Page 5 of Between Realms

The bear dives for the ghoul’s neck. Its bone-crunching jaws clamp down.

The snap of its spine echoes through the forest.

With the ghoul’s death-whimper, the fight is over.

The bear turns its giant head to look at me.

Still stunned on the ground, I scurry backward and onto my feet.

One step back and then another, I try to not challenge the bear into an attack by staring directly into its hypnotizing golden eyes. But I can’t look away.

After sucking in a breath, I plead, “I’m a human. I’m sure I won’t taste very good.”

I keep my knife tucked close to my side, pointed down and unthreatening, but ready to bring it up to defend myself. With its massive claws, I will be lucky to annoy the beast with my sliver of metal.

The bear lumbers toward me. The ghoul’s rancid blood drips from its enormous jaw. In only a couple of quick paces, its muzzle is within snapping distance.

“Thank you for killing the ghoul. Now please, leave me alone. I will be out of your territory soon. I promise.” I close my eyes and wait for my disembowelment.

Instead, it sniffs loudly, and makes a chuffing sound, as if laughing at my acceptance of death.

My eyes pop open.

The bear gazes into my soul. I can’t look away. The depth of its being enthralls me.

Finally, the bear breaks the enchantment and saunters back into the forest.

When it’s out of sight, I gasp for air, shove the blade into my pocket, and snatch up my bag. Before I can hurry away from the scene, a male’s voice booms, “Female!”

Although I’m accustomed to and usually unfazed by Elven stealth, the bear encounter has frayed my nerves. I jump and tense, clutching the blade’s handle in my pocket.

The male sounds angry.

My heart races.

Did he see my dagger?

3

OAKES

WYNSTELLE

Islowly turn to face the angry male, gripping the dagger now inside my pocket. I can tell by the commanding voice the person behind me is an elf, and thus one of my superiors by default.

“Yes, my lord?” My tone radiates my anxiety and fear of punishment just for being a human. If he has seen the blade I carry, I will likely be executed for it.

My hand tightens on the leather grip. I can’t use the blade against him, but it gives me some sense of control until I figure out why he’s angry.

I can barely suppress my gasp as I catch sight of him. Nearly two heads taller than me, he is one of the tallest and most muscular elves I have ever seen. He is also the most attractive, which is saying a lot. I study him, guessing I wouldn’t quite be able to wrap my arms all the way around his broad shoulders. Why do I imagine measuring him with my own body? Maybe I knocked my head harder than I realized. I will never and can never touch an Elven male in such an intimate way.

His overwhelming size projects the image of an intimidating warrior, but it’s balanced by a gentle expression on his face. As he comes closer, I notice his eyes radiate worry, not anger. I realize now that the tension in his voice is concern for me. Odd.

“Are you alright?” the elf asks. His voice is deep and rich, matching his powerful presence. The sound of it vibrates through me like the intoxicating whiskey Merlara sometimes lets me sip in celebration after a large sword order is complete.

Shaking my head clear of that sensation, I check my body once more, in case I have an injury that hasn’t registered yet. “Yes. I think so.”

“Did I see abearrun away from you?” He turns to look over his shoulder, scanning the area.

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