Taken (Fae's Captive #5) - Lily Archer Page 0,25

and then she said I would get nowhere being ironic.”

“Hold on!” I fasten the rope around Beth’s waist as the gale intensifies, the tiny boat no match for the storm that came from nowhere and everywhere all at once. I lash her to me, the fear of losing her beneath the waves like a sword through my gut.

“I thought she said moronic, but—” The next crash of thunder mutes her words as I peer toward shore. I can’t see it, only the white-topped waves that relentlessly swell from the sea and threaten ruin.

Letting out a length of rope, I take the oars again and fight the angry spray, forcing the boat up and over the waves, the weak vessel crashing down the other side, bobbing one hair away from destruction.

A streak of lightning cracks the black sky open, the flood of rain illuminated in a bright arc overhead as another wave builds behind us. Monstrous and dark, it begins to crest, the top falling toward us with a roar.

I dive for Beth, pulling her into my arms as the wave hits and swamps the boat. It flips, pummeled by the water, and dumps its occupants into the angry water.

We sink, the boat floating above us like a taunt. I kick out for Beth and yank on the tether between us. She claws at the water, her hair plastered to her head, eyes wide, panic in every one of her movements. Her terror quakes down the tenuous bond as I grab her and kick hard to the surface. Another bolt of lightning shows an oar just above us, the boat already too far away to be of any help.

As we surface, Beth sputters and tries to climb on top of me, her nails digging into my back, waking the feral at the worst possible time.

“Calm down, changeling!” I try to yell over the wind, the rain, and the pounding sea, but it doesn’t get through. She’s too frightened.

“I can’t swim!” Her gasp is desperate, her arms flailing wildly.

I reach for the oar and barely manage to touch it with my fingertips as Beth pushes me down, her struggle to survive filling her mind and overriding reason. I take a deep breath and let her sit atop me for a few moments, then dart away and grab the oar. She shrieks as she sinks again, but I pull her back up and push the oar into her arms.

“Hang on to it,” I yell. “Kick your feet to tread water.”

She coughs and hugs it tight, the wood only buoyant enough to keep her head above water.

I turn just in time to see another gigantic wave cresting down onto us, and I pull her and the oar close as the deluge hits like a load of stone. My back takes the brunt, but Beth is sputtering again.

We won’t last out here much longer. I spin in the water. My sense of direction is utterly lost, but I know land can’t be far. Another wave builds. I hold onto her arm.

“Don’t let me go. Please don’t,” she begs.

I have half a mind to force her to agree to go to the winter realm in exchange for saving her from drowning, but honor forbids me from voicing the idea. That and the growl of the feral, who wants nothing more than to drag her onto the sand and claim her in the throes of the tempest.

We ride the wave. Up, up, up. At the crest, I can see the dark outline of the shore. It’ll be a hard swim, but I won’t give up. Not when my mate is in danger. She can ride my corpse to safety if she has to.

I maneuver her onto my back, her hands gripping too tightly around my neck. But she lets go of the oar, and I hold it out in front of me like a weapon as I kick hard toward the waiting sand. Waves continue to build and heave onto us, some cresting over us, some blessedly waiting to hit the shallows before falling forward, the white foam piled high until another wave follows.

“We’re going to die.” She shivers even though the water is warm.

“I’ve got you.” I kick harder, even though my muscles ache, my heart hammers, and I burn through every bit of energy I have, leaving nothing behind. A hard, crashing wave rips the oar from my grip, and I struggle to keep my head above water. She doesn’t let go, clinging to me