Power of Five_Book 1

by Alex Lidell

  My heart stutters.

  Thud-ump, thud-ump, thud-ump, the horse’s hooves pound, each step threatening to end my life. Thud-ump, thud-ump, thud-ump.

  A branch hits my face and I look up to find Mystwood rising before me, its trees thick and foreboding. Animals hate those woods, and I breathe a sigh of relief that the stallion will slow and veer away rather than enter.

  Instead, the horse’s ears press flat against his head and he thunders directly into the thicket without slowing his step. Right—it’s a bloody fae horse. It probably thinks it’s heading home for bloody supper. Thud-ump, thud-ump, thud-ump. The world flashes before me—the stones that will turn the horse’s legs, the tree trunks that come within a hair of slamming into my knees, the males who I may never see again. Another branch strikes my face, leaving a bloody gash across my cheek, as the horse gallops on along the winding path of Mystwood, the reins and my screams trailing in his wake.

  These woods are nothing like any forest I’ve been in before, the moss-covered trees seeming to lean in as I approach them. The sun shines in some places, but others are as dark as night under many feet of green canopy.

  Another sharp turn. Another miracle of survival. And then my fortune ends with a fallen tree blocking our path four feet off the ground.

  I register the barrier, my eyes widening with the lack of options. There is no place to turn. Nowhere to go but up, up, up, higher than I can survive. My mouth opens in a wordless scream but the horse shows no sign of slowing. Five paces to go. Three. None. The horse braces his weight on his hindquarters and leaps into the air.

  I fly off. The ground races up to meet me. The triumph of impact comes before the shocking echo of it, my shoulder screaming in pain as the world blinks in and out of darkness. I whimper, curling around my left arm, telling myself that I am alive.

  I hear it then. A horrid, immortal sound, like the scrape of nails on a slate mixed with the lower notes of gurgling phlegm. The woods crackle, branches snapping to my right. And left. And . . . the gurgling growl sounds again. More than one now. Closing in on me from many directions at once.

  Whatever beast has found me in Mystwood, it did not come alone.

  7

  Leralynn

  Fight or run? My breath comes fast, the pain in my shoulder slowing to a distant, dull roar as I gather my legs under me. The gurgling growls are moving closer and I still don’t know whether I’m better off trying to outrun it—them—or fight. Neither. I can do neither. Clean-picked bones. Mauled bodies. That is what’s found of humans who try to cross Mystwood.

  The branches shift, and despite the futility of it, my good hand tightens around a rock just as three . . . creatures step out around me.

  I scream, the sound piercing Mystwood.

  The things might charitably be called a mix of hog and human. They stand on hind legs, their front limbs long enough to run on all fours. The knees bend back like an animal’s, and their faces . . . red vertical slits for eyes, a snout of a nose, a protruding lower jaw with fangs that stick out for apparent lack of room inside the maw. Their lips—if the flaps of skin covering their mouths can be called that—fail at blocking yellow saliva from dripping onto their fur-covered torsos.

  The worst, though, is the delight flashing in those glowing eyes, which widen in concert with the increasing flow of saliva. They are not just going to kill me—they are going to savor every moment of it.

  Fight and run. Launching the stone in my hand into the closest beast’s snout, I scramble to my feet and sprint down the trail. One step. Two. Before my third stride lands, a massive weight crashes into me from behind. I fall onto my stomach, hot slime dripping onto the back of my neck and the stench of rotten meat so thick that I gag.

  Claws dig deep into my flesh, the pain a hot flame. This is how I die, then. At the claws and jaws of a nightmare. I brace for the killing blow just as another roar echoes through the trees, this one familiar and furious.

  Shade sprints toward us, a blur of gray fur and shining yellow eyes. Without slowing, the wolf lowers to the ground, his teeth snapping as he launches his body at the thing atop me. My breath stills. With the next beat of my heart, the weight on my back disappears, the rot replaced by a wolf’s earthy scent. I struggle up, holding my arm close, and find Shade atop the hog beast that held me down moments ago. Blood the color of rust spills from the hog beast’s mauled neck onto the forest floor, Shade’s muzzle dripping with more of the viscous substance.

