Wild Lands (Savage Lands Book 2) Read online

  “She probably won’t live. I want you to be prepared. Her system will most likely shut down with shock.”

  “Just do it!”

  There was a beat…

  Flames burst inside me, my spine jackknifing. But it was his deep roar that shook the room, tearing through me and filling me with excruciating agony.

  It was too much.

  I slipped back into endless blackness.

  The murmur of voices, though soothing, tugged me from the blackness. My lashes fluttered, trying to open. Bile clung to the walls of my esophagus, and though I couldn’t pinpoint the pain, nausea rolled through me as though I was on a stormy ocean.

  Weakly, my lids cracked open to an old wood ceiling made of tree branches. The room was dark and dim, the only light coming from a fire crackling across the room, but I still flinched at the brightness. Peering at my outstretched body, a soft blanket lay over me, a pillow under my head, and I looked to be lying on a wooden dining table.

  “I’ve known you a long time. Fought at your side.” The smooth, seductive voice drifted sensually to me, coming from near the large fireplace. “Janos and I were the ones to find you on the field…”

  A chair creaked. My head dropped to look over. In two homemade-looking wood chairs in front of the fire, Warwick and a man I didn’t know sat drinking.

  Warwick’s shirt was still caked with dried blood, a bandage on his arm, his pants stained with grease, dirt, and more blood.

  The other guy wore dark green, loose cotton pants and a lighter green shirt, his feet bare.

  From what I could see of the unknown guy’s profile, he was seriously gorgeous: chiseled jaw, full lips, stubble, and wavy, dark blond hair tumbling to his shoulders. Pretty compared to Warwick. Shorter and less broad. But almost all men were slight compared to the Wolf. Warwick had a way of making everyone else appear small. Insignificant. Though sitting, I could tell this man still was tall and fit, looking to be in his late twenties to humans.

  “I’m putting a lot on the line having you here. If Killian or any of his men found you... I’m still tied to him. A debt I have to work through.” The guy frowned.

  Warwick rubbed his face, staring back at the fire.

  “You really have issues trusting people. Even me… after all we’ve been through.” The pretty man took a drink of whatever was in his wooden cup. “At least tell me what she is to you.”

  “She’s nothing.” Warwick’s voice came out low.

  “Yeah, that’s why you brought her here, knowing the risk, and threatened my life multiple times if she didn’t live.” The guy snorted, refilling his glass from a bottle on a side table. “You are a lot of things… The one thing you are not, my friend, is a good liar. Nor do you take risks for people who are nothing to you.”

  Warwick’s eyebrows furrowed.

  “You don’t care enough to lie. You are a tsunami—brutal, overwhelming, devastating, harsh, but never false.”

  Warwick slunk back farther in his chair, scouring his face. He dropped his head back for a moment, taking a breath. “I don’t know what she is…”

  “In general or to you?” His friend’s question stirred him in his seat.

  “Fuck, I don’t miss this.” Warwick motioned to him. “This insightful shit.”

  “Comes with my nature.” The guy chuckled. “It’s why I am so good at healing people.”

  “If there’s a wound, you want to fix it.”

  The guy snorted. “Some wounds are not on the outside.”

  Warwick grunted in annoyance, making his friend shake his head.

  “She has no aura. I can sense nothing there.” The guy tapped his hand on his knee. “Like you.”

  “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what? I’m simply stating facts. Seems odd neither of you have auras…”

  “What are you getting at, Ash?” Warwick leaned forward on his knees. “The one thing you are not, my friend, is subtle.”

  “You’re going to tell me when you held her down earlier… you weren’t taking on her pain?” The man, Ash, tilted his head. “It will be very awkward to watch you lie again, so why don’t you get straight to the truth?”

  Warwick got up, his large boots hitting the creaky floor, his head almost touching the ceiling. Exhaustion started to tug at me, but my curiosity forced my lids to stay up.

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know what?”

  Warwick rumbled, resembling a wild beast.

  “What the fuck this is!” His arm waved off in my direction. “The moment she walked into Halálház… I’ve felt… It’s like…” He huffed, giving up.

