Chapter 3 : New Perspective

*Sage*

My kidnapper clapped his heels against the horse's sides, spurring him into a gallop.

"Hold on," the man snarled, and I didn't argue.

He was a hulking brute of a figure, tall with broad shoulders like nothing I'd ever seen before. Gripping onto him for dear life, I could feel the way his muscles rippled, even under his thick cloak. My mind drifted to considering what he might look like under all of that fabric, and I cursed myself for letting my mind go there at a time like this.

I wasn't sure what on earth was pursuing us, but from the sound of its feet, it sounded like an elephant. I hadn't heard anything when the man started to get nervous, but now that we were racing through the forest, I could hear the thundering pursuit.

I considered what might be the less terrible way to die: I could risk my life with the unknown creature, or I could hope my captor would let me go.

Watching the ground surge by underneath us, the forest nearly a blur as the black horse practically flew along the path, I realized that trying to take my chance with the beast by bailing was probably not an option. Hitting the ground at this speed and height was going to hurt. I guessed I was taking my chances with the stranger.

Without notice, the man yanked on the reins, pulling the horse off the road into a copse of trees that reminded me of magnolias. The crashing noise grew closer and closer, and the air filled with a scent that made me gag.

"Don't move," the man commanded.

He dismounted, grabbing at a roll buckled behind his shoulders, right between my legs. I nodded, realizing that I truly had no other choice.

The man's huge hand brushed my thigh as he pulled at a thing wrapped tightly in the bundle behind his shoulder. The touch sent electricity bolting across my skin and up my thigh. His dark green eyes snapped to mine for a moment before he finished pulling the item free.

A sword.

It was a massive sword.

I gawked at it before looking back at him. I wanted to study his face further, to memorize the dark curls of hair that hung in his face, to touch the black stubble along his jaw. Now wasn't the time though, and I knew that.

"I fucking hate demons," he muttered, stomping onto the road.

His declaration sent a chill through me, chasing away any of the warmth I had felt from his touch. Was I the demon? Was the monster?

I craned my neck to see out onto the road. I could see him steadying himself, drawing up to his full height, and lifting the sword in front of himself.

The crashing sound had silenced, replaced now by an ominous pounding, a sound almost like a war drum. A steady four-beat gait, as the creature now stalked down the road instead of chasing us.

First, I could only catch a glimpse of matted black fur. The smell that hung heavy in the air was now so thick I could practically taste it, and I had to pull my nightgown up over my mouth and nose to keep from retching.

The beast stood on two legs, taking another step closer to the man.

A bear?

It was just a bear?

I mean, don't get me wrong, I didn't think I would relish encountering a bear alone, but they lived all through the Appalachian mountains. Weren't you just supposed to clang some pots and pans together to scare them off? A sword seemed like overkill.

Something, however, indicated that I might not be in the Appalachians anymore.

My captor swung his sword once in warning, broad shoulders flexing under the weight of it. The bear roared, though there was something new and ominous about the sound. It lunged at him, and I could see its face, finally.

One glowing red eye circled in its socket, unlike anything I'd ever seen before. The other socket was empty, just a black void framed by a nasty gray scar. The creature lurched and swung a massive paw at the man.

The stranger sliced his sword through the air, the blade connecting with the arm of the animal. Black blood sprayed across the road, some splattering dangerously close to the horse.

The horse dropped its head and began grazing, nibbling at the grass as if it didn't even care that its master was battling for his life.

Moving as if it was a dance, the man dodged in and out of strikes. He was shockingly nimble for a man of his size, and I found myself wondering what else his body was capable of. That seemed wildly inappropriate while I was watching him fight for our lives with a demon bear, but I couldn't help it.

A delirious grin revealed pointed canine teeth spread across the man's face as he danced in and out of the fight, slicing and stabbing at the creature. He was a wild thing himself, as much of a part of nature as the trees and the dirt. I couldn't drag my eyes away, stunned by the heat of the battle.

With one last stab, a spray of black erupted from the bear's chest, soaking the road as the man danced back out of the way. The great beast collapsed onto the road, looking not nearly as large as it had earlier now that it was dead.

The black blood that came from the creature slowed to a red trickle, making me wonder if I was seeing things. My captor twitched his hands, and vines sprang up from the ground, wrapping around the beast's legs. The stranger dragged the bear's corpse off the road and over to where I was waiting.

"Dinner is served."

"Ew, hell no," I gasped, though I had to admit that the rotten smell had left, replaced by the fresh smell of clean earth and pine trees.

