Chapter 11

11

A startled gasp flies past my lips as I shoot up straight, panic overtaking me.

It was a nightmare, wasn't it? I couldn't have possibly developed a one-sided crush on the Dark One. And I couldn't have possibly thrown myself at him and offered him my blood so he can go back to being a bad guy and terrorize more people. No, I could have never done that.

To my everlasting disappointment, it was not a nightmare.

A shudder goes down my back as flashbacks inundate my mind.

Gray icy eyes. Sharp cheekbones. Strong jaw. Big, manly hands.

My breathing intensifies.

His name… He said his name was Nykander.

I squeeze my eyes shut as I remember begging him to take me with him, telling him everything I could do to entertain him. God… How could I allow myself to become such a clown?

My ex-boyfriend the Dark One doesn't like to share.

He doesn't want these lips to go anywhere near another man.

Meanwhile, the actual Dark One was secretly laughing at me while I made a cake of myself with all those silly proclamations.

Even now, my stomach rebels at the thought. My cheeks burn with shame as I remember all the nonsense I spouted.

I am the reason he wakes up in the morning.

The light to his dark, dark soul…

Those words mock me, echoing in my mind until all I want to do is melt onto the floor and become a tiny dust particle invisible to the naked eye. Only then will I be able to escape the mocking laughter accompanying those thoughts.

"Aghhhhh!" I scream, flailing my arms and legs back and forth. The plushness of the mattress allows for my rather violent and uncivilized outburst. But as I stretch even more and bang my head on the wooden headboard, I'm brought back to reality.

"Ouch," I murmur as I rub the back of my head, a modicum of calm settling over me.

If it wasn't enough that I told him I would perform a dance routine with my PomPom for him, he had to make me a lewd proposition that shattered all my romantic dreams.

He wanted me to entertain him in a completely different way than I had in mind. And I thought he was a better man because he had been nice to me and my dogs.

"Stupid," I mutter to myself. "So damn stupid!"

That's what I get for mistaking the least amount of attention for interest. I deserve that embarrassment and more since it was all my fault for envisioning myself as the main character in a romance novel. Thinking back, a shudder racks my body as I remember all my foolish romantic notions.

And for what? Because he was tall, dark, and handsome? So are a billion other people—though admittedly, not as handsome.

I take a few calming breaths. Once I have a better grasp on myself, I study my surroundings. Wooden panels fill my vision. There is a door a few feet away, and two windows on each side, allowing for light to stream inside.

I frown. The location is unfamiliar.

Where am I?

I swing my legs over the bed.

The room is small. Maybe two hundred square feet at best.

The floor is heated, and my toes curl in satisfaction as I tread barefoot across the room. That's also when I realize I am not wearing my shoes. Glancing down at myself, I note that I'm wearing a clean pink dress instead of the stinky gown from before. And just for good measure, I sniff my armpits, nodding to myself.

Not bad. I am clean.

But that also begs the question. How am I clean? And who the hell changed my clothes?

A scowl pulls at my face.

That Dark One should better hope he wasn't the one to undress me or he will feel the full power of my wrath. Hell hath no fury like a Barbi scorned!

I continue to look around. There is a wardrobe to the side and a small table with one chair next to it. Behind me is the bed I was sleeping in and a small nightstand by the side. There are no personal items around or anything to suggest that anyone inhabits this cabin.

In the back, there is a semi-open door that leads to a small bathroom, equipped with a shower, sink, and toilet.

But something is missing.

Where are PomPom and BonBon?

Panic swells in my chest and I run toward the front door, wrenching it open and ready to go searching for my dogs.

"What the…" I squeak as I grab onto the doorframe to keep myself from falling. My feet dangle over a precipice, teetering back and forth as I attempt to haul myself back up.

This damn tiny house was built on a cliff that feeds directly into a ditch.

Good Lord! I can't even see the bottom.

Mist slithers through every crevice of the valley, obscuring much of the landscape. A few mountain peaks in the distance are entirely covered in snow and ice—not at all comforting since that only occurs at very high altitudes.

"Help," I whimper. My hands are slowly slipping, gravity pulling me down.

Seconds trickle by. My life flashes before my eyes as I say a small prayer.

This is it.

This is the end.

I squeeze my eyes shut just as my grip on the wood fails me, my nails chafed to the bone and bleeding.

The next moment, I fall.

A whooshing sound explodes in my ears from the pressure of the fall.

Mom, Dad, I'm sorry. I've been a bad daughter. I'm sorry I never met your expectations and always disappointed you.

