Page 37 of Given

At the same moment, a woman’s terrified scream split the air.

Varick and I froze. The sound was so close, it could have only come from the chamber next door.

“Given,” I said.

Together, we raced into the bedroom and grabbed whatever clothes we could find. Then we were out the door.

Chapter Eleven

GIVEN

The man’s hair was as long and pale as my own. It flowed down his back as he stood facing away from me. If it weren’t for his broad shoulders, I might have mistaken him for a woman.

But I knew he was male.

Because I knew him. I’d seen him before, in this same place. Only this time I remembered it.

It was always the same. We stood in a clearing in an open field. Tall, fragrant grass surrounded us, but our space was flattened. The sky was a hazy blue, and the temperature was perfect. White blossoms drifted through the air. Somewhere in my mind, I knew that wasn’t quite right. There were no trees to shed them. When the delicate petals neared the ground, they disappeared. That shouldn’t have happened. But every time I tried to puzzle it out, the thoughts slipped away. It was easier not to think about it, so I didn’t.

I focused on the man.

He was richly dressed. His dark-blue mantle was trimmed in silver embroidery worked into an intricate design. The heavy fabric fell to his ankles and caught on the grass. The blossoms drifted around him, their petals as white as his hair.

It was odd that he was just standing there.

I took a step forward. “Hello?”

He stiffened. Slowly, he turned. Our gazes met.

My breath caught. He was beautiful. Again, I knew this already. But he was so stunning, it was like I was seeing him for the first time. His skin was flawless, his features masculine but delicate in a way that threatened to break my heart. His eyes were the same clear blue as the sky above us. His ears curved to delicate points.

Elven.

Of course.

His lips moved, but his voice seemed to come from behind me. Like the petals, it was all wrong.

I turned but there was no one there.

The voice rose—and I recognized it. Just as I knew the man, I knew this voice. It spoke a strange, guttural language. Its tone dipped low before climbing unnaturally high.

My heart pounded. The fine hairs on my arms lifted.

The voice spoke directly in my ear.

I cried out and spun around, seeing nothing but an empty field. When I turned back, the man stood right in front of me with blood pouring from his mouth. It gushed down the front of his clothes and spattered in the grass.

A strangled scream ripped from my throat. I tried to run, but my feet were frozen in place.

The blood kept coming. It soaked the hem of my dress and climbed up my skirts.

“S-Stop!” I cried, slapping at the fabric like I was putting out flames. “Stop it!” His face was ashen. He was probably the only elf left in the world. I couldn’t let him die.

He’d stopped speaking, but someone was shouting. Desperate now, I let my fangs descend. I bit my wrist and held it to his lips. But he didn’t drink. He just stared straight ahead as if he looked right through me.

“Take it!” I screamed. Blood flowed down my arm. The ground under my slippers was soggy with it. Panic locked its jaws around me.

The shouting grew louder. Invisible claws sank into my arm.

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