  The other two hog beasts snarl their displeasure, circling Shade and me. They are twice the wolf’s size and salivating again, unconcerned with the fate of their companion. One of the two takes a step forward, and Shade is between it and me in a moment. The wolf’s sides heave, whether from the sprint here or the fight he’s already had. Without the element of surprise, he cannot fight off both hog beasts at once.

  I put my good hand on Shade’s back. “Run, wolf. I can’t run, but you can. Let’s not have two deaths where there need be only one.” I bite my lip and shove Shade away. “Go, wolf! Run, damn you.”

  My shoving fails to dislodge Shade but sends lightning up my injured shoulder. My escaped whimper might as well be a dinner bell. Both hog beasts grin and step forward, one swiping at Shade while the other stalks toward me. I’m about to scream at Shade again when the ground shakes, the very earth trembling.

  I should be afraid as I fall onto my backside, but instead something inside me sighs in recognition. The earth shakes again, and this time the magic of it echoes through my bones. Without knowing how, I know who’s causing this. River.

  The hog beasts hesitate, their maws swiveling between the morsel that is me and whatever their preternatural senses are telling them is coming. And what’s coming, I discover a heartbeat later, is three deadly fae males riding bareback at a full gallop.

  Tye’s hair streaks behind him, Coal’s a tight bun atop his head. The latter dismounts with the horse still running, lands deftly on his feet, and steps between me and the hogs. River gallops around me, dirt from his horse’s hooves spraying my face as he continues farther down the path, where more wet growls are now sounding. Tye, damn him, doesn’t bother swerving and jumps his horse clear over my head before disappearing after River.

  Coal’s sword flashes, slicing the closest beast from crotch to neck in a single swipe before squaring off against the other.

  Over my heart’s pounding, I try to slither back from the melee. With my life no longer in immediate peril, my body feels its injuries again and I whimper as my arm accidentally tries and fails to support my weight.

  Shade jumps at the quiet sound and lopes toward me. The male’s yellow eyes grip my gaze so tightly that I don’t register anything odd until a heartbeat later, when I finally realize that while a wolf leapt into the air, it was a fae male who landed in a crouch beside me. Shining, shaggy black hair cascades down to his collarbone, where a gray sleeveless shirt hangs open to show a muscled chest narrowing into a taut abdomen.

  A pair of familiar yellow eyes peers into my soul. “You are hurt,” Shade says, his golden skin and broad shoulders filling the whole of my world.

  8

  Leralynn

  “Sh . . . Shade?” I manage.

  The shock of seeing my wolf’s fae features for the first time nearly crowds out the pain in my body. If possible, he is even more stunning than the other three, with high cheekbones, a full mouth, and a sharply carved jaw. The lines of his face are strong and smooth, as if chiseled out of marble, and his muscles ripple under his skin like silk in a breeze. So this is who shared my bed last night.

  Shade runs his hands over my back and arm, his touch desperate. His nostrils flare, seeking out a scent. “You dislocated your shoulder,” the male says, his face tight and both his hands still pressed against my skin as if he does not dare let go. His voice has a silky, songlike texture, studded with rough corners of disuse. “There is more, but we must leave Mystwood before seeing to it.”

  I whimper and pull b
ack into myself as his hand slides to my forearm, jostling my hurt shoulder.

  “I know, cub,” Shade whispers into my ear, filling my nose with the scent of damp earth and rain. His shaggy, black hair is as thick as the wolf’s was, his body a pulsing warmth that I remember from last night. His fingers brush my skin. “You need to let me set it. Hold my gaze and it will be over quickly.”

  I can’t not hold Shade’s gaze. His yellow eyes sparkle in the sunlight and fill an emptiness deep inside me, even as my entire body yells at me to flee. I try and fail to stay still as Shade’s hands, warm and so large that I feel like a sprite beneath them, slide over my flesh.

  He shifts my arm again, this time with firm intent.

  I moan, struggling away from the hurt. “Don’t. Please.”

