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Even though none of this feels real, his touch still burns through my shirt. Obviously, he still feels the sting in his hand as he has thankfully stopped trying to grab me. If I didn’t know better, I would think my body is trying to repel him, even if my mind can’t seem to.
“Well, isn’t this… charming.” He follows me through the carved door into the living area, freshly painted a soft and creamy butter yellow and waiting for its new curtains, and spins on his heels.
He looks so odd here, his pressed and starched clothes, pristine hair and icy aura completely at odds with the warmth, comfort, and love of the room. He looks alien, unreal. Maybe this is all still some dream, and I’ll wake up in Roan’s arms once again.
“Thank you. I did most of the work myself. Well, what I could. The others helped.” I step closer, and he turns back to me, coming to stand before me, chest to chest—well, waist. Like everyone, he is considerably taller than me—looking down at me. Not even metaphorically this time. His hands rise to grasp my arms before he remembers and drops them, resting them on his hips instead.
“Of course, Theo. And what help you would have needed, I mean, you, aHivercouer,doingmanual labour.” He scoffs, pretentiously.
I want to argue back but hold my tongue, not wanting to ruin things with a fight.
One of his hands comes up again, ghosting over my cheek with the back of his hand, while his eyes search mine for something I don’t know how to give him. A warm buzz skates over my skin, like a million pinpricks poking holes into my spirit.
I can’t seem to take my eyes from his—like a compulsion, I’m locked onto them. They are so deep, the dots of his pupils widening until his eyes are pure blackness. Panic rises in my subconscious, but it’s too late. The earth drops from beneath my feet, plunging me into blackness. As the world disappears and I sink into oblivion, one thought overwhelms me.
Oh fuck. Not again.
***
The ground beneath me is hard, rough. And also kind of damp? With my eyes still shut, I scan my body, testing my limbs for movement. Fortunately, there is no pain, no apparent injuries to my body except for a dull ache to accompany the mental grogginess.
Unfortunately, my arms and legs are completely unrestrained. That would have been a good thing, except there is a slick patch of something wet beneath me—is thatmoss?—and my body jerks wildly in shock.
“Ah, I see you’re finally awake.” Hearing Darius’s voice seems to unlock my hearing, the sounds rushing my ears.
Bird calls, trees rustling in the breeze and, most importantly, the pounding of the Whisper Falls.
How did I get here?Hysteria wells in me, as I become all too aware that, for the second time in my life, in this year, inthe last six monthsI have been bespelled and kidnapped.
What in the actual fuck?
Hysteria gives way to white hot rage.How fuckingdarehe?How dare he victimise me again? The anger flowing through my body balls into furious sparks from my fingertips.
Thankfully, my fingers are hidden from view under my chest where I am sprawled on the floor. The sparks burn my chest, butI take the pain and let it fire me up further. Whatever is about to come, I am going to need whatever advantage I can get.
“You can stop pretending now, Theo, I know you’re awake. You might try to act with some dignity.”
Despite being loath to do a single thing he says, I push myself to sit, tucking my knees into my chest and crossing my arms over them to conceal my sparking hands.
The sun is worryingly low to the treeline—though summer means longer days, it seems late in the afternoon now. We arrived at the tavern just before lunch. How long have I been out?
Somehow, and I hate to consider how exactly he’s done it, he has managed to get us both to the top of the Falls, setting us up beside the rocky creek bed right before the water tumbles over the ledge. From my sitting position, close enough to the edge to raise my blood pressure, I can see the pool below and the surrounding trees. If I squint really hard, I can see the white of the tavern and the house, so far, yet so close.
Actuallyclose by are the slick rocks that form the wide creek bed. The bed is covered in moss and scraggly trees struggling to take root in between the large, flat slate sheets and smaller water-tumbled pebbles. The water is crystal clear, flowing rapidly towards its descent.
Naturally, the Whisper Woods surround us, and for a moment I consider pushing to my feet and bolting for the safety of the trees. But the distance is too far, even if I did manage to make it past the slick rocks without Darius and his absurdly long legs capturing me, there are still several metres of overgrown grass and shrubbery before you get to the treeline. I’d never make it.
Darius huffs impatiently from where he is fiddling about at a large stack of flat rocks. It almost looks like a primitive altar. Probably because he is setting it up to look like one, with bundlesof herbs and a large seashell, candles, and a rather wicked looking knife.
What is it with my kidnappers and knives? It’s starting to hurt my feelings.
I meet his huff with a solid glare, happy to see his perpetually pristine and starchy pressed shirt and trousers stained and streaked with mud and grime. It is petty and childish, but it feels like a win to see him dirty. I know it will have cost him.
“Yes, yes. Enough of that. But don’t be mad, I’m about to give you everything you ever wanted, darling Theo.”
How had I ever thought his smug, pretentious face was handsome? His sneer twists his handsome visage into something sinister and gross. His hands rest on his hips, a length of black ribbon wrapped around one hand.
“What are you talking about, Darius? Why have you brought me here?”
