Trapped: Isa Fae Collection: Faction 12

by Isa Fae

  The man had come out of nowhere. One minute the room was completely empty, and when Miranda opened her eyes, there he was. Like he had appeared out of thin air. It took her a while to realize he was actually there. That he wasn’t a figment of her imagination.

  Once she screamed and struggled to conceal her body, it was like something snapped inside of him. He had transformed into a feral beast.

  Before she knew what was happening, he had a hold of her hair. Pain searing through her scalp as he jerked her from the tub and towed her naked body into the bedroom down the hall. He flung her through the air, and Miranda landed on the bed. For a moment, everything left her dazed and confused. But then the man’s angry voice brought her back to the surface, to the reality of where she was and the danger she was in.

  “They sent me after a fucking temptress?” He stalked toward her, his hands balled into fists and his face contorted in rage. The man was much bigger than Mason. Not only in height, but in muscle. If he weren’t trying to harm her, she’d think him rather impressive.

  She couldn’t move out of the way fast enough before his fist hit her cheek, the force throwing her head to the side, the feeling of bones crushing underneath her skin. She had taken beatings from Mason daily, most of them worse than this man’s strike, but it still didn’t stop the tears from stinging her eyes. One never gets used to pain. It just doesn’t happen.

  Miranda flipped over in the bed and dropped her hand from her aching cheek. “You fucking asshole!” She had lived with Mason for years. Endured everything he lashed out at her. But she had to. It had been the only way to protect the others. Besides, she was his servant. This man in front of her was nothing to her. She didn’t know him. She’d never saw him in her life. How dare he think he could hit her? She’d rip this bastard to shreds. Miranda didn’t care how big his body was compared to hers. She was tired of being knocked down. She wasn’t going to take it anymore.

  Pushing herself off the bed, she leaped through the air toward him, not caring if she was fully exposed or not. The heat burning inside of her only wanted one thing. To fuck this man up. Her nails dug into his face, going even deeper into his skin as she latched on. She’d had one hell of a day, and she didn’t need this right now.

  But her attack backfired when the man grasped her hands, ripped her off his face, and shoved her away from him, causing her to hit the floor hard. The man didn’t yell out or scream when she dug her nails into him. He hadn’t even winced when she had jumped toward him. Almost like he had anticipated her fighting back. But still. Her nails had drawn blood. How could that not hurt him? Unless…she glanced up at him, avoiding his face at all costs. That was when she noticed it. The black bracelet around his wrist. Fae. But not only was he Fae…he was a hunter.

  Fuck. The fear rushed into her, her fury dwindling with each ragged breath. She had been right, but of course, she knew she had. Lord Manchester would never let her escape. And it wasn’t just because she had used her powers against him or killed his son. No. It was because she knew his secret. He had hired a hunter. The strongest one she had ever encountered. And she had encountered quite a few when she was with the Renegades. Tremors ripped through her body as he approached her. She had never been frightened of anyone before. But this man was different. She could have sworn when she clawed him, an electrical current shot through her hands. Then again when he grabbed her wrists. She had never felt anything like it.

  “On your feet, witch.” He stood over her, but refused to touch her again for some reason. Could he have felt the same thing?

  In truth, Miranda would have gotten to her feet if her body wasn’t shaking so badly. So much had happened in such a short period of time that shock had finally kicked in. Watching Sarah die, her near rape, accidently killing Huffington, and escaping into the harsh elements. Encountering the hunter had taken her over the edge. And she could no longer do anything except sit on the floor, her entirety going completely numb as the coldness set in. The man grabbed her arms and pulled her off the floor, the sudden zap causing her to wince.

  “Look at me,” the man demanded, shaking her, his fingers pressing down hard into her skin.

  No. She wouldn’t look at him. Miranda didn’t care that the current continuously fed into her body. She knew how strong he was. She could feel it. If she submitted to his request, he would win. Fighting to her wasn’t just about drawing blood, it was refusing to give in to demands. This normally pissed off her enemies even more. But she didn’t care.