  “I must, cub,” Shade says, his breath caressing my cheek. “I know it hurts. Stay with me through the pain.” His arms roll my limb firmly, ignoring my screams as my sinews stretch and shift and promise to tear and—something inside my shoulder pops into place and the pain recedes, leaving a dull, throbbing ache through my left side.

  I wiggle my fingers and they respond obediently. My breath releases and Shade pulls me into his hard shoulder, stroking my hair in long, rhythmic strokes. Slow and warm and so very physical.

  Once my breath calms, I gather myself together enough to pull away from the male. Only to regret it immediately as our surroundings rush back into focus—the ravaged carcasses of dead hog beasts, flies already buzzing over their spilled entrails, hoof tracks and uprooted grass, the other males now missing. Fighting. Because of me. “The others?” I manage to say.

  A soft, confident chuckle. “They’ll be fine.”

  I press my face back into Shade’s shoulder, take three deep breaths, then pull away again—prepared this time. Shade releases me reluctantly, as if the loss of contact is hard for him to bear. I shift my leg until our knees touch and Shade seems to relax, crouching on the earth beside me.

  “You shifted,” I whisper.

  Shade nods, his yellow eyes darkening. A deep pain flashes in his gaze and he turns his head away—though not before I can catch his face in my hands. After spending the night curled up with Shade’s wolf, I feel at liberty to touch him more than I normally would. Shade holds still, allowing me to pull my palm along his cheek.

  “Why now?” I ask, and he lifts his chin in challenge. “Why now, after ten years?”

  “I couldn’t exactly set your shoulder in wolf form, now could I?” says Shade.

  “You could have not set my shoulder at all,” I point out.

  “No.” He shakes his head forcefully. “Leaving you hurt was never an option, cub.”

  I swallow, the truth of his words penetrating through me. “Why?” I whisper. “I don’t understand. I don’t understand any of this.”

  Leaning close to me, Shade inhales a lungful of my scent and closes his eyes in a moment of contentment before brushing his lips softly over my cheek. “Because without you, we are only half-alive,” he says into my ear. I blink, and by the time my eyes open again, Shade is rising to his feet, the squares of his abdomen shifting like building blocks beneath his skin. I’d have thought Shade’s fae form would be hairy, but his chest is smooth, the only hint of hair confined to a few curly tufts peeking out from his low-riding trousers. Shade adjusts his waistband, which falls right back down to his hipbones.

  My thighs tighten.

  “I’ve lost some weight since I shifted,” he mutters, and my face flames as I realize he followed the direction of my gaze perfectly. Abandoning the trousers to their fate, Shade stretches his arms behind his head and shakes like a wet dog dislodging drops of rain. His head cocks to one side and his eyes focus on something over my shoulder. “Coal is coming,” he says.

  I turn to see an empty forest, the three hog-beast carcasses the only sign of what happened. I shudder, remembering their growls, the hot breath on my neck in the endless moment before Shade arrived. I assumed Coal continued forward in the direction River and Tye had ridden, but apparently not. “You can smell him?” I ask.

  Shade shakes his head. “My wolf could, but I can’t in this form. The fae scent is stronger than a mortal’s but nothing compared to my wolf’s. I can hear Coal, though. He’s stopped just beyond the bend to wait.” A corner of his mouth lifts. “That’s Coal being polite, giving me space.” Squeezing my arm, Shade lifts his face. “Get over here, you bastard. And for stars’ sake, keep downwind or even Lera will smell you.”

  Despite Shade’s warning, I still gasp when Coal separates from the trees and steps onto the path a few paces away from us. He is covered with rust-colored blood and my eyes survey him from head to toe in search of injury. It takes me a moment to realize he’s doing the same, and we look away when our eyes meet.

  “Where are the others?” I ask in a thin voice, remembering that I’m the one who brought everyone into this mess.

  “River and Tye are going to hunt down the sclice pack,” Coal says, wiping his blade on his pants before storing it in a scabbard across his back. He wears a black sleeveless shirt, and his muscles shift with each smooth movement of his arms. Apparently, none of the damn males are bothered by the cold. “It’s worrisome that the beasts are coming this close to the mortal realm. Something to address with the Citadel when we get there, but for now a bit of cleanup.”

