Page 45 of The Cursed Kingdom

Who’sthey? The other shifters? I’m not so sure Idon’twant them to smell and find me. My odds might be better with them. Unless they look and act like Mason. I draw in a shaky breath, horrified by the thought of facing more of those horrid animals.

“Let me see your knees,” Kie says.

He reaches for my legs, and I kick his hands away. My leggings are torn to shreds, and I can feel the fabric growing wet with blood. I’ll be damned if I let this man put his hands on me, though.

Kie sighs and glances at Mason. The two stare at one another, having a silent conversation, before Kie purses his lips and nods. I have no idea what he just agreed to, but it turns out it doesn’t matter, as something hard hits the back of my head a second later.

My vision tunnels, and I get less than a second to try to understand what’s happening before I slump to the side and pass out.

Chapter Eighteen

ABBY

MY TEMPLES THROB as I come to, each movement of my head beyond painful. I thought my caffeine withdrawal headache was bad, but it’s nothing compared to this.

My last moments of wakefulness run through my mind, and despite the overwhelming urge to open my eyes and jump out of the arms of the person currently carrying me, I remain still. It’s hard to do, but I need a second to collect my thoughts before facing Kie and Mason.

My left cheek is currently pressed against one of their chests right now.

There’s a rhythmic jostling, and although it’s fairly light, each movement still hurts. Mason struck me hard, and I’ll be surprised if I don’t have a minor concussion. I’ve never had one and didn’t bother looking up the symptoms before coming here, which I now regret.

I’m taking the fact that I’m awake right now as a good sign, though.

I work to keep my breathing steady, not wanting to give away that I’m no longer unconscious. I need to figure out what’s going on around me first. I’m being carried bridal style, one thick armunderneath my knees and another under my shoulders. My right arm dangles to my side, and my left is pinned between my chest and the torso of the person carrying me.

It’s too intimate, and I resist the urge to squirm.

The shirt I’m pressed against is soft, not causing any pain. The skin of my cheeks was rubbed raw when I was pushed into the dirt, and I wish whoever picked me up had let my head lull back instead of to the side. I’d rather wake with a sore neck than smushed against a stranger’s chest.

My head moves as the person carrying me inhales, and it returns to a neutral position when he exhales a second later. I hear his heartbeat, and it’s surprisingly slow. The faeries and shifters are strong, but carrying a full-grown adult through the woods should cause at least a little uptick in heart rate.

I don’t know how to feel about the fact that it doesn’t.

There’s no light behind my eyelids, and evening bugs are chirping in the surrounding woods, so I assume it’s nighttime. How long was I unconscious? Too long to not be panicking.

My sweatshirt pulls against my torso, and something crinkles against my right elbow. It feels like a bandage, but there was no bandage there before. The pair must have done something to me while I was unconscious.

Mason commented on my bleeding before knocking me out, and Kie asked to see my bloody knees.My knees.

I break into a cold sweat as I realize there’s a breeze on my legs. My leggings are tight, and while I can still feel the stretchy fabric around my waist and thighs, there’s nothing below my mid-thigh.

The same scratchy, crinkling material on my right elbow is also on both my knees.

Disgust boils inside me at the thought of these two men touching me while I was unconscious—even if it was to bandage me up. I’d rather be bleeding and achy.

Something loud chirps directly on my left, and I instinctively jolt.

My entire body stiffens, and the chest I’m resting against stops moving mid-breath. It pauses momentarily before continuing, but the slight break is enough. Whoever is carrying me knows I’m awake.

I hold back the urge to scream as I open my eyes and look to see who’s carrying me.

Kie’s piercing, violet eyes are already staring down at me, the sight jarring. His expression lacks all emotion, which only furthers my anxiety. I don’t trust it, not one bit, and I thrash against his hold in an apparent and desperate attempt to be put down.

“If you run, Mace will chase you,” he warns.

I hear the threat behind those words loud and clear, and my hair whips around my head as I look for the shifter in question. I don’t want him out of my sight.

Mason’s standing a few feet ahead of us, leaning against a tree as he watches Kie finally set me down. The second my feet are planted on the ground, I scurry several steps away. I don’t want to be close to either of these men.

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