  “I said,” the man latched onto her jaw with one of his hands, forcing her head up, “fucking look at me!” His voice was no longer in control. Fury had unleashed a beast inside of him.

  She had seen this before. A dominant characteristic of Fae.

  “You’re just like the rest of them!”

  And he was, so like most of the Fae Miranda had experienced, one as evil as the next.

  But it was the man’s pale blue eyes that caught her attention. They were like crystals. And she could practically see through them, see through all the hatred he held for her. But why? What had she ever done to this man? She’d had many terrible run-ins with Fae. Lord Manchester for one. But she had never taken his abuse out on all of them. In fact, she had been intent on protecting a few of them. One of them being Ronan. Even as a Fae child, the Lord took his fury out on him as much as he did the witches that were in his possession.

  “Like who?” She finally spoke, her curiosity had gotten the best of her. Miranda didn’t know if he was referring to only her kind. The witches. Or if his hatred extended to only woman. Had he been hurt before?

  The man drew in a quick breath, as if he wasn’t expecting her to speak. His eyes narrowed on her, tiny ice blue slits which should have sent chills racing through her, but they didn’t. Instead, she felt some kind of magical pull.

  Without warning, he shoved her backward, and she stumbled to gain her footing, but failed. She fell to the floor, the back of her head striking the metal bed frame behind her. A jabbing pain shot through her skull, pulling a few more tears from her eyes.

  “Lying, murderous witches, that’s who!” He spat the words at her like they were venom. “We should have never let your kind in here. You are a disgrace to our faction, and you do nothing but kill the Fae.”

  Kill the Fae? Miranda had no idea what kind of sick twisted game this hunter was trying to play with her. His words stung her worse than the knot forming at the back of her head. If anything, he was describing his own kind. She had seen the destruction they could do multiple times. Because of her, her mother became another one of their victims. They didn’t care about anything or anyone except themselves. And the few who did care, were considered traitors for attempting to help the witches.

  “How dare you say that?” Miranda shot up off the floor, glaring daggers at his icy blue eyes. “Your kind brought us here. Do you even remember that? You stole us from our homes. Only to use us for your sick pleasures. Fuck you and fuck the Fae!”

  The man lunged at her, fists balled and face blazing red.

  Throwing her hands up in front of her, she only meant to stop him, but her magic escaped through her fingers. She gasped as she felt the release, sudden fear consuming her body.

  The man flew backward, hitting the wall with a thunderous crash and shaking the floor of the cabin. He jumped up, eyes narrowed, and flicked his finger at her. Everything went dark.

  6

  Eric

  Eric had never used his Fae magic on a witch before. He didn’t have too. Except now. Normally they cowered when he approached them, tried to run even. But not this witch. She was different than the others. She’d been bold enough to use her magic against not only a Fae, but a hunter. And she was very powerful…for a witch. By injecting every witch with Fae blood at birth, it was impossible for her strength to match someone of his status. Why was this witch so different?

  As he watched her body for any sign of movement, Eric couldn’t deny two things about her. She was the mo
st beautiful woman he had ever seen, and he clearly felt the electric pulse under his fingers whenever he touched her. These things made her even more dangerous to him. He had to deliver her back to Lord Manchester, and fast.

  Feeling secure that this Miranda witch was totally out of it, he walked through the house until he reached the front door. He opened it, and snow spiraled into the cabin. The storm showed no signs of letting up. There was no way he could brave the elements and try to carry her at the same time. They would both die if he attempted to leave now.

  “Fuck.” He slammed the door and pulled his phone from his back pocket. No signal. He drew in a deep breath through his nostrils, gritting his teeth and tightening his jaw as he shoved the phone back in his pocket. His only option was to wait out the storm before he attempted to make his way back across the forest.

  Walking back through the house, he stopped to grab some rope out of his bag before returning to the witch. He stopped in the doorway when he reached the bedroom, his eyes falling upon the prone woman. What was it about her? He leaned against the entranceway, taking all of her in. What secrets did this witch hold? There could be no way she could be that powerful.

