.
His words are cold and measured.
I narrow my eyes on him before turning my head to stare into the dark forest. I can feel his eyes locked on me. His hand moves higher up my leg. I press my lips together, refusing to let one sound slip past.
“Your silence is hurtful, Heathen. I was just becoming fond of your cruelty.”
I squint my eyes shut, begging my body not to betray me any further.
His hand moves from the pulse point in my neck to grip my chin, forcing my face back toward him. “Eyes on me,” he commands.
“Adair, just let me go,” I plead. “You’ve proven your point.”
He grips my thigh, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, tugging me toward him. The juncture of my thighs now sits firmly against him. His lips pull up in a smirk as I throw my head back against the tree bark.
This isn’t happening.
He leans in slowly, and I quickly turn my face away. His breath is hot against my ear. “Remind me again how much you hate me.”
His hand slides higher still, and I stop breathing altogether.
Just when I think my time is up, his hand stops moving and instead wraps around the hilt of my dagger, removing it from its hidden sheath.
He abruptly drops my leg and steps back.
“I’m sure, as your major, I don’t need to remind you that weapons are off-limits for first-years,” he says, throwing the dagger into the woods.
I grip the tree for balance. I’m speechless. Instead of violating me, he robbed me.
I could have stabbed him. Instead, I forgot that I had a weapon attached to my thigh. No, I was too focused on his adept fingers on my skin. The thrill of having someone want me in such a way that they took the choice from me.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Caderyn,” he says, reading my thoughts effortlessly.
“I meant we’d fuck you metaphorically, not physically.
” He turns his back toward me as he walks a short distance away.
“Although during practice the next few weeks you’ll wish it was the other way around,” he says over his shoulder.
I clench my jaw and bite my tongue.
He reaches behind a tree, grabbing a blanket out of a pack that I didn’t even see. His eyes land on mine as he throws it over my shoulders. “Do me a favor and don’t die out here. I’d hate to have to carry you all the way back,” he says coldly.
His brows pull down, and his upper lip lifts in distaste as he looks me over.
I can’t figure him out. One second, I think he truly despises me, and the next, I suspect he’s just really good at hiding the fact that he doesn’t. Then we start all over again.
“I’d hate to be a burden,” I say sarcastically, my pride oddly bruised. “And stay out of my head!”
“Then learn to block me,” he says simply.
Block him? How do you block someone from your thoughts when you can’t even control your thoughts?
His eyes dart to the right, and his head slowly follows. He lets out a long exhale and rubs the bridge of his nose. “Fuck.”
A slight rustle of branches is the only indication I have before one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen steps through.