Page 146 of Cursed Shadows 4

His mouth twists with a tinge of regret. He turns his gaze to mine, holds my stare for a beat, then looks to the sleek black arrow sticking out from the side of my leg. Just some spots below my hipbone, it protrudes with an elegance that should never bring this much pain.

I know what he means with that look.

He means to rip out the arrow.

A groan rumbles through me as I throw my head back on the stones and look up at the sky, fogged with thick grey clouds.

I fist my hands in the mud and brace myself.

He isn’t kind about it.

He rips out the arrowhead with a sudden, sharp tear that has my back arching off the ground and a hollow, twisted cry warping my face.

His barbed accent is edged with regret, “If you hadn’t run—”

“Oh, fuck your arse!” I shout through gritted teeth.

Rune’s choked laugh is quick to silence.

I don’t need to open my creased, squinted eyes to know Daxeel shot him a glare, dangerous enough to cut down any humour in the moment.

There is no humour. None to be found in the ragged tear through my thigh or the ripping sound of fabric.

I wince, sharp, and throw a glare up at Daxeel.

He advances on me, a freshly torn rag dangling from his hand like a murky ribbon.

“You’re alone?” Rune folds his arms over his chest and falls back to lean on the thin, wispy tree.

Faintly, I’m surprised the wood doesn’t give way under his weight and crack into pieces, he’s so bulky.

As he drops to a crouch at my side, Daxeel throws a look over his shoulder at the female.

Mika shakes her head and gestures with her bow across the stream. “Aled.”

Chins turn, bodies shift, muscles tense—and we all look to the boulder hill, white from sun bleaching, but porous, littered with tiny holes.

There, without the top half of his leathers, stands a dark male with a deep complexion, as rich as the soil beneath me. But where there is warmth to his skin, there is a striking harshness in the stones he has for eyes. No pupils, just grey, and so it really does look as though two stones have been popped into his face.

My attention swerves back to Daxeel as he swipes the rag around my wound. A guttural sound grates through my lungs as the rag goes around and around, and I am suddenly dizzy.

He ties it, firm.

From under my glower, I notice that Rune and Dare share a lingering look; searing glances that burn hotter than my own wound.

The new fae, Aled, jumps into the stream. Behind me, I hear the splash of his boots before the sauntering pace of a wander.

Still crouched at my side, Daxeel shoves his arms under my body, then scoops me into his arms. I almost think he might carry me like this, comfortably, but of course I am delusional, and he’s quick to haul me over his shoulder.

My grunt is instant.

Daxeel pushes into step.

Dare and Samick take the lead.

Rune moves to take point behind us, whether to join Mika and Aled, or to cover Daxeel’s back, I don’t know.

But I stay slung over his shoulder.

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