Page 6 of Of Wind and Terror

Not again.

I won’t be someone else’s prisoner.

I take a step backwards—my mind chanting away, away, away—and San counters it with one forward.

Aleksander, I remind myself. Not San.

San—the flirty, cocky, jovial peasant who was unwittingly dragged along on this adventure—never truly existed. He was nothing but a façade in an attempt to carve his way beneath my defenses and get me to trust him. Open up to him.

“I’m not going to hurt you, my sweet cherub.” His voice is a low, husky murmur that seems to balance a precarious line between humor and barely leashed violence. His grin is as sharp as a knife's edge, but it’s juxtaposed by his light eyes that seem to glimmer with amusement.

I want to tell him to go away, to stop, to leave me alone, but I can’t. As always, my voice fails me, rendering me mute. This time around, I can’t even use my hands to communicate with him.

Because he’s blind.

Gaia, I feel like an idiot!

How could I have missed the warning signs?

Was I so desperate for a friend that I willingly turned a blind eye to all of his strange quirks and mannerisms?

He misinterprets my racing thoughts.

“You’re probably wondering where I’m taking you, yes?” He arches an eyebrow, though that cocksure grin never fades from his face. “What if I promise you that you’re safe? That you’re going somewhere you belong?”

He takes another step closer, but this time, there’s nowhere for me to go. My back meets the hard, unforgiving wall of the rocky tunnel. Stones dig into my spine.

“How about I tell you a little secret?” He chuckles and waggles his eyebrows. “Actually, let me show you.” In a singsong voice, he adds, “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours, my sweet, perfect cherub.”

I brace myself, but for what, I don’t know. Every muscle in my body locks together, and tension radiates across my shoulders and down my spine, causing me to stiffen. Bile burns the back of my throat as angry tears prick my eyes.

Is he going to hurt me?

Kill me?

How could I have read this situation so wrong?

San pauses, licks his lower lip, and then he…changes. That’s the only word I can think of to use, though even that fails to encapsulate the strange phenomenon I witness. One tick, a normal fae with obsidian-colored hair, blue-white eyes, and a belligerent smile stands in front of me. The next, he transforms into a creature I’ve never seen before.

He certainly looks fae—but a warped, distorted version of one. His limbs have lengthened, making him taller than anyone I’ve ever seen before. Even taller than Blaze, a feat I once thought to be impossible, considering he’s the biggest male I know.

His hair remains the same length, but the black is interspersed here and there with dark-blue streaks. His features turn sharper, almost pointier, and his eyes become a strange shade of blue with eerie white flecks around his pupils. Scars mar his cheeks and forehead. Some of them are red and puckered, while others are nothing but white lines. But his ears…

They are what give me a pause.

Most fae have slightly pointed ears, but his are significantly longer, arching upwards like a curved triangle. I only know one species that has these particular types of ears, and they haven’t been seen on fae lands in centuries.

Elves.

Aleksander is an elf.

A freaking elf.

Gaia.

He gives a dramatic bow, bending at the waist.

“Aleksander, Hunter of Amorite, at your service.” When he glances back up at me, a cheeky smile plastered on his lean, angular face, I realize that he can see. Those blue orbs of his lock on mine with an unerring focus and intensity.

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