  “Jesus, you are even worse at admitting any emotion.”

  “That’s not who I am.”

  “No, you’re right. But I think you need to tell me about this.”

  Warwick pinched his nose.

  “We are connected.” He breathed heavily. “Like I can fucking be in the same room as her and be across town at the same time.”

  “What?” Ash bolted up. “Like a dream? There’s no way you could dreamscape or dream walk. You’re not fairy. And neither is she.”

  “No, it’s nothing like that. It’s not a dream. We aren’t sleeping… it’s real. I can touch her, smell her, see everything happening around her, and she can with me. It’s as if we’re both really there. Wide awake. But no one else can see the other.”

  “That’s not possible.”

  Warwick let out a strained laugh.

  “Well, tell the universe that.”

  “So, you guys can visit each other and also take each other’s pain away?”

  “Not totally away, but some of it. Like a painkiller. It happened at Halálház, but the first time I really acknowledged it, I was digging a bullet out of the back of her leg. My calf burned as if I were cutting into mine, while she seemed to ease. I think she did it to me when I was shot helping her escape from Killian’s.”

  “How many times have you both been shot?”

  “Counting today?” He snorted sardonically. “A lot.”

  There was a pause.

  “I had been hurt, really bad. I should have died. Instead, I healed. Fast. Quicker than I should have. Even for me.”

  “Just like she shouldn’t be alive right now. Healing,” Ash said numbly. “Szent szar. I knew something was happening. I could feel it, but I didn’t expect this.”

  “Neither did I.”

  After a moment of quiet, my lids shut on their own, oblivion clawing and tugging on me, dragging me down. I wanted to listen, fighting tooth and nail to stay conscious.

  “This is unbelievable. I mean, I’ve heard of some crazy shit. Intense bonds between mates, dream-sharing, soul touching…”

  “We’re not fucking bonded. She’s not my mate, and I’m certainly not hers. I’m not anybody’s.”

  “Then what the fuck do you call this?”

  “Something that needs to end.” Warwick’s words reached deep inside, making me flinch. “I told you because I hoped you might be able to help me.”

  “Help you?”

  “Help me break it. You are a powerful tree fairy. Who better than you?”

  “I don’t think I can.”

  “Ash...”

  “Look at her, Warwick. You’d be a lucky fuckin’ bastard to be linked to her.”

  “No.” His words started to break apart, drifting away from me. “I’m not capable of that. She deserves somebody better. Someone who wants her.”

  Ouch.

  I began to slip away, but I swore I heard Ash laugh.

  “The only person you’re lying to is yourself.”

  “I don’t know if you should eat that…”

  Chirp.

  “I know I’m not your mother, but you can’t just put anything into your mouth.”

  Chirp!

  “Hey! Leave me out of it. Plus, that was also a total misunderstanding.”

  Murmurings dragged me out the delicious depths of nonbeing, where nothing coul
d touch me. An irritation tickled my nose, made my head wiggle.

  Chirp.

  “No, she doesn’t seem to like it any better.”

  Chirp.

  “I don’t know. People are weird.”

  The familiar voices dropped me roughly back into my body. Awareness and understanding seeped slowly back into my mind, along with shooting pain and memories.

  Attack.

  Escape.

  Shot.

  Agony.

  After that was all a blurry mess of clips, nothing fitting together.

  A groan started in my raw throat, but the soreness forced me to swallow it back; my esophagus felt like it had been shredded with razor blades.

  As if I were swimming through mud, I struggled to pry my lids apart. Another moan slammed my lashes together again, my head slicing in half from the light pooling into the room.

  “Master Fishy! You are awake.” Opie’s voice drew my eyes open again.

  He went onto his toes, peering right in my eyeball. “Oh, you look like crap.”

  I felt like it too.

  Chiirrp.

  Bitzy was in the backpack on the pillow next to my head, her ears lowered down, an odd smile on her face.

  Adorable, but disturbing.

