Page 32 of Surviving Hallow Hill
I nod, but honestly, I’m too hell-bent on listening to our surroundings. Every little lift of the leaves or rustle of the limbs sets my body into motion, my hand jerking toward the sword on my hip. My other senses are on high alert to make up for my complete lack of sight.
“Relax, Emmera,” Amrose tells me with a bit too much familiarity with my name. “The corpses are very few now.” Every ominous word she says is a building climax to the most gruesome story I never want to hear.
“Why’s that?” I’m so tense now, simply from the beautiful woman, that I don’t even notice Styx stop until my face plummets into his hard back.
Holy Lady of Death.
My fingers push against the pain of my temples.
Fucking ouch.
Then I see the shine of her big silver eyes in the dim moonlight. It’s like looking into hell itself and coming face to face with the terrifying image of the devil.
“Because I ate them all for a midnight snack just three nights ago.” She giggles to herself, an amused sound like broken glass skittering down a beautiful stream.
That’s...reassuring, I guess. And disturbing. I wondered why she’d left and returned three days ago with blood coating her lips. I decided not to question it because, hey, as long as it’s not my blood or the blood of anyone I love, then we’re good.
As eerie as the skinwalker is, it does set my nerves at ease as I stumble blindly on. The next time my boot catches violently on another fun mystery surprise from the forest, Styx falls back, slides his big hand into mine, and guides me with patient assured steps. He doesn't speak. He doesn’t wait for a thank you. He just lets me lean into his warm side, his arm wrapped securely around mine while his thumb brushes delicious circles against the back of my hand.
For a quiet moment, I don’t think about the chaos surrounding us. The death that is waiting can simply do just that:wait.
The sweet little omega pours comfort into my body with his presence. His touch is a magnifying pressure of tingling sensations racing across my flesh. It’s electric and soothing all at the same time.
Mates.
This is what it feels like to be tied mind, body, and soul with someone.
I love it.
I love him. I love them all.
I stumble harder than ever, and my palms hit the ground hard before I can even process the terrifying thought in my head.
Love.
Oh, my Holy Lady of Death. I love them all. Sure, maybe one or two men are okay to love, but three?
How did this happen to me?
Emotions burn through my chest almost as painfully as the stinging feel of the sticks biting into my palms, and all I want is to blurt out these feelings and get them out in the open before the beautiful energy fades and uncertainty shoves its way in.
“Styx,” I whisper as I stare up at the dense, dark sky, knowing he’s hovering nearby. “Rue...”
I can’t see them. I can’t see anything.
But I feel them.
I feel them as strongly as I feel my own erratic beating heart.
And then I feel something else.
Pain stabs through my shoulder. It bleeds hotly down my back. It slashes through my skin and embeds there for so long, it catches my breath in my chest.
Then, in the pressing blackness of the night, a symphony of screams, hisses, and roars cuts through the quiet.
Sialen is the first to speak as I shudder against the dry leaves and try to blindly process my surroundings.
“You fucking cowards,” Sialen growls as a slamming sound shakes the sticks at my side. A grunt follows, and a body jars into me as I realize what’s happening:
