Page 12 of A Legacy of the Light

I snap my eyelids open. That wasn’t my phone waking me up. It was a bird, on a window overlooking a lush green landscape.

Dread runs down my spine. I am not in my own bed.

What. The. Fuck.

Chapter 4

The view from the window is breathtaking. Green forests surround the foot of the mountains that sit across a clear lake that is as still as the moon. Fluffy clouds surround the middle of them before their snow-capped peaks break above the cloud bank.

This is definitely not the view I have from my window in mid-Brooklyn—a delightful view of a brick wall of the apartment building next to mine.

I tear my gaze away from the stunning vista and look around the room. There’s an exposed brick wall against which a large four-poster bed sits, covered in ivory bedding and fluffy pillows. There are two doors at either end of the wall opposite the bed.

I get up from the bed, and head toward the door on the left, opening it quietly. It leads out into an open kitchen and living space with floor-to-ceiling windows offering more of that spectacular view. If I weren’t so confused, I would stop to admire the early-morning sun glinting off the water and the clouds curling around the mountains.

Comfortable sofas in a soft blue surround an unlit fireplace. On the other side of the room is a clean and simple kitchen with white marble countertops and a breakfast bar with three stools tucked underneath it.

To the right of the kitchen is a narrow hallway leading towards what I’m assume is a front door and perhaps a storage room—it’s too dark for me to make anything out clearly. There’s nothing in the apartment to indicate where I am, or who lives here.

I tread quietly into the kitchen and notice a block of knives tucked away in a corner. A loud noise to my right, near the front door, makes me reach for the biggest one in there. My pulse thunders and it takes a lot of effort to not let the fear consume me as I listen to the sounds of someone approach me.

I steel my spine and take a steadying breath.

“Who’s there?!” I shout, trying to put confidence and power into my tone.

“I have a knife and I know how to use it!” I warn. I have no idea how to use any weapon, never mind wield this knife to protect myself. But they don’t know that.

“What for, to chop vegetables?” a dark voice comes from down the hallway, the accent subtle but undeniably Scottish.

I gasp and take a few steps back until I hit the breakfast bar separating the living and kitchen area.

“I will do more than chop vegetables! I’m not afraid of you!” Lie. Frankly, I’m shitting myself.

I’m in a strange place with a strange man with no idea how to get out.

“Hmm, sure you’re not. I can hear your heart racing from here,” he murmurs, his accent curling delicately around his r’s.

“Maybe I’d be less scared if you weren’t hiding in the dark like a fucking creep!” I retort.

I’m going to die today.

“Maybe I like being a creep. I see all sorts of interesting things hiding in the dark,” he says, amusement lacing his deep voice.

“Where have you taken me? Why am I here? Who the hell are you?” I spew out the questions before I can stop them.

The dark voice chuckles and he finally steps into the open space, his gaze locking with mine. My breath huffs out in surprise.

“My name is Tavish.”

It’s him, the guy from the bar who was staring at me so intently. Just like he is now.

Shock keeps me silent as Tavish continues. “As for your other questions, we’ll get to those, since no one is supposed to be able to get in here without permission from the king. Odd that you could get here at all.”

King? What the hell? There’s no king in the US. Have I lost my mind? Maybe—it wouldn’t surprise me if I have.

I stay silent as we stare each other down and I can see his features properly in the daylight. I knew he was tall from the way he towered over everyone in the bar even while he was sitting down. His size dwarfs mine and makes me feel like a child. He has nearly a foot on me, and I’m not short at five feet seven. He’s broad and muscular and carries his large frame with grace.

Someone likes the gym.