  Speaking of disturbing…

  Today, Opie was in a bodysuit made of fishnet stockings, pleasure beads for a belt, and a leopard-print pasty covering his lower half, while Bitzy wore a matching leopard choker.

  “You okay, Fishy?”

  Not having enough energy to even speak, I tried to sit up a little more, the room spinning. I swallowed back the vomit in my throat, breathing through my nose. My gaze traveled down my body, which was when I realized I was naked except for my knickers and a bandage covering most of my torso, which wrapped me from my breasts to my hips. The tan bandages were spotted dark red in places.

  A blanket covered me, and a pillow rested under my head, but I lay on a hard wooden table, where I was sure Warwick’s friend had operated on me. Herbs, potions, bowls of liquid, medical instruments, bloody rags, and gauze were scattered everywhere near me. Slowly looking around, I took in the shadowy room. The only light was from the two windows above letting in a dull morning glow.

  The entire home was made from wood. The ceilings were low and the windows small, like we were partially underground, but the room had a cozy, reclusive feel. The space might have been considered roomy, but it had beam posts and large furniture pieces. Every wall had a different style bookcase, shelf, and table loaded with stacks of books, plants, jars, bowls, and various clutter, which cramped the space.

  A soft snore drew my head toward the stone fireplace. The fire was gone, but Warwick filled one of the chairs, slunk in deep, his legs outstretched and head tipped back, sound asleep. It took a moment to take him in. Even in sleep, I could feel his guard was up. Ready to respond if something happened.

  Past him, on the far side of the fireplace, I saw a curtained-off doorway where the owner of the house might be. My mind flickered over a memory. I couldn’t quite remember much except his voice. Smooth. Sexual.

  I turned, spotting another doorway near me, opening to a small messy kitchen. The entire place was probably the size of my bedroom and bathroom back at HDF.

  “This place is so… lived in.” Opie pulled my attention his way, his body wiggling like his skin itched. “I mean, I don’t want to clean it or anything.” His face looked as if he wanted to do just that. “It’s so untidy and dirty. Not that I have anything against it. To each his own, right? But…” He blew out, running his hands through his brown beard. “What do I care if he likes to live in filth?” He rolled his eyes. “Tree fairies.” He shook his head like that explained it all.

  A stronger memory of the man who lived here flickered in my head, the one who saved me, with his crystal green eyes, honey-colored hair, and a striking face.

  “You must really enjoy almost dying, Fishy.” Opie moved down the table, organizing the items in categories, not able to fight his nature. “I could smell the blood miles away.”

  I stared at my friends, not even bothering to ask how they found me. Seemed they could follow my “smell,” no matter where I was. But by their outfits, they had come from Kitty’s.

  Bitzy made a happy chirp, her fingers touching my face, still smiling at me, freaking me the fuck out.

  “What the hell is wrong with her?” I grunted, every word and movement anguish. Every second that passed, more pain gnawed on my nerves.

  “Wrong?” Opie tilted his head over to us.

  “She’s smiling at me… and not flipping me off.” I blinked as she sighed happily, her blissful grin not leaving her face, her long fingers curling in the air as if she could touch it. “Is… is she high?”

  “Oh. Right. She might have eaten something from one of these jars.” Opie went back to straightening items on the table.

  I snorted as Bitzy tried to snatch at nothing.

  “Great, you’re awake.”

  At the sound of a sultry voice, I turned and propped up on my elbow, seeing a stunning man saunter out from the back room. His unbrushed, wavy, shoulder-length, blond hair framed his bright green eyes and prominent cheekbones.

  Damn. He was sooooo pretty.

  Warwick bolted up, pulling a gun from his belt, pointing it at the source.

  “Fuck, Warwick. Don’t shoot me before I’ve had my tea.” The man yawned, holding up an arm. “Damn, you are wound tightly.”

  Warwick peered at his friend, then at me, muttering something before he stomped through the doorway his friend had just come from.

  “Sadly, can’t even blame it on him not being a morning person.” The guy winked at me, his sexual energy slamming into me.