PomPom, forgive me for not taking care of you better. You, too, BonBon—even if our acquaintance was brief.

A scream is wrenched out of my throat, my arms flailing all around me as my heart threatens to explode in my chest.

There is no more time for regrets as I fall through the mist, heading straight for the ground.

But there is one certainty above all.

There is no Prince Charming to save me.

There is no Dark One to torch the world in his search for me.

The books lied .

A green patch of land appears in sight, but I have no time to process the visual stimuli before I hit the ground.

I blink against the wave of pain that assails me. I am flat on my back, my gaze toward the blue sky with a tint of gray.

My limbs are in an awkward position, one leg beneath me, the other bent the wrong way. My shoulders are bent at an angle, and based on the blood I note as I glance down, I assume the bone has broken through flesh.

Deep breaths.

I am not dead.

How? I don't know.

But my body is absolutely wrecked.

I try to move my hands. The pain is astounding, and I cannot stop myself from crying aloud as I pull my arms into a normal position. There are, indeed, quite a few broken bones that are protruding through my skin.

Despite the pain, I manage to pull myself into a sitting position.

Confusion swirls in my mind, but at the same time, there's an odd calm that settles over me as I jolt my arm with enough strength, the bones align into position. I do the same for the other one, not surprised to see that they easily go back into place. Even better, the skin slowly mends until no blemish remains.

Odd. But I'm not complaining.

I move my attention to my legs. If my arms could mend, then my legs should as well.

I pull my right leg from under me, placing it straight on the ground as I push my weight onto my bones so they realign. Somehow, that happens seamlessly.

What sorcery is this?

The left leg is a bit more tricky. My tibia is broken in two, one side sticking out of my skin. I punch the protruding side down until it meets the other one. Like a puzzle, I put my body back together until I'm back to normal again—or as much as I can be.

Once the pain has subsided, I get up, feeling my limbs whole again but also feeling them…foreign. As if they're mine but not mine anymore.

A deep sense of disappointment envelops me—something akin to having my heart torn out of my chest. There's longing. A bleeding hole inside my chest that's hemorrhaging invisible blood.

Where am I? What am I?

And how the hell am I alive?

I fell from a distance of over a thousand feet. By all accounts, I should not only be dead, but there should be little left of me intact. Instead, here I am. Alive. Healed.

How?

Did I catch something from the Dark One? He healed himself before, didn't he? When I gave him back his finger, it immediately attached itself to his hand. The puncture wounds on my neck healed too when he bit me. Did he have anything to do with this?

But as I think about him, a pang of pain stabs at my heart. Why is the memory of him so poignant? Whereas before I was mortified of my actions, willing myself to forget all those silly interactions, now I replay them in my mind continuously—almost as if searching for something but not knowing what .

He is a hateful man. He is a beguiling man.

I shake my head at myself. Stop it, Barbi! You deserve better!

You deserve an actual villain to burn the world for you, not one who'd let you fall from a cliff.

That's it! Mr. Nykander the Dark One is not the villain for me.

I trudge my way forward, wandering aimlessly and thinking of more silly things—like how to find and train my own villain.

I chuckle at my own expense as I continue walking.

Am I still in Akkaya? I wonder.

There was no accessible entrance to that cabin, so the only reasonable explanation is that a certain someone must have taken me there.

But why?

If he was so hard-pressed about me remaining in Akkaya, why did he not take me to the portal and haul me back into my world?

Or am I already in my world, and the cabin is where the portal took me?

Then what about my dogs? Where are PomPom and BonBon?

I release a ragged breath. So many questions, so few answers.

My dress is stained with blood. My skin, too.

I look like a walking nightmare.

"At least there's no one around to see how low I've fallen," I murmur to myself, self-deprecation my only remaining friend.

Once upon a time, I was pink. Now I am bloody red…

The landscape is as I imagined during my fall. A lush, green valley between mountains, with massive forests stretching in front of me. It's also devoid of life. There aren't people around, but more surprisingly, there aren't any animals either.

I suddenly stop.

A prickling sensation builds just under my skin—a hum that makes all my cells vibrate in unison. The skin over my heart burns. I rub the spot with my fingers to alleviate the discomfort, but the burn becomes increasingly more pronounced.

That's when I hear it.

"Barbi!"

His thundering voice echoes through the valley, the bass reverberating through my body—a soft caress that makes me betray my previous conviction.

