Chapter 14

Little bride. The words rang in my head, slicing through soft brain matter until they were all I could hear. All I felt was warmth and solid muscle against my back, the violent rocking of the horse under me, and the press of arms on either side of me, keeping me from falling off. My entire body shook.

Little bride. So Nightmare had sent them to kill me, or to do something worse. I couldn't think what that something worse might be right now—other than the obvious worse three men could to do a woman alone and vulnerable—but my mind was flitting from ideas of torture and threats to dismemberment and—

"You're not breathing," the rider said, his voice masculine and gentle. I flinched despite its softness.

Little Bride.I was trapped. If I threw myself off the horse's back, the fall could break my arm. Or my neck. So I froze, and shook, and waited to see what they'd do.

"Breathe, little bride," that warm voice commanded, coloured by worry as if he cared about me, as if we weren't complete strangers and he hadn't been sent by Nightmare to kill me. "Now."

His hand met my stomach and pressed, forcing my mouth open on a desperate gasp. I took an involuntary breath and started to shake. The numbness and shock was waning, and in its place was truth. I'd been kidnapped.

"Please don't—don't hurt me," I rasped even though it was pointless. Either they would or wouldn't and nothing I said would change it. I shook harder, gasping air, the purple moors blurring past as the horse rode feverishly fast, the other two riders pressing closer on either side.

I froze when pressure brushed my head, then my shoulder, and I was so wild with panic that I didn't realise at first what they were. Kisses. Nightmare's rider had kissed my head and my shoulder, and if he was doing that—

"Peace," the rider with the gravelly voice spoke beside us, loud enough to make me flinch. "We're not going to hurt you. I can feel your torment and fear. It's unnecessary."

"Thanks, that helps so much, I'm definitely calm now," I snapped breathlessly.

A laugh stirred my hair. Glad I was so amusing to them.

The third rider gasped sharply. "She's here. She's hunting the bride."

My blood turned arctic, and I forgot how to breathe again. "I thought you were hunting me."

"Rescuing you," the rider who held me disagreed, making my head spin when he placed another kiss in my hair. "Tighten your legs around Mort, and here, hold onto the reins."

I was like a doll as he placed my hands where he wanted them, soft leather meeting my palms, my fingers curling numbly around the reins.

"Rescuing me," I echoed, my temperature somehow dropping lower. I shuddered, and could have sworn the fog rolling over the moors stretched towards us like ghostly hands.

"We're not Nightmare's mindless followers," the one with the gravelly voice said, as if I'd asked a question. "We're her sworn fucking enemies, so anyone she wants dead or hurt is our ally."

"Tor," the rider holding me warned softly. It was a softness full of threat, somehow more dangerous than a shout. I stiffened, grasping the reins in white-knuckled fists as the horse leapt faster under us. Fog and shadow kicked up under its hooves. Mort's hooves?

A soft hand swept the fog-damp strands of hair away from my neck, and my breathing stopped as a careful kiss found my throat. Warm breath feathered over my skin, and somehow I was a thousand times more sensitive, goosebumps rippling down my neck and across my chest.

"You're going to be very afraid," he said, "but you're safe with us. Close your eyes, my bride."

I went as still as the dead, my eyes wide open. Like hell was I closing them in the company of three strangers, especially when they said Nightmare was following us. That, I believed. Them rescuing me? Not so much.

Mybride this time. Not little bride.

I was mad, right? I was completely and utterly insane to be thinking what I was thinking. Because Nightmare had said where is the bride of death and he'll like you—a scared little rabbit with fire in her eyes. Yes, he'll like you very much.

Was this rider the he she spoke of? I sucked air in sharp, painful breaths. Had I been given to him like a toy, something to play with and break? We're her sworn fucking enemies. I didn't buy it. This was fucked up and four people were dead and I felt wrong down in my bones, like my skin didn't fit right over them.

"I can't take this," the third rider spoke, quiet and serious. She's here, he'd said, as if he could feel Nightmare closing in on us, feel her sinister power reaching out like it had that night and—

The horse on our left nudged closer, the rider leaned across the distance, and cool fingers circled my wrist. All my anxiety, all my stress, my suffering, vanished, swept away at sea, the tide returning only measured calm to me.

The rider released my wrist but I didn't move, didn't know how to react. I'd never felt this before, not for as long as I could remember. It was… empty. Strange. The place inside me that was always heavy and tight with stress was hollowed out. No, unburdened. Cleared, like my chest was a cluttered room and he'd tidied everything until there was logic and sense and space.

Air rushed into that space, and all I could do was freeze and blink. I'd never known my lungs could take in so much air. Never known I'd been living on rations.

"Fuck," I breathed, staring absently at the road, the moorland cloaked in grey fog on either side of us. "What did you—how did you do that?"

He didn't answer, only nudged his horse away.

"Questions and answers later," the rider holding me said, something final and decisive in his voice. "Close your eyes, bride, or don't blame me if you see something you wish you hadn't."

I shrugged. I wasn't closing them.

"So be it," he murmured, and kissed the shell of my ear. Cold shivers flashed down my body, turning rapidly hot. But I knew what they planned and I hated it. I seethed. More men who felt entitled to shit they didn't deserve, just like June those years ago. My nostrils flared with my next breath, darkness and rage gathering inside me.

Kill them. Kill them now before they can hurt you.

The rider behind me jolted like he heard the voice too. I hoped he did, hoped he knew what would happen the second his kisses wandered below my neckline.

I was so distracted by thoughts of violence they could inflict on me, and violence I could unleash on them, that I missed the moment when our surroundings changed. My eyes focused back on the road when the rider's arm tightened around me, and I sucked in a whimpering breath at the sight of a dark castle rising above us where the village had been.

"Oh god, how—?"

The castle towered over us, twice as tall as Milton Hall, a black, gothic conflagration of towers, spires, bridges, flying buttresses, beautiful tracery, and windows of stained glass but in shades of colourless grey instead of jewel tones.

"Death is everywhere, and can be found in any place," the rider behind me murmured, feathering a kiss across the sensitive spot behind my ear. "Now, it will answer to you. You can access my domain whenever you wish."

I swallowed. Ignored the tingling in my neck and held onto the unease rapidly rushing into the empty place in my chest where my anxiety lived. "Your domain."

I knew. I didn't want to. I really didn't want to. But I knew who held me, who spoke with such care and tenderness, who was warm and solid and kissing my skin like I was precious to him.

Where is the bride of death?

Little bride, he'd called me. And then mybride. And now here was a dark castle in the middle of Ford's End where it hadn't existed a minute ago, and the horses weren't exactly solid or living under us and—magic. Again. Undeniable and real.

"My domain," he confirmed, fingers stroking my stomach. "The realm of Death."