  Deciding not to take any more chances on her waking up, Eric crossed the room until he stood over top of her. He bent down and slid his arms under her, picking her up and holding her to his chest. There it was again. The tingling sensation from earlier.

  Pushing it away, he walked around the bed and placed her nude body gently on the mattress. After securing her wrists with the rope and tying them to the bed, he enchanted them with his magic, making sure she wouldn’t be able to escape them if she woke up.

  Knowing how chilly it was in the cabin, he knew he couldn’t leave Miranda completely exposed to the elements, even though watching her sent an unfamiliar warmness coursing through his body. Yes, she was very attractive. Too attractive. And it would take everything he had not to touch her in ways that would have her moaning his name. What he would give to watch her wiggle and squirm underneath his body. To watch her face as he brought her to pure ecstasy. He wanted to touch her now. Just to see how her skin felt underneath the tips of his fingers. He drew in a deep breath and clenched his jaw, shaking the desire away. He had to remind himself she was a witch. And a murderer. He couldn’t afford to lose himself in her. What the fuck was wrong with him?

  Quickly turning around, he spied the pile of blankets. Without a second thought, he grabbed one, shook it out, and draped it over her body. There. The temptation was gone. For now.

  Eric swiftly left the room, a sudden chill creeping through his body. Since he would be stuck in this cabin for who knew how long, he’d have to find a way to warm the place. He was aware of the fireplace, but he didn’t notice any kindling when he entered the house. He would have no choice but to go outside and brave the storm to scavenge for some wood. Sure, he had plenty of magic to make a fire, but it still required some sort of fuel to keep it burning.

  Instead of pulling on all his outerwear again, he settled on just his boots and his coat. He wouldn’t be outside long enough to need the rest. Besides, the thickness of his pants would only get in the way. Bending down to tie his boots, he paused for just a bit to check his phone. Still no signal. “Fuck,” he grumbled the word again, tossing the phone across the room.

  He marched toward the door, opened it, and slammed it shut behind him. What the hell did I get myself into? he thought as the wind and snow whipped around him, blowing the hood of his coat off his head. He grasped his hood and tugged it back up, holding it to his head with one of his hands as he trudged through the snow. Sure, he needed the money, even the extra magic Lord Manchester had been rumored to give out on special occasions. But would it really be worth it? Could he survive mentally being trapped in a cabin with one of these vile creatures? Yes, he couldn’t deny the witch was beautiful. But she was still a witch. End of story.

  After circling around to the back of the cabin, Eric noticed a tall snowbank against the side of the structure. Making his way over, he sunk his free hand down into the freezing moisture. Just as he thought. His hand hit something solid. He quickly dug through the pile of snow with both hands, ignoring the fact his cheeks and ears were now stinging from the wind and freezing temperature.

  Eric sighed with relief as he uncovered a pile of wood. He could finally grab what he needed and get back inside before he’d be forced to use his magic to protect himself from the elements. Something he didn’t want to do. Filling his arm with a few round logs, he turned and retraced his steps around the cabin. By the time he reached the door, he could no longer feel any of his exposed body parts. This wasn’t a good sign. He’d have to get himself warm. And fast.

  He opened the door and tossed the wood into the room, and then quickly grabbed the door before the wind tore it from its hinges. Finally able to get the door shut, Eric focused on the pile of wood. He reached down and grabbed one piece, taking it over to the fireplace and tossing it in.

  “Ignite,” he mumbled as he flicked a finger toward the piece of wood, causing it to erupt into flames. He didn’t really need to state his intentions, but it made him feel more powerful when he did. Hunters, especially Eric, were the strongest of the Fae, besides Lord Manchester. While Lord Manchester collected and stored all the magic in the faction, hunters were given extra so they wouldn’t have trouble taking down rogue witches, explaining the ease of Miranda’s capture.