  I bite my lip. Coal speaks of the hog beasts as if they’re a few unwanted rats. “Are . . . are there a great many of those things in Lunos?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

  Coal doesn’t answer, our conversation apparently having stretched the limits of his tolerance for speaking with me. Turning to Shade, Coal gives the male a small nod. A nod. Some welcome back after a decade in wolf form. “Let’s move her out of here.”

  Shade reaches for me, drawing me close quickly enough that, if I didn’t know better, I’d think he were staking his claim. Within a moment, I find myself lifted off the ground and held against the male’s chest, while Coal draws his blade and takes guard in the rear.

  “I can walk,” I protest. At least, I think I can.

  Coal snorts.

  “We aren’t walking,” Shade says into my hair, his arms tightening around my body as he starts into a lope that a mortal could never keep up with.

  With the male’s brutally efficient pace, we clear Mystwood quickly. Instead of setting course for the inn, however, Shade and Coal turn in the other direction, bringing us to a burbling creek about a mile south of our temporary residence. Wide, smooth stones form a basin of sorts, the water falling from above and filling the enclosure before leaving through a gap several paces wide. Shade settles me onto one of the broad stones but doesn’t release me fully, one large hand remaining casually on the curve of my hip.

  “Why are we here?” I ask.

  “To bathe,” says Shade, while Coal strips himself of bloody clothing, oblivious to both my presence and the cold. “We’ve caused enough of a commotion just lodging at the inn without showing up drenched in sclice blood. Plus, it’s doubtful they have a tub big enough to fit any of us.”

  9

  Leralynn

  My eyes widen as Coal pulls the shirt off his broad back, revealing corded muscles and taut skin. An intricate tattoo twines down the groove of his spine, and my fingers long to trace the pattern in hopes of learning its meaning. There are scars all over his back as well. Some long and thin, others jagged and wide, interrupting the ink. The legends say fae heal better than humans do. If that’s true, the amount of force it took to leave those scars . . . My thoughts scramble away from Coal’s back as the male removes his pants and tosses them on top of his boots and shirt.

  The winged muscles of Coal’s shoulder blades taper into a diamond-shaped lower back. The carved mounds of his buttocks complete the diamond’s borders and round tightly before surrendering to honed hamstrings and calves. Coal might look like he’s in his mid-twenties, but there are centuries of training, fighting, and killing lying beneath
his skin.

  Shade chuckles softly into my ear. “You’ll find the fae less prudish than mortals,” he says, while Coal slips into the water with a small splash.

  I open my mouth to ask whether Tye and River will be able to find us, but the approach of two galloping riders, each leading a second horse, answers my question. Shade’s arms tighten around me as the two approach, releasing me only when River pulls his mount to a rough halt and jumps off, his hand reaching toward me.

  “Come here, Leralynn,” River orders, the command in his voice sending a shiver through my core. River is taller and broader than the others—though considering that I don’t clear the shoulders of any of them, River’s additional size shouldn’t make the difference it does. Maybe it isn’t his size.

  His jaw ticks and he steps toward me when I hesitate, his hands grasping my hips and lifting me into the air for a better look. “Are you all right?” he demands. “Talk to me, Leralynn.”

  My mouth is dry. I consider kicking him, but this would accomplish nothing—and hurt my foot. I brace my hands on his broad shoulders, which give off more heat than a woodstove. This close, River’s dominating strength and shimmering wall of command give way to velvety skin, an intoxicating woodsy smell, and keen gray eyes that survey me with soul-clenching intensity.

  “Am I in trouble?” I manage to say finally, my heart pounding. Maybe I should have added “sir” or “commander” to the end of that, but words are a scarce commodity just now. “For making everyone . . . come after me?”

  River’s brows narrow, studying my face. “Someone raised a hand to you in the past.” Not a question. He shakes his head violently. “I don’t strike humans, Leralynn. And even if I did, retribution is the farthest thing from my mind right now—I truly need to know that you are all right. There is no trick. There is only you.” His eyes widen as he stops speaking, a fleeting look crossing his face—almost like surprise at what just came out of his mouth.