The creature is at the opening, its paw pushes in and comes within inches of me. I gasp and press closer to Cillian.
“Duck,” he says, and I obey.
He pulls me through another opening and then I’m standing in a small room that has been hollowed out of the rock. Two glow sticks dangle from the ceiling, casting everything in eerie green tones. But it’s enough light to see that we are alone.
My leg throbs and my sock is squishy.
“You were right. He did live here,” Cillian says.
“Maybe he’s coming back.” I don’t want to be here when he does.
“Time moves differently in faery; a day there can be weeks here, or longer. For the moment we are safe.”
I nod, my head is light, and I need to sit. The adrenaline that has kept me going abandons me in a rush and I want to be sick. I shiver and stagger toward the bed—a shelf carved out of the rock and covered with blankets.
Cillian walks with me. He has no choice. Then he wraps a blanket around my shoulders. “I need to look for weapons, a knife or something to cut us free. And water. Can you get up again?”
I stare up at him. I want to say no, but my pride won’t let me. He offers his hand and I take it. The room tilts and for a second, I think I’m going to fall over. He scoops me up, cradling me in his arms, and I loop my arm around his neck. We cross the room, and he sets me down to rummage through the chest of drawers and shelves. I lean against the wooden drawers.
Finally, he pulls out a hunting knife, scissors, and a smaller knife. “One of these should work, after all, he had to cut it to length.”
“And the cuff?”
“That will have to wait.” He glances at the tools, then me.
I pick up the knives and the scissors. “Now you can return me to the bed.”
He picks up a first aid kit and puts in in my arms. “So you don’t have to get up again if I can’t cut through the rope.”
I nod, and then he sweeps me up again like I weigh nothing. I could get used to the feeling, but I’ve learned never to let anyone too close. He’s already gotten under my skin and my life is in his hands.
I have to trust him.
Part of me doesn’t want to. He’s fae, a monster… but so am I…
He places me on the bed and swings my legs up.
“You’ll get blood on the sheets.” In the sickly green glow, I realize it’s already too late. There is blood everywhere. “Is it all mine?”
“Yes. Why don’t you lie down? Can I cut your jeans?”
I groan. “If you must. I could just take them off.”
But he’s already cutting the leg and peeling the saturated denim away from my skin. I stare at the ceiling, not wanting to look because I know it’s a mess. I felt the teeth dig deep and tear into my calf. The bastard thing knew to bite above the boot.
He doesn’t warn me before he dabs on the disinfectant. I hiss at the burn and try to pull away, but he’s far stronger. “A little warning next time.”
“Would it have made a difference?”
“No, but it’s polite.”
“Well, I’m not done yet.” He returns to torturing me and cleaning out the bite. The next thing I know he’s bandaging my leg. I think I passed out. That’s not good.
“How are you feeling?” He glances up at me from where he kneels on the floor.
My heart does a little flip at his care and concern.Get a grip, it’s only because you are tied together.
But he could’ve cut the rope first, and he didn’t.