  “Tree fairies,” I muttered to myself as if that did explain it all. My experience with them at Killian’s suggested it was their nature. Still, it was hard to brace yourself against the intensity they released into the air, especially now when he was only dressed in a pair of light brown cotton pants. He rubbed at his bare, pristine ripped chest, a sexy smile on his lips.

  “Glad to see you are awake. Though a little surprised.”

  “Surprised?” My voice croaked.

  He stopped in front of me. “After what you went through? Even a fae wouldn’t wake up for weeks.” His brows furrowed, looking over me critically. “To be honest, I didn’t think you were going to make it through the night.”

  “I’m hard to kill, it seems.”

  “So it seems.” The side of his mouth crooked up, his bright green eyes landing on me. “I’m Ash.”

  “Brexley.”

  “Oh, I know.” A suggestive grin pulled on his face before his attention went to the end of the table, his eyebrows popping up. Following his gaze, I saw Opie shoving his feet into puffy cotton balls, peering down at them like they were the latest fashion.

  “Did I just inherit a cross-dressing housecleaner?”

  Opie’s head swirled to Ash, his mouth opened then closed, his chest puffing up, his cheeks turning a shade of purple.

  Uh-oh.

  “How dare you, sir.” Opie huffed indignantly, his arms folding slightly above the pleasure beads. “I am no housecleaner!”

  I tried to hide my smile. I loved that that was the part he was insulted by.

  “You’re a brownie.” Ash motioned to him. “Though brownies don’t normally show themselves or wear outfits as though they work in a whore house.”

  “First, I do not work there. And second, do I have the look of a normal brownie to you, sir?” Opie’s newly acquired cotton ball slippers stomped down with a puff.

  Even through my nausea, I had to hold back my giggle. Opie glared up at me, and I forced my face to be serious.

  “How dare you call him normal,” I chided Ash. “Shame on you.” I could see Ash’s mouth twitching with humor, but he nodded.

  “Sorry, my friend. You clearly are something… else.”

  “Something magnificent.” I nodded at Opi
e. “Right?”

  Opie wiggled with coyness until a full smile pulled on his lips. “Do you like it? Mistress Kitty left out a box of stuff I could use.” He motioned down to himself.

  “I love it.”

  “Madam Kitty?” Ash’s head jerked back to Opie, his eyes narrowing. “You were at her place?”

  “They followed her there…” Warwick’s husky voice jolted against my spine with energy. My heart thumped as I twisted to see him standing there, his chin jerking in my direction. Fresh from a shower, his hair dripped, water trailing down his marred and inked skin. Only a towel covered his lower half. Every inch of my body heated, my throat tightening as I tried to swallow. “I’ve been hiding out there. Well, I was until…” Warwick’s sharp glance pierced me.

  “You’ve stayed in touch?” Ash’s tone sounded strained, but I couldn’t pick out any particular sentiment.

  “I’m not getting in the middle.” Warwick ran a hand through his hair, irritation radiating off him. “Anything here I can wear?”

  “There should be something in the far closet. Though nothing is gonna really fit you. You sure you’re not half ogre?”

  Warwick huffed and went back into the room, his gruffness on high today.

  “He has the personality of one.” Ash winked at me, making me laugh.

  “Heard that, asshole,” Warwick yelled.

  “I know!” Ash shouted back. His easy smile made me smile. “Can I?” He motioned to the bandages. I nodded, too tired and in pain to care about modesty around a stranger. That ship had sailed back in Halálház.

  He helped me sit up, slowly unwrapping the dressing, leaving the ones over my breasts in place. He inspected the wounds he had stitched up. One close to my right lung and the other around my kidneys.

  “They’re actually healing remarkably well.” He looked up at me. I could see the question in his eyes as he grabbed a bottle full of clear liquid and started dabbing around the lacerations. What are you? You aren’t human.

  “You guys have known each other for a long time?” I asked, needing to distract myself from his curiosity and the agony from the wounds. Their back-and-forth banter reminded me of old friends or brothers.

  “Me and Warwick?” Ash continued to work. “Fucking forever. Knew him when he was actually somewhat of a nice guy. One you didn’t want to punch all the time.”