“Damn bloodsuckers! Boys, be fast!” that first voice came again, somewhere from the trees. “We ain’t dealing with just wolven! Aim for the head!”
Okay, the fact that this Dead Bones Clan knew about the wolven and the Atlantians was interesting. And I—
Fiery pain lanced across my skin as an arrow shot by me, grazing my arm. I sucked in a sharp breath as I darted back behind the elm, shaking my wrist as if that would somehow lessen the burn.
It didn’t help all that much.
Screams of pain pierced through the distant snarls. Gritting my teeth, I looked over my shoulder, no longer seeing Casteel or Delano. Naill was gone too. I stayed still until I saw a shifting of shadows and a flash of movement to my left. I zeroed in on it.
I fired the bolt just as the sound of pounding feet whipped my attention to the right. A man ran at me—at least I thought the tall, broad shape was a man, but I couldn’t be sure. His face was covered by something that looked like leather. Clumps of brown hair poked out from the mask. He carried no bow, but rather some sort of club, and he was fast for someone his size.
“Shit,” I whispered, whirling toward the quiver. I grabbed a bolt and nocked it quickly.
The man swung the club before I could fire. I ducked but wasn’t fast enough. His club caught the bow, knocking it from my grip with one shattering blow. He laughed. “What kind of bitch are you?” he asked as I jumped back. I recognized the man’s voice. He’d been the one shouting, and now that he was only a foot or so from me, I could see why I thought his mask was made of leather.
And I could also see that Casteel hadn’t been joking when he said that the Dead Bones Clan operated on the waste-not-want-not creed.
It was skin.
Human skin that had been stretched to fit over his head, stitched in jagged pieces around the openings that had been created for the eyes and mouth. My stomach churned, but I didn’t cave to the rising nausea.
“Are you part dog, or do you like to suck on things?” he asked, switching the club to his left hand. “If you beg nicely, I got something you can suck on.” He reached down, grabbing what I could only assume he was referencing. “Your face may be a mess, but your mouth looks just fine.”
Heart pounding, I darted out of reach of the club as he swung it again. I reached inside my cloak, unsheathing my dagger. I stilled, waiting as my fingers opened and closed around the handle. I had to be quick and smart. I’d only have one chance.
“I bet you’re one of those wolven bitches. Hear they like their women all cut up.” He made a calling sound, one used to summon a dog, and my grip tightened. “Tell me, girl. What kind of bitch are you?”
He lifted the club again, and I made my move. Shooting forward, I slipped under his arm and grabbed the dirty tunic. Thrusting the dagger up, I used every ounce of strength I had to drive it deep under his chin.
“I’m this kind of bitch,” I growled. The muscles under the mask pieced together by human flesh went lax as I jerked the knife free.
Blood spurted in a hot spray. Whatever he was about to say ended on a gurgle. The club fell from his hand, and then he toppled like a tree, straight and forward, taking me down with him.
I hit the pine-needled, snow-crusted ground with a grunt as air punched out of my lungs. The man was limp, his grotesquely masked face smashed into my shoulder.
“Dammit,” I muttered as his heavy weight sank into me. He smelled like rot and other things I didn’t want to think about. I tipped my head back against the ground. “This is just great.”
A flutter of wings drew my gaze to the sky. My eyes narrowed as that large hawk from before appeared overhead, gracefully circling before disappearing into the trees. A wing, caressed by the sun, gleamed silver. I really hoped my new cloak didn’t end up drenched in blood.
Sighing, I gathered up my strength and shoved at the man, managing to get him at least partway off my chest. I drew in a deep breath—
The man was suddenly lifted up and tossed aside like he was nothing more than a bag of small rocks. I had no idea where he landed. All I could do was stare at Casteel.
He stood above me, his face splattered with dots of red. “You’re bleeding.”
“You have three arrows sticking out of you.”
“You’ve been injured. Where?” He knelt beside me, ignoring my somewhat unnecessary observation.
“I’m fine.” I sat up, my eyes glued to the arrow jutting from his stomach as I sheathed my dagger. “Does it hurt?”
“What?”
