Page 12 of Born of Blood and Thorns

"Wait!" I called out to his retreating form.

The castle nestled in the distance ascended fast, and I was soon rushing up the steps toward him and the massive front door. I reached out to grab his arm. Why, I didn't know. I knew I should be running away from him, not toward him. I also knew what awaited me out there. My best chance was here. I wanted to figure out this place, this man, his dragon, and how he had saved me. Not out there where only death and worse awaited me.

As my fingers grasped his overly warm, muscled arm, the man went instantly still, and I slammed into the back of him. A low snarl emanated from his lips, making my blood run cold.

"Get your hands off me." He growled low as it rumbled menacingly from deep within his chest.

Before I knew it, he grabbed me fast and hard, pulling me inside the house. He pushed my back hard against the thick wood of the door and towered over me. His skin was too close. I felt the burning warmth like a caress on my skin.

I knew my heart was pounding wildly, and in case he might be a shifter or other supernatural creature, I forced the fear down with a swallow and took deep breaths before lifting my chin and meeting his stormy blue gaze. Dark auburn tendrils of long hair fell over his face from the tie holding most of it back.

He wasn't devastatingly handsome or even ethereal like the fae and vampires. No, he was rugged in a way that you couldn't deny he was a man. His jaw could cut glass, and his high cheekbones pointed toward a full, sensuous mouth. His nose was thin and a shade too large in profile. He was handsome, but his presence made him so much more. It was commanding and purely masculine.

He leaned in to sniff me, his jaw scraping against my cheek as the rough hair felt like sandpaper. His hot breath along my neck and ear sent gooseflesh down my body and heat in my core. I stood still, unsure what to do, before he pulled back and glared at me through long, dark lashes over moonlighters.

"Death clings to your skin like a poison." His lips curled, and I shoved him back hard, flashing my teeth like a vampire. Only no elongated canines appeared.

"Yeah, you mentioned that earlier. And you look like an idiot," I snarled back.

A ghost of a smile tipped the edges of his lips, and his eyes crinkled briefly before the expression vanished. "I can't argue with that," he deadpanned before turning and walking away, deeper into the castle while leaving me to stare after him.

It was then I looked around the room. Various odds and ends were scattered to and fro. Stacked furniture was pushed into a corner that seemingly didn't belong in the space. What couldn't be denied was the opulence of the castle. There was gold everywhere—gold-lined paneling and wainscoting.

Gold frames, golden objects of art, gold trimmed and yet dusty crystal chandeliers, and the castle's foyer opened up to a large room that I now took in. It was massive, like a ballroom. Two large staircases branched off on the sides until they converged together in the middle, disappearing into the top level, leaving an open landing for those above to look down onto the floor below.

The ceiling was made of gold and colored glass tiles as the morning sun hit it, creating a light prism that highlighted the whole room. Catching the dust particles in the air, including the massive amount of odd dusty objects and furniture that seemed abandoned on the floor.

It was then the man turned, looking me up and down, and his cold blue eyes softened as he noted the scrapes and nicks found all over my body. The ill-fitting shoes and the general state of my decimated body. He reached for my hands, and I flinched, snatching them back suddenly.

"Let me see," he asked, holding my stare. "Please."

He gently took my hands and examined the cuts I'd received from brambles and thorns while running in the forest. He shook his head at the damage as he examined my injured body.

We were deep into the castle, and he led me by gently taking my hands into his as if afraid he would hurt me. His words and actions were so contradictory that they made my head swim, so I focused on anything but him.

I felt hyper-aware of his presence—of the way his body was close to mine and the way my heart sped up as he leaned closer. For the briefest of moments, I thought maybe he was just as affected by my presence as I was by his until he pulled back, and his face bore no change, only cold calculation.

"You should be fine, but we should wash the scratches as soon as possible," he said before stepping away. The lack of heat made me chillier, so I examined the castle again to calm my nerves.

The castle was beautiful and extravagant yet had the air of a tomb. I made my way through the furniture and objects scattered around, dust-covered, to the ajar door. I moved toward it, further distancing myself from the man who seemed both cold yet had such a caring touch. Peeking in tentatively, I pushed open the door, and the man followed.

We stopped in front of a long table, where the man pulled out water and bandages, cleaning and wrapping my cut-up hands. He was still gentle in his administration even though his gaze was laser-focused on the task.

"There," he whispered. "Now you won't die from infection before you leave." He stood abruptly, leaving me to jump up and follow.

"I have nowhere to go," I admitted, hoping that the tiny kernel of compassion I'd seen would be enough for him to grant me temporary sanctuary.

"Not my problem, though it doesn't matter anyway," the man barked. The room was much darker, as the window to the space was covered in a thick velvet curtain tied together to keep out the morning light. I dragged my feet forward and found him sitting on steps leading up to what looked like a dais—only it was empty.

No, not empty, at least not entirely. On the matching throne chairs were what looked to be pieces of porcelain shattered and arranged lovingly as if they could be pieced back together and made whole again. The man stood before them, his back to me.

Even in the dim light, I could see the tension, the thick lines of corded muscle that formed up his back as his hands clenched and unclenched the closer I moved to him.

"I'm sorry. I can't just leave. I need help," I said with more anger than I'd intended. "There are men after me. Men who wish to hurt me."

The man growled again, the sound inhuman. If I'd had doubts about his species before, they were confirmed then. He was a shifter. What type remained to be seen. The dragon from earlier was my best guess.

This entire situation was beyond weird, from the magic surrounding the property that made me sick in the woods to the furniture piled high and scattered through the castle—and now two thrones with broken porcelain. I was beginning to believe the creature before me had lost his mind in the worst way.

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