Page 52 of Song of the Dark Wood

Rowan wanted to fight, but her body refused to move. He must have had some sort of magical influence. It was as if he’d placed her under a spell and all of her limbs were too relaxed to spring into action.

For all her courage with Conor, Rowan felt none now. She was going to die in the woods, just as Orla had. Aeoife would be alone. They’d send Aeoife in here, and this monster would get her too.

Tears streamed down Rowan’s cheeks. She tried to yank herself away but only succeeded in squirming a bit.

“Settle, lass. The worst is over,” the beautiful monster soothed.

The burn of the bite started to dissipate, and the monster pressed a kiss to the spot before pulling a long drag of her blood into his mouth. She felt like her soul was being rendered from her body in a warm tug that she felt all the way to her toes. It didn’t hurt, but she was shocked at how quickly she felt weak. Her knees buckled, but the monster had a firm arm wrapped around her waist.

Rowan expected pain but only found a sinking emptiness and heaviness in all of her limbs. Her vision dimmed as her magic rushed out of her along with her blood. She didn’t have long. Her consciousness was fading.

“Please,” she whispered, but the man’s grip on her just tightened. She had little left but surrender.

A thousand lives she’d never live bloomed in her chest. There were so many things she would have rather been than a sacrifice.The desire to live blew through her like a tempest, but she still couldn’t muster a struggle.

Sing,a voice in her head commanded.Sing!

She opened her mouth and a strangled note came out—then another. The monster seemed unbothered by it. It took all her concentration to remember the melody and the words, to force air through her vocal cords.

Sing,her mind begged.

Several more notes came out, and the forest stilled as if listening. Rowan sang a song of angry grief. A song she’d written years before when her mother had missed yet another visitation. The melody was soft, but the words and notes were jagged and angry.

There was a strange pulse around her as the forest shifted. The trees rustled. Perhaps Conor was finally catching up. Maybe he would save her. The rustling grew louder, like the gusts of wind before a storm.

The fear and the fight faded, and Rowan surrendered. She didn’t feel terrified. She felt peaceful as the monster drank from her. There was nothing but him and the warmth of his body pressed against hers. She looked up, trying to get one last glimpse of the sky through the spindly trees.

Suddenly, Rowan was struck hard from the side. She tumbled to the ground. There were sounds of a scuffle but she was too exhausted to move. She could barely keep her eyes open. She stared up at the blue sky before her eyes fluttered once, twice, and then closed.

Rowan woke choking on a scream.She sat up quickly and nearly passed out from the head rush.

Blinking her bleary eyes, she tried to focus on her room. It was a meditation technique meant to calm her. She looked at the detail on an elaborately carved canopy bedpost. Her hand brushed over the soft white linens, far finer than the ones on her bed back at Maiden’s Tower. A roaring fire burned in a large fireplace, the frame of which was carved with floral patterns similar to those decorating the bed. Pale green velvet curtains layered with sheer fabric lined the windows, and two large, hunter-green velvet chairs sat by the fireplace, just waiting for her to curl up and read a good book.

She was in her room at Wolf’s Keep. She wasn’t dead.

The horror of the Dark Wood crashed over her. Despite her best efforts to fight it, she was caught in the memory of it. Her whole body trembled.

“Lass, it’s all right,” Conor said.

Rowan’s head snapped toward his voice. He sat on the edge of the bed and took her hands in his.

“Conor?” She stared at him with wide eyes and, to her horror, she started crying. Loud, full-body sobs rocked her.

Conor looked as shaken as she felt. “Oh, lass, I’m sorry. Come now. It’s all right. I really shouldn’t be this close to you when you’re like this.” He awkwardly patted her hands.

She looked up and met his stormy eyes, her chin trembling.

“Ahh, Mother slay me,” he grumbled. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her into his lap as if she weighed nothing.

She curled into him, tucking her face into his neck, and sobbed. She expected him to pat her on the head and pull away, but instead, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close.

“There now, you’re safe,” he whispered. He rubbed her back until her sobs turned to sniffles and her breathing calmed, and she drifted back under the heavy blanket of sleep.

She woke a few moments later, or perhaps an hour. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but she was still in Conor’s arms.

Touch was a luxury in Rowan’s life. It was wonderful to be held while he rubbed slow circles on her back. She was ecstatic from the thrill of it. Like a child hopped-up on too many sweets, she was hopped-up on his touch.

He flinched away, realizing she was awake again.

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