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Chapter Nine
The moon was high, offering me plenty of light as I made my way across the courtyard and through the gates of the ruined castle. The forest became a blur as I raced through the trees, heading toward my home.
My hair whipped across my face, my cloak billowing as it caught on the branches of the bushes and trees. I considered discarding it to speed my flight, but it was too cold. If I had to hide somewhere when morning came, I’d need it. My breath fogged in the air in hot gusts, and I tried not to think about what might be lurking in the shadows as I ran.
Casting a look behind me, I tried to discern if I was being followed. Hopefully Wicked wouldn’t awake for hours, and by then I’d be long gone. But my stomach sank when I realized a dark blur was racing through the trees, and it was gaining on me quickly.
“Shit,” I muttered under my breath when suddenly the ground disappeared under me, and I pitched forward with a scream. I was rolling down the side of a steep incline, tumbling end over end, branches and brush scratching and scraping at my skin. A sharp pain dragged along my shoulder, and I screamed again as I spun in a blur.
Finally, I came to a jarring stop at the bottom of a steep ravine. I groaned, my body aching and my shoulder on fire. I couldn’t tell if I’d broken any bones, but I hurt everywhere.
Above me came the soft rustle of something moving through the trees. The moonlight illuminated a familiar form racing toward me. Wicked was still only half dressed as he bounded down the hillside, his expression so wild with anger it seemed to gather speed and roll over the ground to where it found me at rock bottom.
I tumbled over and pushed myself up, my body protesting and blood gushing where my shoulder ached, its warmth dripping down my arm and side. I must have hit something on my way down. With a heave, I stood up and limped along the floor of the ravine. There was no way I could outrun him, especially not like this, but I couldn’t just lie there and wait.
It took less than a handful of seconds before I heard a grunt and felt his arms wrap around my thighs before he hauled me up over his shoulder. I cried out in protest as my arm throbbed painfully. Wicked paid me no mind as he spun and began making his rapid way back up the side of the mountain. It was then I realized how much he’d held himself back earlier as he ran so fast I felt the resistance of the wind on the backs of my legs.
Hanging off his shoulder, the world spun in my vision, and I gripped the waist of his pants to anchor myself, worried he’d drop me. Before I knew it, I recognized the switchback that led to his castle and then the grounds of the courtyard. I heard the door slam open and then close before he dropped me onto the bed in an unceremonious heap.
I moaned in pain, blood gushing from my wound. Wicked was tugging at my cloak, his skin reflecting a sheen of sweat and his pallid face a mask of fury. “You foolish, foolish princess,” he growled. “I told you that you wouldn’t get away.”
“Fuck you,” I managed weakly while he pulled off my cloak. Blood covered the entire side of my tunic.
“What did you do?” he hissed before he rose and moved from the bed. I heard him shuffling around in the kitchen before he returned a moment later. “I’m going to roll you over.”
His hands were more gentle than I would have expected, but the movement sent a sharp pain through my back that caused me to gasp. “Sorry,” he said softly. I heard the rip of fabric when he tore away my blood-soaked tunic and then the gentle touch of a warm wet cloth as he cleaned the wound. While he tended to my injury with soft touches and the occasional grunt of irritation, I lay there, not moving. I sensed he wanted to launch into a lecture about my recklessness, but was saving it for later. Something to look forward to, then.
He pulled out a white roll of bandage and placed it across my shoulder, his hands sliding under my arm as he wrapped it around me securely. I tried not to think about how close his fingers were to my naked breast and how nice they felt on my skin. When he was done, he placed a soft hand on the center of my back and leaned forward to examine his work. A ripple traveled over my skin as his thumb swept back and forth in a soft caress. “I think it’ll be okay,” he said. “It was a clean cut, even if it was deep. It’ll take a little while to heal. I’ll see if I can get some stronger ointment from the village tomorrow.”
His gaze met mine, firelight reflecting off his dark eyes. I wouldn’t apologize for trying to escape, but there was something so tortured in his expression, a small part of me almost felt guilty for ru
“Thank you,” I said, meaning it. He could have left me lying at the bottom of the ravine as a sacrifice for the ogre. A part of me wondered why he hadn’t.
“You don’t have to thank me,” he said, his tone gruff as he stood up and went back to the kitchen. My eyes drifted shut as I gritted my teeth against the sharp pain lancing through my back. A few moments later, he returned with a steaming mug. His hand resting on the small of my back again, he held it to my mouth. “Drink some of this. It’ll dampen the pain and help you sleep.”
I lifted my head, and he gently tipped the mug. The liquid was warm and soothed my throat, tasting of honey, lemon and lavender. I moaned in appreciation as the effects kicked in almost immediately. He made me drink some more, and the pain slowly ebbed, my eyelids growing heavier.
Just before I fell asleep, I felt the brush of his fingers sweeping up my spine and then against my forehead before he tucked a lock of my hair behind my ear.
“What are you doing to me, Rowan?” he asked softly before I drifted into sleep.