Taken (Fae's Captive #5) - Lily Archer Page 0,28

her bottom lip, her concern like a warm liquor coating my insides.

With my good arm, I stroke her cheek. “My beloved.”

Her eyes flutter closed for a second. “I love it when you call me that.”

“I know.” I spin and thrust my pike out.

A hissing cry cuts through the trees as I impale a huge snake, its’s fangs already dripping venom and prepared to strike.

Beth’s scream seems to puncture my eardrum, but it dies down as she realizes I’ve speared the snake right through its brain. Its luminous green eyes lose some of their shine as its enormous body convulses once, the tremor flowing from its thick head all the way to a tail I can barely see through the dense leaves.

“He killed Baturan,” the tree a few paces away whispers. The statement spreads through the jungle like a ripple through water. Soon, they’re all talking about it, the gossip coming back at me from every angle.

“The great snake. Dead!”

“Baturan killed?”

“By what?”

“Baturan dead?”

“By my leaves, it’s true. Baturan is—”

I shake my head. Hard. The cacophony disappears.

Beth’s voice trembles as she peers at the great serpent. “That thing must have come from the Spires.”

I debate the wisdom of cutting off a hunk for later when I can build a fire, but decide against it. Could be poisonous. I can’t take the risk, especially when I have my mate to protect.

I thrust it off my pike as Beth clings to me.

“You’re safe.” I stroke her hip.

She takes a deep breath then steps back a little. “Right. Safe. Snake slain.”

Peering over the slight ledge we’re on, I can see an even muddier descent below. If we aren’t careful, we could lose our footing, then our lives.

“Snake killed.” She seems to be speaking to herself. “No more snake. We are safe.”

“Ready?” I want to take her hand, but my good one is holding the pike, and the bad one is … really bad.

She nods. “We can go. I mean, we’re almost through the jungle.” She points at the snake. “And nothing can be worse than that, right?”

The trees snicker.

I wince. “Things can always be wor—”

A shriek from overhead pulls my attention away, and a great shadow pulses over the treetops above us.

“What was that?” Her nails dig into my side.

“We need to get lower.” I grab her with my bad hand, the ache in it like a million scorpion stings, and pull her with me to the edge. “Slow going. Follow my steps. Don’t get in a hurry or—”

The shriek comes again, and the trees behind us rustle. Great clawed talons appear as the bird drops through a hole in the canopy, its midnight feathers and blood-red head marking it as a Grim Eagle. It’s already spotted us, its huge wings expanded just enough to avoid the sharp thorns as it dives toward us. We can’t survive its claws, much less its razor-edged beak.

“Gareth!” Beth’s voice quakes. “Use your magic!”

“Can’t.” I throw one glance at the muddy descent, then another at the great bird. Yanking Beth under my arm, I throw both of us off the ledge, our bodies hitting the mud with a wet thunk as the Grim Eagle’s talons stretch out for us.

“My ass,” Beth groans and rolls to her side.

I hold my hand out to heal her aches.

“Save it.” She waves me away. “Better yet, use it on your arm.”

“My arm will heal.”

“Sure, but if I have to watch you stop, stand still, and stare at a tree as if it’s speaking to you one more time, I may lose my mind.”

“I don’t—”

“You do,” she snipes. “Heal your arm.”

“You may as well do what she says,” the thick tree whose roots we’ve taken shelter beneath grumbles. “That poison isn’t fatal, but you’ll start hallucinating soon if you don’t heal it.”

“Soon?” I tap the nearest root. It’s almost as muddy as I am.

The tree giggles. “Stop. That tickles.”

I do it again and laugh along with the tree.

Beth sighs. “Gareth, you’re poisoned and talking to the roots. Just use your magic.” She rolls over and cups my face. “I am begging you. I prefer grumpy Gareth to giggling Gareth any day.”

It’s a waste of magic, but if my mate begs, I can’t deny her. I concentrate on my swollen arm, green sparks skittering along my skin as the dark red poison oozes out, my flesh repairing itself as my mind clears.

“Thank you.” She releases my face and flips to her stomach, her pert, muddy backside filling my vision.

Before she can refuse, I send the