Fall of Ruin and Wrath (Awakening, #1)

The Hyhborn lord pressed me into the dust and dirt as the sound rumbling out of him, and simultaneously through me, turned my blood cold. The growl was something akin to that of an animal— a very angry, very wild animal. Every muscle in my body locked up. In those brief seconds, I realized he might not be able to recognize me— or be able to even see me in the condition that he was in.

“Leaving so soon?” he snarled. “Just . . . as the fun begins? I don’t think so.”

He moved so fast— everything happened so fast, giving me no time to react. He jerked me off the floor. I stumbled, hitting the edge of the table. Buckets rattled, tipping over. I jumped away from the falling buckets. My booted feet slipped out from underneath me. I went down again, cracking my knees off the floor— the blood-covered floor— and it . . . oh no, it was still warm. I could feel it soaking my knees, coating my palms. I gasped, starting to push up.

“You wanted . . . my blood so badly,” he seethed, his voice gravelly and nothing like I’d remembered it sounding. “Now you . . . you will drown in it.”

My startled cry was ended by the hand that clamped down on my throat, allowing only the thinnest breath to pass. He hauled me to the side like I was nothing more than a rag doll. Panic exploded from deep within as I grabbed his hand and shoved my elbow back into his stomach. Pain exploded along my arm as I met hard, unyielding flesh. I tried to pry his fingers loose, but they didn’t budge as he dragged me across the floor. Straw dug into my hip as my arm banged into one of the still-standing buckets. Horror sank its claws into me. He fully intended to do as he threatened— drown me in his blood.

Tiny bursts of white exploded behind my eyes. There wasn’t enough air. My chest hurt as I beat on his arm, getting nowhere. I dug at his grip, legs thrashing as I struggled to free myself, able to force only one word free. “Please.”

The Hyhborn lord halted, his fingers still pressing into my throat. Then I was suddenly yanked to my feet. Pressure suddenly left my throat. Air poured in, and I gulped it, choking and gagging as my legs gave out.

I didn’t hit the ground this time.

The Hyhborn caught me at the waist, his arm tightening. He went completely still against me.

“Please,” I repeated, my heart thundering out of control. “I came to help you.”

“You’re . . . claiming you had . . . nothing to do with this?” he demanded.

“I . . . I didn’t.”

“Bullshit.” That one word brushed up against my cheek.

“I overheard . . . what was done being talked about.” I pushed against his chest, needing space— needing more air and light. He didn’t budge. Not even an inch. Whatever basic methods of defending myself I knew wouldn’t help against a Hyhborn. He held me like I was nothing more than a flailing kitten. “I was . . . I was trying to help.” I swallowed, wincing at the rawness as I lifted my hands from his chest. They shook as I held them in the small space between us. “I . . . I swear. They . . . they put Fool’s Parsley in something given to you— ”

Another growl rumbled out of him.

“I swear. I only came to help,” I whispered while my pulse thundered out of control. I no longer felt his breath against my cheek. Another moment passed and then the gas lamp flicked on, causing me to flinch. The dim glow sliced through the unnatural darkness. I blinked until my surroundings came into view.

I was staring at the Hyhborn’s chest— at the ragged hole that seeped blood and still smoked. . . .

He grabbed the back of my hood with his other hand, ripping it down. Hunks of damp hair shielded his face as he stared down at me.

Did he recognize me? That seemed improbable given that I looked nothing like I had more than a decade ago.

The Lord suddenly swayed. In the next heartbeat, he went down on his knees, taking me with him, except I landed on my ass before him. The gas lamp sputtered weakly, before staying on.

I started to scoot back, but stopped as he fell forward, onto his fists. Only the curve of his chin and one side of his lips were visible. His shoulders were moving now with rapid breaths.

“Why?” Each breath he took sounded pained. “Why would . . . you . . . help me?”

“I don’t know.” I pulled my legs away from him. “I just didn’t think what they were doing was right, and I needed to help.”

He said something too low for me to really hear. My gaze swept over what I could see of his bent body. He was breathing too hard, too fast. Concern rippled through me. “I didn’t know what condition you’d be in when I came to help.” I glanced at the red, seeping wound along his arm. He had . . . he’d pulled his limbs free from the spikes. “I removed the spike from your chest.”

There was no response.

“My lord?” I whispered, the concern growing into full-blown anxiety.

Silence.

“Are you all right?” I cringed the moment the question left my mouth. Of course he wasn’t all right. He’d just been drugged, beaten, and impaled to a table.

Biting down on my lip, I leaned forward as I lifted my hands. Carefully, I brushed the hair back from his face—

I gasped, jerking in horror. The striking lines of his face were contorted in pain. His eyes were open— at least that was what I thought, but I couldn’t be sure, because what I saw was just pink, raw, and seeping flesh where eyes should be.

“They took them,” he breathed.

A frayed sort of sound choked me as I stared at him, unable to comprehend how that could be done to anyone. How someone could inflict such damage, such pain. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, my own eyes stinging. “I’m so sorry— ”

“Stop,” he grunted, rocking back, out of my reach. “You have . . . nothing to apologize for if you . . . didn’t do this.”

A hole opened up in my own chest. “I’m still sorry.”

“Don’t be. They’re already growing back.” Another shudder went through him. “Regenerating.”

I lowered my hands to my lap. “That’s . . . that’s reassuring.” I swallowed, wincing at the dull ache in my throat. “I think.”

He made a sound I thought might be a laugh, but then fell silent, his breathing slowing.

I glanced at the opening to the stall. “We should— ”

“Are you hurt?” he barked.

I gave a little jump. “W-What?”

That deep, skin-chilling sound rumbled from him again. “Did I hurt you? When I grabbed you?”

“No,” I whispered.

His head tilted up, and a few strands of hair fell to the side, revealing just the height of one sharp cheekbone and one eye that no longer looked as raw and mangled. “You lie.”

“N-No, I don’t.”

“You’re rubbing your throat. The same throat I was just seconds away from crushing.”

My fingers stilled. His reminder was unnecessary, but could he see now? I dropped my hand.

Several more moments passed. Neither of us moved or spoke, and I needed to get moving. So did he. I peeked at the door again.

“I’m sorry.”

A jolt ran through me as my gaze flew back to him.

“When I came to, I . . . just reacted,” he continued gruffly, his hands falling to his thighs. “I wasn’t in my right mind. Thought . . . you had . . . something to do with this.”

I stared at him, intuition silent, as it normally was when it came to Hyhborn, but his apology sounded genuine.

The creak of rusty hinges came from the front of the barn, jerking my attention to the opening. My stomach lurched. That was likely not a rat. Dread surged through me. No one could see me here, with him.

“Stay here,” I whispered, pushing off the floor as the Lord slowly turned at the waist, to the opening of the stall.

As I hurried past him, I didn’t know what I was going to do or say if someone had entered, but as powerful as any Hyhborn lord was, he was gravely wounded. He was likely going to be of little help.

I stepped into the center aisle, my hands trembling. One barn door was half open. I saw nothing as I crept forward, lifting my hood. Wind could’ve picked up outside, blowing the door open. That was completely possible. I neared the two front stalls, muscles beginning to relax. It had to be—

The shadow darted out of the left stall. I lurched back, but wasn’t quick enough. A hand clamped down on my arm, giving it a painful jerk.