Page 2 of Ruling the Green

Grabbing.

Bruising.

The water muffled my scream, reducing it to a burst of bubbles as I was dragged up. Up.

I broke the surface, mouth open to cry out as pain shot up my arms and shoulders.

“No!” I shrieked, flailing, scratching, grabbing.

To no avail.

The man was a beast, each of his thighs nearly as wide as my entire body, his corded arms effortlessly pulling me up out of the water.

While beautifully removed from most of the world—and the evil therein—I wasn’t naive either.

I knew the dangers for women alone in the woods.

I knew the depravity of wicked men’s desires.

No corner of the world was safe from that kind of evil.

“Stop fighting,” the giant—maybe a troll, though I wasn’t wasting time noticing inconsequential details—roared.

Slippery, I managed to wrench one of my hands from his and felt myself partially dipping back into the water. The surge of vitality shot through me again, invigorating my efforts.

But instead of reaching again for my arm, the beast grabbed a handful of my hair, yanking viciously upward. Pain sliced across my scalp, sharp enough to make my eyes water. Another cry escaped me.

Sensing his upper hand, he wrapped the long, midnight strands around his meaty fist, turning, twisting, then dropping my other arm.

My full weight dropped, making the pinpricks of pain intensify as my lower half temporarily slipped back into the water.

“Don’t make her bald,” another voice called, sounding bored and unaffected by my cries as I was dragged to the bank, then up onto the land.

I scrambled up onto my knees, then feet, desperately trying to ease the pain.

“She’s fighting,” the giant grumbled.

“She’s a third your size,” the other man called back. “Hurry up, will you? He’s already angry.”

Who was angry?

And what could I possibly have to do with that?

I minded my business.

I avoided the other fae.

“Walk faster, bitch,” the giant snarled.

As if he was giving me a choice.

He grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me forward, fingers pulling hard enough for something to pop in my wrist, forcing me to run to keep up if I didn’t want him to dislocate it further.

“Faster,” the tall, skinny man ahead of us demanded, breaking into a spritely run.

A few steps in front of me, the giant let out a string of curses under his breath as his footsteps shook the ground when he forced his legs to carry him faster.

With his hand crushing my wrist, escape seemed impossible. So I let myself start noticing things: the trees we passed, the direction we were moving in.