Page 1 of Taken in the Tree Farm
CHAPTER 1
SERAPHINA
The cold hits me first.
Not the gentle kiss of winter air, but the sharp bite of snow seeping through thin fabric, numbing my skin where it touches my bare thighs. My eyelids feel heavy, weighted down more than what feels natural. When I finally pry them open, the world swims in and out of focus. All I can see is a kaleidoscope of twinkling lights and shadowed evergreens.
Where am I?
I try to sit up, but my arms won't cooperate. They're pulled in front of me, wrists bound together with a long strip of bubblegum pink velvet, I realize, as my vision sharpens. It's pretty, but it holds firm when I test it.
Panic flares in my chest.
I'm lying in snow. Fresh powder surrounds me, unmarred except for the indent my body has made. Above, fat flakes drift down through the darkness, landing on my face, melting against my flushed cheeks. The sky is a sheet of black studded with stars, but the ground glitters with thousands of lights—gold, silver, red,green, blue—strung through rows and rows of Christmas trees that stretch in every direction.
My breath comes faster, white puffs of air visible in the freezing night.
What happened? How did I get here?
I force myself to sit up, fighting through the grogginess. Everything feels thick and sluggish, my thoughts wading through molasses. Was I drugged? I feel disconnected from the world around me.
I look down at myself and my stomach drops.
I'm dressed like something out of a twisted fairy tale. A pink tulle dress flares around my hips, layer upon layer of sheer fabric that does nothing to block the cold. The bodice hugs my ribs, rhinestones shaped like tiny candies catching the light with every shaky breath. My legs are covered in sheer, sparkly fishnet tights. Pink ballet shoes are laced up my calves, and they're already soaked through from the snow.
I reach up with my bound hands and feel a crown perched on my head. I can't see it, but the weight of it feels expensive.
I think it's a sugarplum fairy costume.
Didhedress me in this? Did he bring me here, tie me up, and leave me in the middle of a Christmas tree farm in the dead of night?
Terror floods through my veins, hot and paralyzing.
I struggle to my feet, slipping in the damp slippers. The movement sends a wave of dizziness through me, and I have to brace my bound hands against a nearby candy cane to stayupright. The stick is smooth against my palms, dusted with snow. Christmas lights are wrapped around the cane, twinkling red and white in an alternating pattern that makes my eyes water.
The tree farm stretches endlessly in every direction. Rows of pines and firs, each one decorated with strings of lights that morph the landscape into an entirely different world. Candy cane stakes mark pathways between the rows, their red and white spirals glowing beneath spotlights. In the distance, I can make out a few things—a massive gingerbread house, a workshop building, archways made of twisted peppermint.
It's beautiful.
And yet so terrifying.
This place looks like a winter wonderland, like magic or something out of a movie, but I'm alone and bound and dressed in this stupid fucking costume. Who does this to another person?
Then it begins, reaching my ears ever so softly.
Music.
Faint at first, drifting through the cold air from speakers I can't see. A Christmas carol, but it sounds wrong. The melody is distorted, slowed down. "Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy" plays on bells that sound cracked and discordant. The effect is haunting, eerie, making the hair on the back of my neck stand up immediately.
And beneath the music…footsteps.
The crunch of boots on fresh snow.
My heart slams against my ribs. I spin around, scanning the shadows between the trees, but the lights create too many dark pockets, too many places to hide. The footsteps continue, steady and unhurried, getting closer.
Then I hear his voice.
It's deep and masculine, laced with amusement.
