Page 5 of Recurve Ridge

A thin, strained keening tore from her throat in a pathetic whimper that shrouded my thoughts in a tempting promise of violence.

What the hell happened to this woman, and who do I have to kill to make it right?

2

MARI

I thrashedagainst the twin logs of pure muscle hefting me over the forest floor while for the second time in my life, a giant of a man kidnapped me. This time, my giant had kind forest-green eyes and spoke in riddles my mind couldn’t untangle, though it did protest that I needed to run and run and run.

Dregs of adrenaline coursed through my body, though my hands shook against his back. The hit diluted my fear until I exhausted my supply, leaving me useless and filthy, unable to protect myself from whatever came at me next.

Not that I’d been able to protect myself in the first place, reduced to a fleeing mess the momenthedumped me onto the forest floor. My brain still screamed at me to run, but my body crashed against its fresh imprisonment.

Wantingto believe that warmth equated with safety, though I knew better.

My new mountain man walked for long minutes through a snow-laden forest I barely saw, his stride blurring into an unmeasurable time, my body torn between memory and reality. Pins and needles assaulted my toes as he rubbed feeling back into my limbs that twitched about on their own with renewed circulation.

I supposed I should be thankful, but instead I added the pain to my current catalog of bodily hurts that overwhelmed every sense while I tried to match my reality with my past and came up with a whole lot of confusion I couldn’t unravel.

And so I hung across his shoulder, my body giving pitiful jerks in the arms of the giant who carried me, too-late reactions to a trauma no longer fresh.

The behemoth ignored my feeble efforts to wriggle free as though I were no more than a flea on a mangy dog’s back. A horrendously strong and wild dog. I noted the beauty of both my captor and our surroundings in a disconnect. Beneath his jacket, my skin numbed, but instead of running cold, I blazed as with an injection of anesthetic, sweltering against his rough shirt.

All dark hair and soul-deep eyes that seared through me when he’d halted my flight through the forest. Now I hung over his shoulder, filthy and damaged, though cleanliness landed last on my list of concerns.Hehad stripped my identity away, baring me to the world as less than nothing.

Then, when I was at my barest, the man who carried me took my name. One of the few secrets I managed to keep to myself throughout my assault.

I gave that away too. Freely to the man who stood like one of the trees in his forest and refused to shift when I crashed into his solid form. Because surely this place belonged to him.

Rage broke through the fear steeping within me. I scratched at a hard lump on my arm and came away with bloodied fingers. Perhaps a splinter from my dash through the forest. I hadn’t cared about what happened to my skin during the deep-seated need torun.

Something broke inside me as my mouth ran free in a delayed reaction to everything. I cussed my new captor endlessly, uncaring of the outcome. What could hurt worse than when those hands had ripped me out from inside myself? But it was more than that. No matter what I told myself, this nameless, wild man feltsafe.And so I unwound my fears, my horror in a place where I instinctively knew that he wouldn’t hurt me more.

Before, my mind and body froze when the multitude of hands touched me, leaving their marks on my skin while I screamed in the silent confines of my mind. Now, those same words exploded from me in a delayed burst. The dual effort drained me faster than the manic energy that came on, leaving my breath ragged.

“You fucking monster, youstole me. Ripped me away. Let mego—” Breath lodged in my throat while a quiet voice in the back of my mind whispered,It’s not him. But my mouth didn’t care, the words tumbling forth without censure, seeking freedom. “Get your filthy hands off me! Don’t touch me, you bastards,” I sobbed as my rage dissipated, only to flare a moment later.

If he helped me after this, it would be into an early grave, albeit a well-deserved one.

Survival and freedom wisped by my outstretched fingers. I craved both like a starved woman, filling my lungs with an alien air, and wished I never left England in the first place.

It’ll be an adventure. A learning curve.

My parents’ disapproving scowls floated past the blurred forest that scrolled by my periphery with every heavy, though not ungraceful, footfall.

A learning curve. What a joke.

Joke’s on me.

What had to have been hours of running for my life gave me plenty of fresh injuries. At surface level, the forest had scraped me bloody. On the inside, unwanted hands had flayed me raw. My single source of warmth and security came from the mountain of a man who carried but hadn’t hurt me.

Yet.

“It’s okay to scream, Mari. It’s fine. You’ll be okay. Promise.” His voice came out rough, as though he wasn’t used to speaking so much, though his words didn’t strain with anger or fury.

I expected a mountain man not to have anyone to talk to, but apparently this one did. The trees, perhaps.

Words abandoned me after that, and I waited for the blows to come. Relief shot through me when he patted the soles of my feet in a comforting gesture as I slumped over his shoulder. A few soft murmurs, a simple touch, and he removed me from the panicked headspace.

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