I ran.
While the Crowthers were focused on Graysen—the audacity that he should overrule his aunt in the matter of me—I slipped through the doorway and bolted. I knew I’d have little to no time before they would realize I’d escaped and come after me, but I had to try.
No dark power wound itself around my bones, urging me on, increasing my strength and speed and endurance. Instead, I rallied the last scrap of energy left to me, burning through it, existing purely on adrenaline and desperation, and hurtled down the hallway. I gasped ragged, frantic breaths, pumping leaden arms. My lungs were aflame and blazed so brightly in my tight chest, I thought they might actually be on fire as I pushed myself faster, faster, faster—darting past servants, their faces a blur of startled glances and half-uttered exclamations.
No one stopped me.
No one would dare to.
Not with the fierce look on my face.
My father is here… My father is here…
I fled the same way I’d come, following the twist of hallways, flying through open and empty rooms, a short flight of stairs, and along the inner balcony that led to the grand staircase. I flew down its wide steps toward the entranceway of the fortress.
The sound of furious pounding came from behind the heavy oak doors. “Open this godsdamned door!” my father roared.
The young woman, Penn, who’d announced my father’s arrival to the Crowthers, had a guard on either side of her. They gripped the hilts of blades strapped to their sides. All three of them faced the massive entranceway. Unaware of my approach, Penn began to pull open the door.
My muscles burned in protest, legs ached with agony—
There…nearly there…
Pushing off the bottom step, I crossed the foyer. My bare feet smacked against stone. I yelled out to him, my voice almost cracking. “Father!”
“Nelle!” The rich timbre of my father’s voice, even if it was threaded with panic, surged through my heart, easing my own terror.
Penn half-twisted around to gape at me in surprise—
Both guards whirled—
But the door in Penn’s hands had already begun to swing open—
I caught the barest sliver of my father’s face: a bloodshot eye flared wide to see me, the emotion shimmering in its depth—relief and cold rage and anguish.
My hands reached forward, about to shove aside the shocked-faced servant and pull open the door. I wanted it gone between us, when—
Harsh fingers gripped my upper arms, biting my flesh and bruising my skin.
I was yanked back—
Swung upside down—
My stomach curved around a broad shoulder.
Gone, with only a single word drifting in the air like frothy wake breaking apart on the swell of an ocean. I screamed the name I so rarely used, “Papa!”
I screamed and howled, fought and struggled against the firm, broad hands that pinned me in place. The speed at which Graysen ran forced currents of air to whip through my hair, snapping it like a pennant. The world gave way to nothing but snatches of blurred impressions. I was gone in a series of twists and turns, through hallways and open-spaced rooms, too fast to take any note…
Into a star-flecked night, the clattering sound of cobble…
Swallowed up by darkness…
Around and around and around as we climbed a spiral staircase, up, up, up.
Abruptly, we slammed to a halt. I was suddenly upright, back on my feet, swaying drunkenly with streaks of grays and blacks whirling around me. Graysen’s hands were at my elbows, steadying my stance as my head slowly stopped spinning and a strange room came into focus.
I blinked rapidly, flinched, and shied away from the bright, harsh light flooding the space.
My father… My father…
I’d been stolen away before I could speak with him!
I hissed in rage at Graysen and tried to pull myself free. With this rope tied around my neck separating my connection to the wyrm, I had no superior strength, and it was a shock to discover just how feeble I’d become. My fight was pathetic, and it wasn’t me who freed myself. Graysen stared at me with those dark fathomless eyes and let me go as he stepped back.
My father’s here on the Crowther’s estate…
I flew for the door—twisted the handle, only to find it locked—thumped my fists on it, kicked it, shunted my shoulder into unforgiving wood, and pounded it some more with my battered fists. Nothing… Nothing! A great wave rose up—a tsunami, black and muddied with hopelessness—and then crashed down and pummelled me into despair. I barely heard the desperate noises coming from me above the blood rushing in my ears and the pounding of my fists on wood.
I have to get out…get out…
Two large hands closed over my wrists. Warmth and a hard chest met my back. “Stop it. You’re only hurting yourself.”
It was only then that I realized my hands throbbed and ached, and my knuckles were rubbed raw of skin. But that pain was nothing compared to my heart.
And he was responsible!
I slammed my elbow back, meeting his gut. He grunted at the sharp contact, jerking back. His grip loosened on my wrists. I wrenched my hands free and spun around with uncontrolled movement, stumbled, and hit the door handle with my back. Hot pain sliced down my spine, setting it on fire. A startled cry left my lips.
Graysen reached for me and I slapped his hands away, darting past him.
There had to be another way out.
Has to be!
I barely took note of the room as I ran like a panicked mouse caught in a maze, scurrying around the room, flinging open doors. It was one big circular room, much like a studio with an open layout and just two inner rooms—a large bathroom and walk-in closet—and no windows. Not a single one.
I stumbled to a frantic halt, breathing hard, my hands shaking.
Graysen stood in front of the heavy door to the room, watching me warily.
I stormed forward. Shoved him. “Let me out!”
Nothing. He may have well been made from stone.
“I want to see my father!”
“You can’t leave here.” To prove his point, he reached behind him and twisted the door handle. The metallic sound of the lock clicking free grated in my ears—of course, it would fucking open for him—and he pulled the door wide, stepping aside.
My gaze greedily gobbled up that open doorway.
Past the landing, I spied pale blue light gleaming over the curve of steps leading downward.
Graysen backed away—slow, steady footsteps—silently observing me as if I were a wild, cornered animal. I jittered on the spot. My gaze cut from him to the door, and back to him.
He swept his hand toward the open doorway.
It was a trick. I knew it was a trick. And yet, despite knowing it, I had to try. Like drowning beneath the surface of an ocean, knowing if I tried to take in a lungful of air that water would rush down my throat, I had to try.
I hurtled forward—
Just as I was about to burst through to freedom—
The rope around my neck snagged so tight it cut off my air supply. I skidded. My hands scrambled for the rope, at the agonizing pain squeezing my throat. I can’t breathe! I stumbled, my feet catching beneath me, and I fell onto my ass.
Zrenyth’s rope relaxed its hold and I sucked in rasping, burning breaths of fire.
Graysen loomed above me. The angle of his body blocked out the overhead light and his shadow fell upon me. “You can’t leave this room,” he said with icy calm.
Hot, blistering wrath exploded right through me.
Pushing to my feet, I shrieked, “You’re a bastard!” My voice was hoarse, my throat ravaged and raw. Savage, like the wild animal I was, I surged forward. Anguish and loathing reared in a toxic haze, clouding my mind and sending me spiraling into simple desperate action.
I hit him. An ugly strike. An ugly sound of flesh striking flesh, right across his cheek.
His black eyes blazed with pure primal rage, and something else I was in no state to decipher.
He got right into my face and roared, “Again!”
I struck out, slapping his face.
“Harder!”
I slapped his face, again and again, in a flurry of hatred and grief. Smashed my fist into his chest. Pummelled his gut. My knuckles stung where my skin was scuffed and bleeding, my palms throbbed as if I struck solid adamere, and the room filled with anguished choking sounds.
He stood there and he took it—everything I threw at him.
I kept hitting him, only half aware of the cry leaving my throat that sounded like heartache and felt like falling into an abyss—my limbs flailing, desperately trying to grip onto anything to save me.
Too much…it was all too much!
I crumbled. And before my knees hit the carpet, he caught me.