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Chapter Four
The jingle of bells sang in my ears, over and over, like a song stuck in a loop. I ached all over. The tune kept repeating. Was Britta playing with a toy? Lying with my eyes shut and a fiery warmth at my feet, I felt as if I’d forgotten something. The last thing I remembered was driving to the small town of Ringsted…
And with that, my heart slammed against my chest as the memories surged through my mind. The attack, the monster, the reindeer! Me falling over, hitting my head.
I opened my eyes to a white ceiling with a single bulb hanging low. This wasn’t my bedroom. I lay on a bed, on top of the covers, in a strange room, and my breath hitched. My thoughts raced as I tried to piece together where the hell I was, but nothing came to mind.
The ringing persisted, and I twisted my head, which was a mistake because a thundering ache lanced across my brow as if I’d been struck by a hammer. A man paced up and down the room, and the bells rang out each time his left foot hit the floorboards. He glanced outside every time he passed the window, his hands deep in his pockets. He had short, dark cropped hair. Paired with his broad shoulders and muscular physic, he reminded me of a soldier. Had he saved me from the monster and brought me here?
Outside, it looked darker and snow fell in clusters, making visibility difficult. I scanned the room without making a sound, from the door to the couch against the opposite wall where another man slouched. His head was tilted back against the top of the sofa, staring at the ceiling, and he wore jeans, heavy boots, and a long-sleeved top. Like the first guy, he was strong and maybe in his mid-to-late twenties.
Why was I here exactly? Maybe I should be in a hospital. The fuzziness in my mind made thinking worse.
What had happened in the woods had been strange enough. But now to wake up in a room with two strange men sat on my chest like a boulder. I was in Austria and knew so little about the country. They must have found me passed out in the woods and brought me here? But why not a hospital?
Thanks to the crazy-ass monster attacking, I’d left my phone and bag in the car, and who knew where that was in relation to where this cabin was located. My stomach twisted with that reminder.
I shifted slightly on top of the bedsheet, rolling away from the men.
But the moment, I turned onto my side, I came eye to eye with a third man sitting on a chair, one ankle crossed over his knee, his hands on his thighs. The bluest eyes stared my way, and I lost myself in them as they stood out against the darkest lashes and thick brows. Long, black hair flowed over his shoulders and halfway down his chest. I’d only seen men like him in magazines, not in real life. Was I hallucinating?
“Hello,” he said, his voice dark and raspy. Not a hint of an accent. And he didn’t move from his seat.
“She’s awake?” another said from behind me, and I scrambled off the double bed, the chiming of bells coming from around my ankles. I glanced down to my jeans, finding bells sewn to the hems of my fabric. I tugged on them, but they weren’t coming off. My arm had also been bandaged where I’d been scratched up, and the sleeve, pushed to sit above my wound, looked shredded.
The world tilted beneath me, and I stumbled backward. Pressed in between the bed and the handsome long-haired man, I crammed my back against the wall. My attention seesawed between the three men, each studying me with an expression I couldn’t work out. Maybe curiosity, or was I sensing their satisfaction, as if proud of their catch?
The soldier marched toward me, and I grabbed the closest thing, a pillow, holding it against my chest as a shield. I stood no chance against three men. On the bright side, I still wore my clothes. And they hadn’t tied me up as their sex slave. Bonus yay? Except the walls seemed to close in around me, and a heaviness smothered me. I desperately needed fresh air.
“Where am I? Who are you? And why are there bells on my jeans?” My voice quivered, and I cleared my throat, lifting my chin, wondering if I’d make it to the door if I jumped over the bed and ran.
“You’re in Ringsted. The bells are for your protection, and I’m Tatum. That over there”—he stared at the guy lounging on the couch at the back of the room—“is Leven.” Leven gave a slight nod of his head. He had sandy-colored hair, long along the top and shaved around the edges. Shadows danced under his eyes, his expression firm and revealing nothing.
“I’m Jax,” the long-haired man on the seat near the bed said, carrying a light European accent.
My thoughts weren’t catching up, and I swept my gaze from each of them, convinced I was dreaming because, let’s be honest, if there were murderers working together to kidnap and kill people, what were the chances all three would be the sexiest-looking men I’d ever seen? I prayed I was wrong.
“You hit your head pretty nastily,” said Jax. “So we brought you back here to recover. You had no ID on you.”
My throat dried as I tried to patch together the missing pieces of my memory. Okay, so they’d found me in the woods knocked out and had taken care of me. That was a charitable thing to do as long as that was all it had been. “Why didn’t you take me to the hospital?”
Jax shrugged as if it had genuinely never crossed their minds. All right, so I could have had a concussion, and what would they have done? Sat around and watched me until I died? I stiffened at the idea.
“I’m Nickie. Now can I leave?” I glanced up and up at Tatum as he towered over me. He carried an energy about him of someone who was used to getting his way and giving orders.
He nodded. “Where would you like to go?”
I held back the words that I was planning on running as far from them as I could as soon once I got the chance. “I probably need to see a doctor. What if I have a concussion or something?”
Jax shook his head. “Trust us, you’re fine. We can tell.”
I gripped my hips. “What does that even mean? Are you a doctor?”
The corner of his mouth curled up and he shook his head. “You’ll be okay.”
“I need to go home.”
“It’s too dangerous to travel to Hirschheim. We’ll all stay here until the storm passes,” Tatum added. “And Jax is right. You don’t have a head injury. You’ll have to believe us on that.”
