Pressing my back to the wall, my knees pulled up to my chest, I stared into the dark room and tried to calm myself. His scent—the victim’s scent…. I could still smell it in my nostrils, and my mouth was filled with a bitter iron taste. His blood.
Crawling back to my knees, I was sick a second time before crumpling to the floor and crying, praying for the vivid dreams to go away. I couldn’t bring myself to look down at my feet; I didn’t want to see the mud that would be splattered across my legs. I knew it was there. It was always there.
Eventually I did fall asleep, because I awoke to Xander touching my arm.
“Rosalie,” he whispered, but I didn’t answer. “It’s time to go. We’re safe now.” He took off his cloak and wrapped it around my shoulders, properly covering my ruined dress. His kindness was melting my cold heart. Finally I looked up at him with my red and exhausted eyes.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“No, I’m not,” I answered truthfully, but didn’t elaborate even when he pressed. Instead, I tried to turn the blame onto him. “You left me,” I said stiffly, pulling the cloak closer around my neck, covering myself and standing up to face him. My eyes were drawn to his lips before glancing up into his own sleep-deprived eyes.
His breath caught and he looked away, avoiding eye contact. “I had to leave. You wouldn’t be safe.”
“You said we were safe here,” I reminded him.
“Yes, from the outside, but you weren’t safe from me.” He looked down at the ground. “I had to leave for fear I would do something I would later regret.”
His words were a sharpened dagger into my already fragile heart. Regret? He was already regretting being close to me. My throat constricted, and swallowing became difficult.
“I see.” Stepping around him, I headed for the door. Pulling it open, I was blinded by sunlight pouring through the treetops. The tiny cottage was nestled among a grove of trees. Two thrushes sang proudly, and I paused to listen to the melody of the birds, the whisper of the wind, and the call of the rushing creek a stone’s throw away.
It was beautiful. This cottage had at one time been someone’s home, and I was hesitant to leave.
Xander brought Nova around. “You ready?”
Nodding, I reached up for the saddle horn, put my foot in the stirrup and tried to mount on my own, but I slipped. My shoulder screamed in agony, and white flashes danced across my vision as I came crashing down into Xander’s arm.
He caught me, pressing me close to his chest, and I heard the worry in his voice when I couldn’t immediately open my eyes to his call.
“Rosalie,” he called. My eyes fluttered open, and I realized how tight he was holding me.
“I’m fine. Just give me a minute,” I said, pulling away from him, which only seemed to anger him.
“You fainted.”
“I slipped. It won’t happen again.”
“No, it won’t,” he growled. Then his hands grasped my waist and I was up, feet in the air as his strong hands lifted me onto the saddle. Seconds later, he was up behind me, lifting me a second time so I was now sitting sideways across his lap.
Distressed, I tried to slide off, but he ordered, “Don’t. Move.”
I didn’t. I couldn’t, because Nova had started moving, and I feared I would fall and be trampled under her hooves. Xander shifted me again and wrapped his hands around me, pressing me close. My head lay in the crook of his arm, his vest against my cheek.
This close, I couldn’t help but study the threads of his long sleeve. Along the cuff was a dark red stain.
He didn’t speak, and now that I was close to him, I didn’t feel scared. I was safe. After a terrifying night, I found myself at peace enough to fall into a light sleep. Just as I was nodding off, I swore I felt the lightest feathery kiss across my brow.
“We’re back,” Xander whispered when we were within sight of the manor.
Opening my eyes, I noticed the hard clench of his jaw, the tenseness he carried in his muscles. His left hand was wrapped around my waist to keep me from slipping, and even his arm felt like iron. Why would coming back make him so apprehensive?
Our arrival back at the manor was completely different compared to yesterday’s. Guards lined the entrance, crossbows resting against their hips. Their faces were grim and mirrored the worried look of Yassa himself, who stood next to a wagon. We rode up, and I could see there was a body lying in the back, wrapped in muslin.
My mouth went dry. I could tell from the tall stature that it was a man. My heart pounded fast, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he had russet brown hair like my dream.
“Oh, you’re safe, Your Highness,” Yassa cried out, stepping down from the front steps and wringing his hands. “We thought the beast had gotten you too.” He pointed at the wrapped corpse.
“I am fine,” Prince Xander said firmly as he dismounted.
An urgency filled me, and I struggled to get off the horse. Xander was loath in letting me go, but finally he sighed and carefully held on to me until my feet were firmly planted on the ground. Veil forgotten, my heart was in my throat as I moved toward the body. My hairpins had fallen out, and my eyes were red-rimmed and dry from lack of sleep; I assumed I would look closer to a ghost than a princess. Stopping inches from the wagon bed, I glanced over and saw a tanned hand sticking out from the canvas, fingers covered in dirt and mud.
My approach had caused the conversation to halt, as Yassa and Prince Xander watched my movements with renewed interest. Their opinion didn’t matter—only he did. I reached for the edge of the canvas and lifted, my hand trembling as I saw his dark brown hair and what was left of his face.
I knew what I was about to do was taboo and against everything the kingdom of Baist stood for. Only those with my gift, or curse, could call this power.
I slipped my hand down his cold arm and touched his fingers. His fear consumed me, and I gasped in pain. I could almost see his attacker as his death vision touched me. The last few seconds of his life flashed before me. His terror was my own: black fur, teeth, blood, and then death.
I dropped the cloth and clutched my frightened heart, trying to calm my shaking hands and regain my breath. Tears streamed down my face as I struggled under the weight of his death all over again.
“It was the beast,” I confirmed, turning to look at Xander accusingly. He had come here to stop the killings and had failed. I had to grasp the wagon to keep myself from sliding to the ground.
“Witch!” Yassa called out. “She touched the dead. You saw her. She is unclean and must leave our pure lands.” He pointed at me, the jowls under his chin shaking in rage.
“Watch your words,” Prince Xander warned. “Know who you are speaking to.”
“Apologies, my prince,” Yassa said, only apologizing to Xander and not me.
“Don’t fear, Yassa. We will get a party together and search for the beast. We won’t stop until it’s found.”
“Thank you.” Yassa bobbed his head and turned, signaling for the coroner to take the wagon to town.
Xander ignored me as he addressed Gaven. “When? Where?”
“Early this morning. He was tracking the beast when he was killed. Found a half mile from the manor.”
“Footprints?”