"Once the black blood is all drained, it's completely safe. And I don't know if you've seen a tavern around here lately, but I sure haven't, so if we're going to eat, we'll be eating this. It's time to make camp for the night anyway."

The man wiped his sword on the grass before leaning it against a tree. Then, he pulled a dagger from his belt and began skinning the bear.

I frowned. I didn't even know if I was hungry.

With impressive speed, the man had the bear skinned and cut into chunks of meat. He had to discard several pieces that had stab wounds, unwilling to eat anything that he wasn't positive was safe. He tried to explain the process to me, but I couldn't even watch him work.

His voice was almost hypnotic though, so I listened even though I didn't want to. His words slithered through his throat like crawling on gravel, low, throaty, and rough. It was so incredibly masculine of a sound, I could listen to him talk for hours. He hadn't said much to me at all until now, and I wondered if he knew the effect his voice would have on me.

"Do you have a name?" I interrupted to ask.

"Do you?" he asked back.

My grandmother's warnings rang in my memory, surging up from the depths somewhere.

'Never give a fae your name. They'll use it against you. You should only tell them what they can call you.'

I couldn't think of why the memory came to me now. I was having some sort of nightmare, or I had hit my head in the fall, or had just experienced a lapse in memory. There was no way I had entered another realm, right?

If I thought long and hard about it though, I knew that didn't make sense, and the things I had seen in the last few hours couldn't possibly be from the same world I lived in. So, it was wise to be cautious. Unfortunately, I wasn't exactly a quick thinker right now, and so I couldn't think up a convincing lie fast enough.

"No," I snapped.

"That seems doubtful. I don't think many parents choose not to give their kids a name," he dismissed.

"Okay, then what's yours?" I demanded.

He looked me fully in my face, and I got the first true glance at what he looked like. I had realized he was handsome when he seized me, but seeing him now, he was heartbreaking.

A square jaw covered with black stubble, high, angled cheekbones, and deep green eyes. His hair was long, long enough that a few dark curls covered his forehead. There was a slash through one of his eyebrows, and his skin was kissed golden by the sun. My breath caught in my throat at the sight of him.

"Fynn," he answered finally.

"You can call me Sage," I offered in return, hoping I hadn't just gotten tricked into some fae deal I didn't understand.

He shook his head, the hood of the cloak finally falling away.

Ears that came to a soft point poked out from under his hair, and I had to hold my breath to keep from gasping. So, he was definitely fae. The two features my grandmother had always said to look out for were elongated canines and pointed ears, and the man had just revealed the second of those traits. I saw his teeth earlier, and now I was forced to admit to myself that I had either lost my mind or the world as I knew it was a very different place.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked, turning back to where he was building a fire for the night.

"Like what?" I asked as I tried to wipe my expression off my face. I wasn't sure why this was so shocking to me. I'd literally seen him use magic to summon roots and vines. I'd been trying to reason with myself about those things too, but I was also distracted by how devastatingly handsome this man was.

"Like that," he repeated, gesturing at me with the dagger.

"I'm not," I snapped. The response was nonsense, but so was everything else I'd seen today.

He didn't answer. He just placed a large flat rock over the fire and placed a slab of bear meat on top of it. As the bear cooked, he ignored me, taking the saddle and bridle off the horse and tying it with a soft leather cord to one of the trees.

"Good boy, Alastor," Fynn complimented, patting the animal on the neck as it grazed.

It was nearly too dark to see the horse at all. Fynn crouched in front of the fire, poking at the bear meat. Apparently, he was satisfied with whatever he found, because he slid it off the rock and onto a different rock. Using the dagger, he sliced into it, handing me a chunk.

"Eat," he ordered.

I frowned. "I'm not hungry."

"Yes, you are," he argued.

I rolled my eyes and sniffed at it. It didn't smell rotten, and there was a rumble in my stomach. I took a small bite. The meat had a gamey flavor, but it was edible, so I nibbled at it a little more.

When he was satisfied with his meal, he rolled out the bedroll he kept his sword tucked into. I watched as he spread it out, adjusting it until he was totally satisfied. He peeled back the top blanket. Fynn stood and pointed at it.

"Get in," he ordered.

There was no room in his tone for arguing. I did as I was told. He kicked out the fire and returned to the bedroll. When Fynn started to climb in though, I protested.

"Too bad. Can't risk you getting out of my sight." Then, he flicked his wrists and had me secured with vines.

Was I really supposed to sleep in the same bed as this stranger with my hands bound?