  After stripping out of his boots and wet coat, Eric made his way through the cabin until he reached the room where his prisoner was tied to the bed. Good. She was still unconscious. He allowed his body to sag for a moment, exhaustion riding over him, and his hands scrubbed his face. He took one of the blankets off the end of the bed and sat in a chair a short distance away. Even though he was stronger, he still couldn’t forget the fact she was a very powerful witch. He’d never seen one who had the ability to affect a fairy the way she did. Especially him. A hunter. Someone who was highly trained to take down any witch. No way could he leave her. He refused to take his eyes off her. This was one witch he knew he couldn’t trust. Not that he really did with any of them.

  7

  Miranda

  She hadn’t killed him like she had Huffington. Part of that sent a sense of relief through her, but at the same time, it also meant she was dealing with a very dangerous fairy. Possibly a Fae even more powerful than the Lord himself. That would be the only reason why he wasn’t dead. Miranda tugged on the ropes gently, careful not to make any noise. Her eyes darted over to the hunter slumped in the chair not far from her bed. As much as she needed to free herself from the restraints, she knew she had to do it quietly so she wouldn’t risk waking this man. She had no idea what else he was capable of. She’d heard many stories of the hunters. And none of them ended well for witches. She refused to be another lifeless body littering the streets of Faction Twelve. She needed to get out of here. Now.

  Miranda could sense the magic the hunter had infused into the ropes, but his power wouldn’t be enough to keep her confined to the bed. Within minutes, she had freed herself. She sat up and reached over, releasing her ankles from another set of ropes. She glanced at the hunter again, making sure he was still asleep before she slipped out of the bed. Crossing the room, she held the blanket against her nude body. Her first task was to locate some clothing. Something other than the dress she had previously worn. While it was pretty, it would only get in her way as she tried to escape.

  Her motions were slow, quiet, as she walked down the hall. Not even the boards creaked under her bare feet. She kept her body close to the wall, her hand gliding over the cold wood, while she attempted to make her way out of the darkness and toward the lighted room not too far away from her. If this was indeed a Renegade shelter, there had to be some spare clothing around here somewhere.

  Finally reaching her destination, Miranda walked into the room. Another bedroom. Spying the closet on the other side, she bypassed the neatly made bed and tore open the door
to the closet. It was a miracle. The small space was packed with clothing hanging in a neat, organized row. She didn’t waste any time rummaging through the wardrobe of men’s and women’s apparel.

  A smile stretched across her face as she withdrew a pair of black knit pants and a lavender shirt. Perfect. She let the blanket drop from her nude body and put on the outfit. The pants were a little loose for her liking, but they would surely do. Anything was better than the blanket. Now, all she had to do was get out of here.

  She turned around, but then froze. The man was right there, standing in front of the doorway. Her only way to escape. His eyes narrowed on her, and his hand gripped the frame of the door, causing a tremor to rip through her insides. Miranda’s heart pounded wildly inside her chest. Her gaze darted around the room, searching for a way out. But there was no other way. She’d have to go around him.

  “Don’t even think about it.” The man’s voice was hard, serious. And the expression on his face told her she’d be better off listening to him. But she’d never submitted to anyone. And she wasn’t about to start now.

  Maybe, she could distract him. Play dumb. Then she could catch him off guard and make her escape. All she needed was enough time to get out of the room and out the front door. That was it.

  She took a deep breath and redirected her gaze to his. Blue eyes. Eyes she could get lost in. Eyes so wondrous and mysterious.

  Focus, Miranda, she thought, bringing herself back to the room. She had to keep reminding herself this man was the enemy. She couldn’t let herself get distracted by him. Her only goal was to stay alive. And to do that, she had to get out of this cabin and away from him. Snow storm or not. She had to escape.

  “What do you want?” Of course, she knew what the man wanted. His mission was to take her back to the Lord so the Lord could drain her magic until she shriveled up and died. But only, he couldn’t. She’d use her magic on him before she’d let that happen. But she couldn’t think of any other way to distract him.