Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
“No, no, stop! Let him go!” I managed to get my fingers between his throat and the vines. I tugged and yanked. I leaned in and shredded at it with my teeth. They weren’t sharp enough. I could turn to my wolf form but would that take too long? Would it be of any help?
His eyes were full of fear before they started to lose focus. I could see the curtain starting to draw. My heart was close to bursting. This couldn’t be happening.
I searched the porch for something, anything, that could help. A pair of scissors left out or a knife sitting on the ledge or a shovel with a sharp edge to it.
There was nothing. Just more vines falling from the roof and reaching down toward his legs.
The door to the druid’s home swung open. It slammed against the wall. “What’s going—Dylan?!”
“Help us, please, stop this!”
Hunter briefly looked from me to Miles’ unconscious body, the skin around his neck turning a bruised and stomach-wrenching purple. He said something under his breath and raised his hand, swirling it in the air then yanking it back toward his chest. There was a rush of air. The sickeningly sweet scent of blossoming roses filled my lungs. The vines eased, gently lowering Miles back onto the porch, laying him down before retreating back to their rooftop post, dangling off the edge as if nothing had happened.
I fell to Miles’ side. I grabbed his hand in mine. Cupped his cheek with my other. It took an agonizing couple of seconds but his shifter genes began to kick in. The bruise on his neck faded, turning back to his regular tan complexion. The cuts and scrapes that were all across his forearms closed, scabbed, and recovered. A straggling piece of vine had wrapped around his golden bracelet and broken off.
His eyes blinked open. They focused in on me.
“Oh fuck, thank god. Are you okay?” I asked.
He coughed and reached up for his throat. “I think so, yeah,” he said, his voice scratchy.
“I am so sorry.” It was Hunter, coming over and helping me get Miles back onto his feet. “Those are my watcher vines. They only activate when there’s a clear and present threat or some dark energy that usually comes with black magic users.”
“That’s neither of us,” I answered. “We’re both shifters, we can’t use magic like druids.”
“Yes, yes.” Hunter’s thin brown eyebrows twitched together. “They may have misread the situation. I will look into that. But for now let’s get inside and get you some water.”
“Thank you,” Miles rasped. He was already healed enough to walk on his own. I walked close to his side in case he needed some extra support. My heart still raced at about a thousand beats per minute. Adrenaline flowed through my veins like water in a raging rapid.
We entered Hunter’s cluttered home. It was like stepping into a blowout sale inside of a Michaels. There were dozens of random knickknacks and figurines with an eclectic assortment of furniture and a couple of those mass-produced watercolor cow paintings. We crossed through the living room, filled with dappled light from two arching windows. The trees pushed right up on the house, their branches scratching at the glass.
“Sit. I’ll bring water,” Hunter said as he motioned us to the large gray couch in the center of the sunken space.
Miles and I went to the couch. “You sure you’re okay?” I asked again. The adrenaline was being replaced by fear, along with another, more toxic, emotion: uselessness. If it wasn’t for Hunter, this situation could have been very different. I was powerless to help him. I was watching him die and there was nothing I could do about that.
The thought chilled me more than the residual fear.
“I’m good. Shaken but okay.” He sucked in another deep breath. Hunter returned with two glasses of icy cold water. We both gulped it down. He took a seat across from us, in a large black loveseat with an exaggerated back that almost swallowed his five-foot-seven frame whole. He seemed to have lost some weight since I last saw him, and he’d let his hair grow long enough to tie into a bun.
“I think some proper introductions are due. Hello, I’m Hunter Farenzie, a druid and a professional finder of people and things.” He held his hand across the polished, massive stump of a redwood tree that served as his coffee table.
“Miles.” He reached over and shook Hunter’s hand. “Good to meet you. Dyl told me you could possibly help me in finding someone.” His voice had already returned to normal. Thank fuck for our shifter traits.
“I certainly can try.” Hunter leaned forward, hands splayed on the table. He had piercing ice-blue eyes that verged on being creepy more than anything else. “Tell me more about this person we seek.”