“The arrows.” I paused as he grasped my left arm, pushing the cloak aside. The arrows that are sticking out of your body.”
“It’s nothing more than an annoyance.” He turned my arm, and I winced. “Sorry,” he said gruffly as he exposed the tear in the sleeve of my tunic.
“They’re inside your body,” I repeated. “How can that only be an annoyance? Is it because you’re from an elemental bloodline?”
“Yes.” His features sharpened as he carefully peeled back the edge of my sweater. “The wounds will heal as soon as I pull the arrows out.”
“Then why haven’t you done that yet?”
“Because they will not fester, unlike your wound if dirt gets into it.” His gaze flicked up, and his eyes snagged my focus. The pupils seemed larger. “Are you worried about me, Princess?”
I clamped my mouth shut.
“You are, aren’t you? I heard you scream my name when I fell from the horse,” he continued, and it was weird for him to tease after riding in silence for hours—and with three arrows sticking out of him. “Your concern warms the same heart you’ve so grievously wounded.”
I shot him a glare. “You’re no good to me dead.”
One side of his lips quirked up as he stared at my arm. “Looks like a flesh wound. You’ll live.”
“I told you I was fine.”
“Still needs to be covered.” He rose, bringing me with him. Stepping back, he tore off a piece of his cloak. “Not the most hygienic of options, but it will work until we reach Spessa’s End.”
The crunch of needles drew my gaze. I saw Delano slinking between the pines, still in his wolven form. Streaks of red stained his fur. His pale-eyed gaze moved from Casteel to me, and then he took off in a powerful lunge, darting between the trees.
“Where is he going?”
“Probably to retrieve the horses,” Casteel answered.
I glanced up at him. He stood beside me, holding my arm in one hand and the cloth in the other, but he made no move to cover the seeping wound. He was just standing there, the hollows of his cheeks shadowed.
The throbbing in my arm fell to the wayside as concern did take root. “Are you sure you’re all right?” I asked. “Maybe you should pull those arrows out or something.”
His throat worked on a swallow, and his lips parted. There was the barest hint of fangs.
“Casteel,” Kieran called out from behind us.
The Prince blinked, lifting his head to look over my shoulder. His pupils seemed even bigger, crowding out the amber of his irises. Instinct sent a shiver of warning through me. “I’m fine.”
“You sure about that?” Kieran asked.
I watched Casteel closely, wondering what was wrong with him. “Your eyes,” I whispered. “The pupils are really large.”
“They do that sometimes.” He cleared his throat, finally moving as he repeated louder, “I’m fine.” He wrapped the strip of cloak around my upper arm. “This may hurt.”
It didn’t feel all that great as he tightened the makeshift bandage, tying it so it stayed in place. Once done, he lowered my arm and draped the cloak over it. I watched him step back and look down at himself, still…well, still concerned for him. “Thank you.”
His gaze flew to mine, and there seemed to be a bit of surprise in those odd eyes. He nodded and then looked at Kieran. “Are there any left?”
“Those alive ran back to whatever homes they’d fashioned for themselves,” Kieran stated. “Naill is scouting up ahead to make sure we don’t run into any more.”
Wanting to know how these people knew what Kieran and Casteel were, I twisted at the waist—
Every single thought fled. My mouth dropped open. “You’re naked!”
“I am,” Kieran replied.
And he was.
Like completely naked, and I saw way too much tawny-hued skin. Way too much. I quickly spun around, my wide eyes clashing with Casteel’s.
“You should see your face right now.” Casteel gripped the arrow in his stomach. “It looks like you’ve been sunbathing.”
“Because he’s naked,” I hissed. “Like, super naked.”
“What do you think happens when he shifts forms?”
“The last time his pants actually stayed on!”
“And sometimes they don’t.” Casteel shrugged.
“Those pants were looser, I suppose,” Kieran stated. “There’s no need to be embarrassed. It’s only skin.”
What I saw was not only skin. He was…well, his body was a lot like Casteel’s. Lean, hard muscle and…
I wasn’t going to think about what I saw.
At a loss for what to say, I blurted out in a whisper, “He has to be cold!”