I swung my bow at his head. He dodged it.
The other two hissed as they came
up behind me, and I gripped the bow harder.
Surrounded.
I turned in a slow circle, bow ready to strike.
One of them sniffed at me, those slitted nostrils flaring. “Scrawny human
thing,” he spat to the others, whose smiles grew sharper. “Do you know what
you’ve cost us?”
I wouldn’t go down without a fight, without taking some of them with me.
“Go to Hell,” I said, but it came out in a gasp.
They laughed, stepping nearer. I swung the bow at the closest. He dodged it,
chuckling. “We’ll have our sport—though you might not find it as amusing.”
I gritted my teeth as I swung again. I would not be hunted down like a deer
among wolves. I would find a way out of this; I would—
A black-clawed hand closed around the shaft of my bow, and a resounding
snap echoed through the too-silent woods.
The air left my chest in a whoosh, and I only had time to half turn before one
of them grabbed me by the throat and hurled me to the ground. He pounded my
arm so hard against the earth that my bones groaned and my fingers splayed,
dropping the remnants of my bow.
“When we’re done ripping off your skin, you’ll wish you hadn’t crossed into
Prythian,” he breathed into my face, the reek of carrion shoving down my throat.
I gagged. “We’ll cut you up so fine there won’t be much for the crows to pick
at.”
A white-hot flame went through me. Rage or terror or wild instinct, I don’t
know. I didn’t think. I grabbed the knife in my boot and slammed it into his
leathery neck.
Blood rained down onto my face, into my mouth as I bellowed my fury, my
terror.
The naga slumped back. I scrambled up before the remaining two could pin
me, but something rock hard hit my face. I tasted blood and soil and grass as I
hit the earth. Stars danced in my vision, and I stumbled to my feet again out of
instinct, grabbing for Lucien’s hunting knife.
Not like this, not like this, not like this.
One of them lunged for me, and I dodged aside. His talons caught in my cloak
and yanked, ripping it into ribbons just as his companion threw me to the
ground, my arms tearing beneath those claws.
“You’ll bleed,” one of them panted, laughing under his breath at the knife I
lifted. “We’ll bleed you nice and slow.” He wiggled his talons—perfect for deep,
brutal cutting. He opened his mouth again, and a bone-shattering roar sounded
through the clearing.
Only it hadn’t come from the creature’s throat.
The noise hadn’t finished echoing before the naga went flying off me,
crashing into a tree so hard that the wood cracked. I made out the gleaming gold
of his mask and hair and the long, deadly claws before Tamlin tore into the
creature.
The naga holding me shrieked and released his grip, leaping to his feet as
Tamlin’s claws shredded through his companion’s neck. Flesh and blood ripped
away.
I kept low to the ground, knife at the ready, waiting.
Tamlin let out another roar that made the marrow of my bones go cold and
revealed those lengthened canines.
The remaining creature darted for the woods.
He got only a few steps away before Tamlin tackled him, pinning him to the
earth. And disemboweled the naga in one deep, long swipe.
I remained where I lay, my face half buried in leaves and twigs and moss. I
didn’t try to raise myself. I was shaking so badly that I thought I would fall apart
at the seams. It was all I could do to keep holding the knife.
Tamlin got to his feet, wrenching his claws out of the creature’s abdomen.
Blood and gore dripped from them, staining the deep green moss.
High Lord. High Lord. High Lord.
Feral rage still smoldered in his gaze, and I flinched as he knelt beside me. He
reached for me again, but I jerked back, away from the bloody claws that were
still out. I raised myself into a sitting position before the shaking resumed. I
knew I couldn’t get to my feet.
“Feyre,” he said. The wrath faded from his eyes, and the claws slipped back
under his skin, but the roar still sounded in my ears. There had been nothing in
that sound but primal fury.
“How?” It was all I could manage to say, but he understood me.
“I was tracking a pack of them—these four escaped, and must have followed
your scent through the woods. I heard you scream.”
So he didn’t know about the Suriel. And he—he’d come to help me.
He reached a hand toward me, and I shuddered as he ran cool, wet fingers
down my stinging, aching cheek. Blood—that was blood on them. And from the
stickiness on my face, I knew there was already enough blood splattered on me
