Page 33 of A Dance With Fire
Clay chuckled.Well, I’ll be damned,he thought as he took a seat and kept his watchful eye on the pretty little Fire Dancer. The one woman who may have gone and caught Ryker Valda’s attention.
13
Safe House
Shula awoke with a gasp. Nightmares had plagued her. Images of blood and iron and scorched skin, of poison being shoved down her throat. Nightmares that weren’t dreams at all, but memories haunting her subconscious.
She took a moment so assess the state of her body, surprised to find she no longer felt as weak as before, but there was a bad taste in her mouth and her throat felt dry and gross. The side of her face and ribs where the soldier had hit her no longer hurt, and her chafed, bleeding wrists were healed, free of iron manacles. The only pain she felt was the burning sensation along her back, and she could almost trace the images of her scarring wounds with every pulsing beat of agony.
She let out a husky groan as her palms pushed herself up from the floor. Her eyes opened and panic set in when she didn’t recognize her surroundings.
Then a voice broke through her confusion, making her look up into a face she recognized.
Brilliant green eyes stared at her; dazzlingly white teeth smiled at her. The Fae man from before—how long ago had it been?—Clay, he’d introduced himself as. He was sitting in a rickety chair that creaked under his weight. His legs were spread wide and he leaned forward, resting his forearms against his thighs as he took her in. A head of light brown hair was moussed above his head. He looked like someone who didn’t take care with their appearance, because the ruffled look made him all the more beautiful.
And hewasbeautiful.
Plump lips that looked like they were made for sin, lithe muscles that pressed against a tightly belted tunic that was opened at the neck to reveal the smooth panes of his chest. He wore simple, dirty clothes that did nothing to tarnish his beauty, but enhanced it somehow.
His smile didn’t falter, and Shula immediately distrusted him. Why was he smiling so much? It made no sense. What was there to smile about? And why was he staring at her as if he meant to make her his next meal?
“The beautiful Fire Dancer awakens at last.”
She frowned at the compliment and looked down at herself, just to make sure she hadn’t woken up naked. When she found she still had on the garment the brothers had dressed her in, she breathed a sigh of relief. Not that her relief mattered an ounce, since the cloth was see-through anyway.
“The blacksmith did a wonderful job at taking those off you.” Clay nodded at her wrists.
Shula stared at him warily. “Then I will make sure to thank the blacksmith.”
“Sure, I think he’ll like that.” Then he smirked. “And maybe thank Ryker for your lack of wounds, too.” Before she could say anything in response to that, he stood up and the chair beneath him groaned. “If you want, I can find you something more comfortable to wear. I’m sure we have something in your size. You’ll have to hurry, though. We’re leaving and Valerio doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” Before she could say anything,askanything, he winked and went out the only door in the room, a cracked thing with broken bits on the floor.
She waited a few moments, counting the heartbeats and listening to his retreating footsteps. When he was a safe distance away, she jumped up to her bare feet. There was no dizziness, which she was thankful for. Shula ran for the door, yanking it open. Her strength had seemed to come back to her tenfold. Either that or the door was incredibly fragile. The moment she pulled it open, bits of the wood crumbled off.
She didn’t care. She wouldn’t be here long. She started off at a sprint. Of course, she had no idea where she was going, where she was, or how she’d escape. And it was just her luck that, for the second time within the day, if it even was the same day, she’d run straight into a solid body of flesh.
She yelped and jumped back, once again finding herself staring up into the eyes of the monstrous Fae from before. He was glaring down at her, one eye white and the other black.
In the light of day, he looked different. Not obscured by shadows, he didn’t look as sinister. The scars spread across his face like the broken edges of a mysterious puzzle piece she couldn’t decipher. Without his cloak, she could see them run down his neck and into the collar of his buttoned-up tunic. Shula wondered what had happened to him. Some of the wounds looked fresher than others. Even though he wore a long sleeve that strained against his bulging, thick muscles, she could make out the pressed pattern of scars. Some looked like burn marks, others like stab wounds carved through his flesh. It made the wounds on her own back ache.
He was glaring down at her with little remorse in his gaze. It made her regret her startled yelp, made her cross her arms against her chest and glare right back.
Perhaps the night before she’d been frightened of him, but she’d been running for her life, scared and betrayed, aching and filled with ashwood poison and bound in iron. This was a new day and all of her aches and pains were behind her. She would fight if she had to. She would fight to get past him and make it to her freedom. Finally.
“Move,” she ordered.
His massive, hulking body took up the entire hallway. She would have to squeeze herself very thin to make it past him.
He snorted though his expression didn’t change.
“Either move or I move you myself.” She felt the vehemence in her own words, even if she had no idea how she would even begin moving him. Shula wasn’t on the short side, though neither was she tall. And this Fae man towered over six feet. Maybe seven? She couldn’t be sure, but he packed stone upon stone of solid muscle that made him look like a beast.
He could take her out if he really wanted to, but Shula wouldn’t go down without a fight.
Her temperature flared and with it, she could taste ash and smoke in her lungs. She exhaled a breath and smoke clouded before her.
Finally, she got a reaction out of him. His eyebrow rose and then he spoke, and the gravely sound of his voice did something to her insides she couldn’t explain. Just like before, she felt her magic stir to life at his nearness. “What are you going to do? Burn me?”
She pushed her confusion away and held up her palm. It had been so long since she last used her magic, but she dug deep inside herself to bring forth a glimmer of sparks to her fingertips. They popped and sizzled like the remnants of a campfire.
