Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Over and over she heard settlers muttering her name with repugnance once they caught sight of her. It wasn’t the gaping, muddy dress, or the fact her long golden hair was free of a covering.
In their eyes, for some unknown reason, she’d committed a great crime.
It didn’t matter what they thought, or the slander they might toss at her back as she fought her way forward. The only thing that mattered was finding her mother.
With a great shove, she budged the last line of townsfolk apart and found... nothing.
Her cottage stood as it always did, the cheerfully painted wooden door shut.
Creeping closer, on the verge of being ill, Morgaine reached for the latch and froze.
A terrifying voice boomed behind it. “Her scent is abundant in this shack, old woman. Slick and fear, I can taste them in the air! There will be no more patience for your lies. Tell me where she is, or you will be tied up in the center of town and burned to death for the trouble you’ve caused.”
Ear to the door, breath caught in her lungs, Morgaine heard the dulcet voice of her mother’s steady, submissive reply. “I assure you again, none reside here but I, sir. I am a tailor and live a modest life. Customers come to me, to this room, to be fitted for their clothing. It must be one of them you smell.”
A dangerous growl shook the walls. “Your neighbors tell a different tale, madam. You have a daughter. Her name is Morgaine... and you have allowed her to age out of our sight to the point that she is now full-grown. The child is not your property. She belongs to the Alphas, and you shall give her up.”
“My only child died years ago. Whoever told you differently is mistaken. Take any of my goods you desire. See, prized cloth, woven and dyed to a deep red? It’s yours. How about embroidered tatted lace for your wife? Look here, this is my finest work. Beyond these wares, I have nothing else to offer you, great Alpha.”
Each hair on the back of Morgaine’s neck stood at attention, her heart in her throat upon hearing the Alpha cruelly bark, “Have her bound in the square. If she will not answer with honesty, she will be made an example of and left there to rot.”
“No!” Hand to the latch, Morgaine thrust the door inward, desperate to save her mother. “Don’t hurt her! I am here.”
In the cottage’s dim light, two huge, unwanted males dominated the small chaotic space. Amongst tossed furniture and shattered possessions they stood: pristine armor, weapons hanging at their waists and slung across their backs.
Both poured every ounce of their attention over her, each male unnaturally still and unblinking.
The door shut with a bang at her back.
Eyes welling, Morgaine stumbled forward and repeated. “I’m here.”
The nearest soldier took a step toward her. In response, she drew in a breath, ready to beg for her mother’s life. One deep inhalation, and Morgaine became stone.
It was as if she could taste the intruders in the back of her throat. Embers… it was like breathing in scorching fire that burned from the inside out.
She couldn’t speak to beg for amnesty. She couldn’t fall to her knees.
She couldn’t breathe.
Blinking madly, a wheeze caught in her chest.
Wide-eyed, she cut a panicked glance to her mother. An Alpha’s hand was wrapped around the woman’s throat, her taut body jammed against the wall. Gone was the calm-voiced merchant. Shaking from terror, she reached for her child.
Desperate to cling to her mother, unable to move, Morgaine felt warm tears slip from her eyes. She tried, she tried with everything in her being to reach back.
Instead, the floor met her knees when a viscous cramp tore up her calves and left her sprawling. The genuflection was not an act of supplication. Not when her hands had clawed into the floor as if it might save her.
Lack of air left her giddy, weak, and on the verge of unconsciousness.
Through the tangle of her hair, she saw the closest soldier’s boots approach.
Amusement colored his gibe. “Your nonexistent daughter has returned.”
Fingers splayed, Morgaine stared at the rushes under her palms, babbling out anything she thought might appease the men who tormented her mother. “I was in the woods... gathering berries.”
An unwelcome finger hooked her chin, forcing her to raise her face for inspection. The man touching her, the intruder who had wrecked her home, was larger than any male in her village. Huge. Mean. A weather-beaten face frowned down at her. “And where are these berries?”
“I couldn’t...” she could not have gathered berries earlier, just as in that moment she could not form proper words. Silent tears dripped down dirty cheeks. “I love my mother.”
“Hush, girl.” The stranger held her eyes, cupped her face in his rough palms, and offered a soft smile.