Page 2 of Onyx Realm

I gave myself a few more breaths to recover.

And then I grabbed the door handle and jumped.

Jumped onto solid, stationary ground.

In my disoriented state, I didn’t realize the vehicle stopped again. I pitched forward. The flat earth might as well have been a narrow balance beam from the stint when I trained as a gymnast. I swayed and tilted. Muscle memory had my abs clenching tight to recover.

Squinting into the light, I looked for something—anything! A building swam in a blurred haze somewhere in the distance. A desperate sob choked me. Big red letters proclaimed it to be a bait and tackle shop. It was maybe thirty yards away, if my judgement was reliable.

I ran.

Behind me, doors slammed. The goons bellowed. Gravel shifted under their feet.

The desperate hope in my chest pounded wildly against my ribs. On the front porch of the shop, two men sat around a bistro table, which was dwarfed by their large bodies. They looked in my direction, just as the men behind me shouted again.

“Please! Help me,” I called out, voice cracking. I fought past the raw pain, swallowing hard, before trying again. “Please! I’ve been kidnapped.”

To their credit, the men pushed from their seats. They didn’t rush to my aid, but they did begin moving cautiously in the right direction. No...not cautiously. Their movements were predatory. My steps faltered. Some deep, primal warning fluttered in my chest. But it was either rush into the arms of these strangers or be at the mercy of the kidnappers. I stumbled forward. How much worse could these men be compared to the ones chasing me? It was worth the risk.

Somewhere in the beyond, laughter cackled. Fate was mocking my naivety.

Damn, I was losing it. My mind was playing tricks on me, and my heart pattered wildly trying to keep up with the surge of adrenaline.

Pain sizzled over my scalp as one of the kidnappers tugged me back by my hair. I screamed, twisting around and attacking. It was useless. I was petite and drugged. There was no chance of beating him.

But I fought.

I struggled.

I broke free.

Instead of running, I launched at him, landing a kick to his groin. Only then did I spin around and dash away.

Or tried to.

The earth swayed. I blinked hard, but it didn’t help clear my surroundings. The day grew dark and then blinked bright. I was going to pass out again.

I can’t! I...can’t.

The toe of my shoe caught on a stone.

I plummeted forward, but there was no catching myself. The pavement rose to meet me. The kidnapper pounced. Spittle flew from his mouth, accompanied by Slavic expletives. Absently, I recognized the F-word. Two years of Russian as a modernlanguage at the end of private school, and that was all I could show for my education.

Fucking hell.... This was how I died.

A roar exploded through the air.

The pain stopped.

I sagged to the ground. More would come, but my muscles didn’t have the strength to brace against the assault. I lay there as a little voice in the back of my mind giggled that my brother was right. I should never have left Chicago.

Two black boots appeared, and a large form squatted before me. Struggling through the fog, I lifted my gaze. The most vibrant pair of blue eyes, bright and deep, stared back at me. There was something wrong with his face, something marring the Adonis qualities. But I couldn’t focus on that. Only his eyes. So wild and turbulent—so very blue.

Like the ocean.

Not that I’d seen it in person, only pictures on my digital dream boards.

“Ack, rotten luck, your bride’s face is a mess,” a voice muttered somewhere above me.

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