The Mate That Wasn't Mine novel Chapter 71

Chapter 71

Chapter 71

TESSA POV

My thought process is too limited to think in anything other than black and white.

Man bleeding out in my lap.

Ran.

Lunatic swirling and slashing with long knives like he’s trying to create a portal straight to hell.

Run even faster.

It doesn’t matter how bad my head is pounding, or how fragile my arm feels. The man who kindly gave me his leather jacket. Did he say his name was Luca? Well his shaggy black locks and incredibly heavy skull flopped into my map like a sack of potatoes.

Spluttering and choking as his throat empties out across my orange dress. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much blood before. Somehow, I know to scream is pointless. I don’t recognise where I am, but it’s the middle of nowhere.

I am weirdly disconnected from my body. Until the warmth of Luca’s blood seeps through the dress into my legs. It’s disgustingly warm, spreading and slippy as I fight to heave him away.

All the tall, squat, thin, chunky, altogether strange–looking men around me are falling. I stare, dumbstruck. The arrows just flew out of nowhere! Maybe the attacker had helpers, firing arrows from the trees? But then I know about arrows. I think so, anyway.

No. No, I do know about archery. How a bow feels in my hands, to stand there, pull and release. I can fire them that fast.

So, just a random man deciding to take

pack Beta? He certainly kills like one.

on twenty men…for the bloodlust? My stomach sinks, is he the man they first saved me from? They said he was a

Every so often his scowling, furious gaze lands on me. He has the eyes of a dragon, or tiger. Golden, flashing with manic energy from his wolf.

Instinct takes over. I’m safer on my own.

Luca burbles but I cannot feel much sympathy for a man I knew for only a minute. Without ceremony I shove, slumping onto the grass like a broken doll, a bloodied hand reaching for mine.

Facts bubble up out of nowhere. Like air escaping a sealed jar. I know I have a wolf but I cannot feel it. This place is not home, but I don’t know how I know that fact either.

And now, the only man telling me anything has just been murdered. Risking a broken ankle but I bolt up the grassy hill into a clearing, darknes swallowing me.

The stench of decay hits, even with a weak, silenced wolf. Trying not to retch, I sprint onwards. Forced to slow when the trees thicken I work my way carefully, stretching out my hands to narrow the chance of knocking myself out.

Because again, somehow, I know I’m clumsy and need to take extra care here. Goddess this is infuriating! My only hope is that my weakened wolf will leave less of a scent for that attacker to follow should he choose to want me dead too.

When my hands touch a wall of solid rock I could weep with relief. Caves. A sanctuary to hide in. Silently I feel my way around, on my knees, checking the depth, making sure I won’t be found should he come around with a torch light.

If it wasn’t so dark I’d attempt to climb a tree. Something inside me tells me that is a smarter choice than pinning myself inside an inescapable room of rock, but I don’t trust my still–aching arms strength just yet.

Only when I’m tucked away, several metres inside one of the caves, ignoring the damp moss upon my bare feet do I allow myself to breathe. Long, steady breaths that achieve absolutely zero calm.

Chapter 71

My head still feels blank. I hate it. But my wolf is slowly trudging up through the fog. I think they’ve been busy healing me, recovering from Comething else? Reaching up 1 feel my shoulder and wince at the fresh, raw scar that lingers upon my skin.

I’ve been shot? Stabbed?

Or worse, is it a bite mark? Have I been claimed by one of those men?

My hand scrambles to check the other side, relieved to find another puncture wound. It was an

arrow.

Touching my hair, its long and wild. Covered in grass. Then I feel the long orange, crinkled material of my dress, ignoring the huge, damp patch of blood

in the centre.

The more I touch the more I feel real again. When the skirt swishes I get a mental image of walking along, gathering pieces of metal. To sell? To use?

I’m not sure. But it’s a picture in my mind of my life. One I think I trust.

When I feel my feet there is a pain around the ankles. I keep exploring the rougher, sore line. The only conclusion for such marks is that i’ve been tied up recently.

I want to scream. How can I not remember anything?

Scrambling for anything concrete, I remember a taste. Something I’ve absolutely never tasted before, but I know my mouth felt chalky, unusual when I woke up. Add in the fact I’ve been tied up. And injured.

Every memory is a dredge out of the murky gloop of my brain. But I start to think about the man I woke up beside. How kindly he spoke. He called me Feisty and it made something in me bloom.

But his eyes were so lifeless and dark. His face might have offered a thousand kind expressions but those eyes left me edgy. The cogs in my mind are putting pieces together, and it looks like my so–called rescuer was also my captor.

My cheeks burn with annoyance. I’ll never know now.

“Tessa? Tessa are you okay?” sounds directly outside my cave. Shit. No! Clamping a hand over my mouth to keep my breathing quiet. Please go. Please just leave. Let me live.

“Okay. Well I’m going to be sitting, on a log a few metres away. I’m not going to hurt you. I know what you just saw suggests otherwise.”

He has a rich, warm voice. I bet he’s covered in blood. Probably still holding those lethal blades.

“I don’t think I could get into a cave if I tried, my ribs got slashed pretty badly. So I’ll be patching myself up out here if you hear any noises.”

My wolf is pushing me to talk. Only faintly, but it’s there. Well I don’t want to.

There’s safety in being silent. It feels familiar, holding back words, even as they build pressure in my stomach, aching to come out. I’ve got so many questions for the man who probably just wants to eliminate his final witness.

Minutes tick over. From my sunken little hole, I see nothing but the black upon black outline of tree trunks.

“It’s a bit quiet. For me anyway. So, can I tell you something?”

He waits again. Hissing occasionally, maybe he’s telling the truth about being injured. I reach around in the dark, feeling for a rock. Maybe I can dash his brains out whilst he’s struggling. Several shards of slate scatter, a telltale noise breaking the hush.

“Ah, hang on. Here,” he whispers before I hear the scraping sound of a fire lighting. I’m shaking in fear, only to realise he has stripped off a shirt, probably from one of his victims and wrapped it around a thick chunk of tree branch.

Stabbing the branch into the grass, my cave is both illuminated, and a little warmer. But he returns to his former location, he doesn’t peer in at me.

“Do you know who I am?”

13:13 Sun, 15 Jun GGO