King of the Wilds - Tasha Black Page 0,10
a nearby tree.
“Now he’s got it,” Bron said with a smile. “Let’s go.”
Miranda couldn’t reply or even move. She was frozen in amazement. This guy was like something out of Disney movie.
“This is my kingdom,” Bron said simply, as if that explained everything.
He lifted his hands, palms up, to indicate the forest around them.
“Such as it is in this realm,” he added with a touch of sadness.
“We haven’t been kind to the environment,” Miranda said quietly.
“There is still time to learn,” Bron said as they walked on.
That smarted.
She knew acutely that he wasn’t just talking about humans in general. Her own boss was at the forefront of tearing down trees and replacing them with concrete. It was as if he had a vendetta against nature.
She had sworn not to try to change the minds of this unlikely crew of monster hunters.
But they had made no such promises about changing hers.
“One of the realities of modern life is that individuals have fewer rights than corporations,” she said.
It was an oft-repeated statement, but a true one, and hardly her fault.
“I have no idea what that means,” Bron said.
“It means that big corporations, maybe you’d call them merchants, have more rights than people,” she told him. “We can’t always stop them from doing what they want.”
“We are each responsible for our own actions,” he said coldly. “And if any entity threatens our home and the ones we love, we should burn it to the ground.”
He meant it. She could see the fierce scowl under his flame colored beard.
“Your realm sounds like an intense place,” she said.
“All realms are worthy of intense protection,” he said. “Your kind will learn, or they will pay with their very existence.”
She buttoned her lip and walked on.
She shouldn’t keep finding herself accidentally invested in this relationship. It was bound to be a short one.
And it was embarrassing that her foolish heart couldn’t tell the difference between physical appreciation for hot, wild-looking man and caring about his opinion of her.
Bron walked on beside her, seemingly unaffected by any worries of his own.
A moment later, a feeling of wrongness overcame her. She couldn’t explain it, but it chilled her to her bones.
“Bron,” she murmured.
“I know,” he replied.
The cicadas had gone quiet. The only sound in the night air now was the sound of their footsteps.
No.
There were more footsteps than that. Something was thrashing toward them from just off the path.
Terror made her heart threaten to stop beating.
“Brothers,” Bron roared.
The sound echoed off the trees and she heard footsteps coming from all around now.
They were coming. The others would help her. She didn’t know why the thought comforted her - she barely knew them.
She unfroze and tried to spot the thing coming for her in the trees. It was closer now. She could see the foliage waving wildly.
This part of the path followed a steep hillside. It would be hard to run.
“Stay behind me,” Bron growled.
She obeyed reluctantly.
If this thing was her destiny, she wanted to face it.
Dorian and Sara joined them first, from behind.
She spun to see Dorian drawing his forearms together and bowing his head as Sara held out a huge shard of glass.
Inky darkness seemed to issue from Dorian’s chest, tendrils of it reaching into the forest as if searching for the fachan.
Soft light came from the opposite direction, finally showing her the outline of the creature as she peeked around Bron’s big body.
It was larger than she remembered, larger than life. And it lumbered toward her with a singular focus.
Tristan sprinted toward her from behind the thing. He ran around it, allowing it a wide berth.
As he drew closer, she felt her fear retreat and warmth fill her chest once again, like morning sunshine.
He’s the King of Light…
Tabitha followed close behind him as if the two were one.
The beast howled, as if sensing that it was outnumbered.
But its appetite for Miranda seemed only to grow, and it lumbered closer still.
She could smell its rotten stench now. It was almost close enough to touch, its movements gone frantic in its hunger.
“Easy, fachan,” Bron intoned. “We don’t want to fight you.”
Miranda watched as its movements gentled.
But it was still moving toward her.
Sara began to sing, holding out the mirror shard in front of her as she did.
The mirror brought you to this place,
Broken mountain lacking grace,
Thinning forest, slender trees,
Poison in the noxious breeze,
The thing swung around toward Sara menacingly, as if it knew shew was trying to trick it.
She slipped a little on the muddy ground, but managed to