Page 17 of A Shadow of Betrayal

“I think the Ranger barracks,” she mutters, and I shake my head.

“I need to go home,” I plead with her before casting a dark look at the Viking, who mutters something under his breath and looks at the door like he’s in a hurry.

“You are home. Get used to it, Little Hunter. Now move,” Umbra Regalis growls, his hands fisting at his sides when I don’t move in the direction of the door. “Move now, or I will move you myself. I have other responsibilities than to guide you around the Castle.”

“Go, Meyer,” Elaine whispers, reaching out and squeezing my uninjured hand for a brief moment before she drops it and gestures to the doors. “I’ll find you later to make sure you are settling in. Besides, Theo will be at his wit’s end wanting to know what's happened with you.”

I unwillingly nod my head and slowly move toward the big, black doors, hoping I will be able to find Theo and see if he will help me get out of here.

NINE

Meyer

“What’s a Fracti?” I ask, panting a little as I run after Umbra Regalis. “That man, he said I might be Fracti,” I explain when he doesn't answer as he strides through the hall.

“You're not, so it doesn't matter,” he clips out, clearly annoyed with me.

“But, what does it mean?” I ask again, frustrated that he won’t explain it to me. I see his shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath and roll my eyes. Why is he suddenly acting like this? Only minutes ago, he was somewhat nice to me, keeping me on my feet while I was sick, and now we have done a full one-eighty.

Is he that upset that his bloodline has a new member? Or is he simply annoyed that he has to show me around and that I’m now his responsibility? I scowl at him, then my eyes widen at my next thought. What if I got vomit on him, and he’s pissed about that? I eye his shoes, trying to see if they look dirty, but all I see are plain black pants and boots, no puke or anything.

“It's Latin for broken. The Fracti are the ones that are born into the bloodline but don't have the sight. Now, pick up the pace,” Umbra Regalis grinds out, throwing a dark look over his shoulder at me for the hundredth time as he leads me through the maze of twisted halls. I puff out a breath, my lungs burning at the fast pace the big man has set, practically forcing me to run to keep up with him.

When he makes another right and moves up a winding, narrow staircase of dark gray stone, I mentally thank the stars that I didn't try to find my way out of here. I'm one hundred percent positive I would have become lost if I had tried.

“Do we have to run to the barracks?” I wheeze when he doesn't slow even the slightest amount on the stairs.

“I see we will have to work on your physical endurance,” Umbra Regalis mutters with a disapproving head shake when he gets to the next long, curved hallway.

“Hey, I have good physical endurance. But I have been slapped, magically knocked out, kidnapped, and sick. So I’m not in tip-top shape here,” I defend myself, not liking how he eyes me like I’m lying.

Umbra Regalis suddenly pauses, his foot raised in the air like he's about to move forward before he sets it back down on the step and turns toward me, his eyes moving to my sore cheek. “Who slapped you?” he asks, almost sounding like he actually cares as his eyes move from my cheek, which I quickly cover with my hand, to my eyes, before slowly flicking down to my lips.

I glare at him and roll my lips together, hiding them and making him scowl and shake his head before he curses and spins on his heel, marching back up the stairs. “For a human, you are okay,” he says, not waiting for my reply. “But for a Hunter…” he trails off, not finishing his sentence, but he doesn't have to. I know what he’s implying.

“Sorry, I wasn't training for my magical kidnapping. I’ll be sure to do better in the future to save you the embarrassment,” I snap, taking off after him, then groan when we come to another set of stairs. “How far are we going?”

“Keep up, or you’ll be running stairs for your warm-up tomorrow,” he says, looking down at me. I take in his infuriating, handsome face and wrinkle my nose at the lack of sweat and heavy breathing. Meanwhile, I can feel how flushed my face is, and the small trail of sweat that runs down my spine makes me wish I could find a shower.

“Damn Viking is on steroids,” I mutter under my breath as I look down at my feet and pick up my pace.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!” I’m quick to reply, my eyes widening when I realize he heard me. I curse when I trip over the last step and promptly fall forward, catching myself with my hands before my nose can crack against the cold stone of the mysterious Castle I’m being led through. I gasp in pain when the wound on my palm throbs in response and quickly cradle it to my chest.

“Fucking old man with the stupid fucking knife,” I hiss between clenched teeth as I look down at my now scratched-up hands. The scratches aren't deep, but the cut that runs from my wrist to my palm has re-opened and has started to bleed again.

A huff of annoyance is all I hear before Umbra Regalis crouches in front of me and grabs my hands, lifting them up to inspect them. His dark brow furrows as his big thumb runs over the length of the long gash on my palm. My heart skips, and I have a moment of self-hatred that I find this man attractive. Nothing is going on for personality, but damn, him being this close to me makes my thighs want to clench together and search for that friction I know he probably would provide.

Fuck… I need to get laid. That's probably why I have been physically reacting to this guy so much. It's because he’s so hot. It’s been far too long since I’ve had a good orgasm, and I think I’m starting to forget what they feel like. I had my vibrator back at my cabin, and sure, it got the job done when I needed it, but there is something different about feeling someone above you. Their skin on yours, the closeness you feel in that moment when it's just the two of you together…

Jesus, now I’m sounding like some love starved fool.

“Why haven't you healed yet?” Umbra Regalis asks, and I watch him closely, remembering that Theo’s mom called him Lennox, and I can't help but think the name suits him.

“Umm, because it happened less than thirty minutes ago?” I supply unhelpfully, making his annoyed green eyes flick up to meet mine. I blink in surprise when I see several thin white lines marking the right side of his face, the thickest of them running over his big black brow, leaving a scar that makes him look even more like a badass Viking.

“Very funny,” he snaps, then stands, making me squeak in surprise as he yanks me to my feet. “Mild abrasions on your palms. It's not something you need a healer for,” he grumbles, dropping my hands once I’m steady on my feet and turning to head back down the dimly lit hallway. “But your lack of strength and inability to heal at a rapid rate is concerning,” he adds, shooting me a look that suggests that this is a me problem that I need to fix. But how the hell am I supposed to heal myself faster? I look down at my bleeding hands and glare at them.

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