Karak snorted and ran his hand through his hair as he dropped onto the furs next to her. Kregas hounds. They were a law unto themselves.
He slid a glance sideways to her. Pathetic creatures, they had no power resources of their own. Instead of building strength, they drew power from around them. Earth, air, fire, water… each faery had an affinity for one of the elements and used it to draw power for their magic. Alone, they’d never have held out against Batak’s army, but then those bastard dragons had thrown their lot in with the winged freaks and they’d become a serious pain in the ass.
He glared at the figure in a small heap on his furs and frowned. The black fabric of her strange jacket was unbroken over her back. No gaps for wings.
Unable to resist, he reached over and pulled the fabric up slightly to check, lifting the fabric of her tunic beneath with it. His greedy gaze slid up the graceful curve of her spine. Nothing, her skin was unmarked. He shuddered, thankful for that. As appealing as she was, the thought of wings made him shudder.
As if she knew he was thinking about her, she fidgeted. Her brow creased, her lips forming a small pout as though she didn’t like the content of her dreams.
Karak smiled a cold smile.
“Stay in dreamland as long as you can, little faery,” he advised softly. “Because when you wake up, you’re going to tell me everything I want to know. And I mean everything.”
A terrible smile curved his mouth and he readjusted his loincloth where it strained over his swelling cock. He had several… inventive ideas about how to get her to talk. And he would enjoy every single one of them.
Something was wrong. The awareness of danger reached down through the layers of darkness and semi-consciousness to hammer on Kelly’s skull like a woodpecker on its favorite tree. Wariness slid cold fingers down her spine, all her instincts screaming at her to open her eyes and meet the danger head-on.
She’d never come out of sleep so slowly. She was normally up with the lark, bright and breezy. She normally didn’t wake up groggy with a head so thick it felt as if she’d been on a three-day cocktail bender.
Keeping her eyes shut, she moved slightly to test the waters. Pain shot through her arms, twisted behind her back, quickly accompanied by pins and needles. She bit back a groan. Her wrists were tied behind her back and she was face-down on something soft and warm.
Memory hit her like a freight train. Finding her fiancé with another woman, her car breaking down… she gasped, the monster who chased her through the woods and her big, green rescuer. Then nothing. Blackness. She twisted her wrists again. She was definitely tied up.
Great, just fucking great. Big dude was obviously a serial killer or something. A serial killer into cosplay. It could only happen to her. She opened her eyes and looked around.
She was still in the middle of woods that looked like they’d come straight out of a post-apocalyptic world. The blackened, twisted skeletons of what had once been trees before they’d been blasted by… something awful surrounded her, reaching out spindly fingers greedily.
She suppressed a shudder. Some of those trees looked like they’d been alive and sentient once but had now been turned into the vampiric version of themselves, eager to seek the blood of anyone unwise enough to get within their clutches.
The flickering light of a small fire seemed to be keeping them at bay, the creatures perhaps fearful of the damage flame could do to their barky hides. Within the circle of light she was safe, hopefully. From the trees anyway. She eyed the shadows warily. There was no saying what other nasties lurked out there in the darkness.
Her gaze wandered over the small blaze and she noted the tin kettle dangling from a makeshift tripod. The bitter, smoky smell of coffee reached her, teasing and tantalizing her senses. Flopping over onto her back, she came face to face with teeth, lots and lots of sharp, pointed teeth blackened at the base.
She screamed, fear pounding through her veins, and tried to scramble backward.
“Claw! Leave the little faery alone!” a deep voice barked.
Her view expanded and she found herself looking at a dog. That wasn’t a dog… well, it would be if dogs were covered in scales, had a spiked tail, and boasted teeth like a shark. Black eyes focused on her as the tail whipped back and forth, and then the jaw opened and a black tongue flicked out.
She shrieked and tried to make herself as small as possible.
“For fuck’s sake, Claw! She doesn’t want to play. Get your ass over here, now!”
The tongue disappeared and the scaled dog slunk away, giving her the side-eye all the way.
“Claw, go patrol.”
She tried not to hyperventilate, watching the devilish dog until it slunk off into the woods around them. She’d hit her head. She had to have hit her head. That was just a German shepherd viewed through a concussion. “I’m screwed.”
“Not just yet, little one. But you will be if you don’t tell me what I want to know.”
The deep male voice slid over her in a rough caress, making her shiver in response. The voice wasn’t human. It couldn’t be. No human had that rough timbre, a rumble of granite with a hint of rich darkness thrown in for kicks and giggles. No man should ever have a voice like that. It spoke to the darkest places within her soul and opened the doors to her secret desires. Trying not to think about the unsettling effect he had on her, she didn’t speak, her attention sweeping to the figure behind the fire.
Fuck me. Make that double screwed.
Her cos-playing serial killer sat on the log opposite. He was huge—the biggest guy she’d ever seen. Acres of green-tinged skin met her eyes, muscles pumped and shining in the firelight. If not for the vicious axe across his back, he looked ready for some kind of bodybuilding show. A thick fur cloak wrapped around his shoulders and he had a leather loincloth slung low on his hips—
“Hey, princess,” he chuckled. “My eyes are up here.”
She snatched her gaze up guiltily to meet his. Okay, so he might be a serial-killing cosplayer into kidnap but he was utterly built. Who could blame her for looking?
She studied his face. He had a vicious scar running across one cheek, a pair of tusks—she’d never seen clip-on dentures that good—protruding from sinful lips, and long dark hair that flowed over his shoulders. The front part was pulled from his face and braided, with little beads on the end she was sure were meant to be bone.
“Cool costume, dude. Where are you supposed to be from?”
He frowned, black brows in serious danger of becoming a unibrow snapping together. “I am from the kingdom of Ukrantos, like all orcs.”
“Uh-huh.”
Must be a game or something. She’d never heard of it. But really, she wasn’t paying much attention to what he said. Instead, she was caught by the color of his eyes. They were a beautiful moss green with gold sparkles. She had to give it to him. He’d really paid attention to his costume… what with the tusks and the contact lenses.
But, as good looking under all that as she grudgingly admitted he was, the fact still remained that he’d tied her up.
With a small groan, she rolled to her side as fear did a jig down her spine in hobnail boots. It might not do her much good, but it meant she had her legs in front of her, so at least she could…
Do what, the little voice in the back of her head demanded, kick him before he slits your throat?