The burn intensifies, pulsating to life and dictating the tempo of my heart.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

It echoes in my ear, seemingly echoing in the valley, too.

It echoes in the distance, washing over me, over the landscape, over the world.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

I bang my fist over my heart. It will not stop.

Nykander comes into sight just as his voice becomes louder. He travels down from the sky, his body floating effortlessly.

He flies, but he has no wings. Just as my heart sings, but it has no strings.

My mouth is dry, my pulse drumming in my ears.

He's bloody red too. Head to toe, he is covered in blood.

"Barbi!" he calls out as his feet touch the ground in front of me.

His eyes are wide with shock as he regards my red-stained dress. He peruses my body for injuries, circling around me and regarding me with an unusual worry in his gaze.

"What happened to you?" he demands in a rough voice.

His hand circles my arm, pulling me toward him.

"How did you get here? Are you hurt?"

"Let go," I grit out, pushing him out of my personal space. His mere presence does things to my heart, making that heartburn choke the life out of me.

He doesn't budge.

"Where are you hurt?" He grinds his teeth, his hands moving up and down my body.

"Let. Go!"

"Stop moving."

"I am fine. You do not need to fake worry about me, oh you dangerous Dark One." I roll my eyes. "Go back to terrorizing poor villagers and forget about me," I mutter drily.

He purses his lips.

"Start talking, Barbi. What happened? How did you get down here?"

"I fell. Seems I am fall-proof, though." I laugh.

He doesn't find it funny, his eyes dipping to my chest.

"Eyes here, mister," I snap, using one finger to push up his jaw—or attempting to since he's quite a bit taller than me.

"You fell and you are fine. You are not injured…" he muses to himself. "I see."

"What? What do you see?"

Does he know anything? Was I right and he infected me somehow? Maybe with his saliva when he bit my neck?

Ugh. Only I would have the luck to let a guy's lips close to me for the first time and get infected.

"It does not matter. Let us go back." He shakes his head, pulling on my arm and dragging me with him.

I stand my ground.

"I am not going anywhere with you, mister," I tell him.

He half-turns, raising a brow at me.

"Not too long ago you were begging me to take you with me."

"A lapse of judgment on my part." I push my chin up. "I have since seen the error of my ways."

An amused glint enters his eyes.

"Is it because you found out who I am?"

"As if," I huff aloud. "It's because of your abysmal behavior. It seems there has been a misunderstanding between us." I clear my throat. "I was merely being grateful for your help. There will not be anything inappropriate going on between us. In fact, we can each go our separate ways now."

"Is that so?"

He doesn't sound convinced.

"Yes. We clearly do not suit. And regarding my previous claims," I swallow hard, embarrassment once more filling me to the brim. "Please disregard all I have said about the Dark One. It was merely a defense mechanism, you know. I am, after all, a defenseless girl in a foreign world. My innocent lies were only meant to deter bad guys from doing bad things."

His lips tip up in an amused smile—one that makes my insides flutter.

No! I cannot let myself be lured by his handsomeness. Get your hormones under control, Barbi!

"Innocent lies? One could say those were devastating lies," he drawls.

"W-what?" I blink.

He takes a step closer. His shoes meet my bare feet.

I tip my head up to look at him as I nibble on my bottom lip.

"I have a reputation to maintain. What would people say if they found out I have a heart ?"

My lashes flutter. A flush spreads up my neck.

"Well." I lick my lips. "You should take that up with psycho Damien," I stammer. "He's the one who told everyone I was the Dark One's lover. I merely capitalized on it."

He laughs.

"I think I might allow you to entertain me, Barbi." He nods to himself.

My eyes widen.

"The hell I will," I burst out. "You…" I jab my finger in his chest. "You…"

"Yes?"

"You are a bad guy, and I don't entertain bad guys," I add with a huff. "Now tell me where my dogs are and we can part ways."

Once I get my babies back, I can put this entire thing behind me. No more embarrassment and no more making a clown of myself. It doesn't matter how handsome or how attractive this villain might be, he is clearly not for me. And I will not beg for scraps, nor will I swallow my dignity for one moment of attention.

"They are at the cabin," he slowly answers, his icy eyes half-melted by a hint of warmth.

"Good. Take me to them and tell me how to get to the portal. I will make my way home."

I move past him in the direction of the mountain where the cabin is. It takes me only a few steps to realize he hasn't moved from his place, his gaze clouded and conflicted.

"I am afraid that is no longer possible," he speaks slowly.

"What do you mean?" I ask, scandalized.

His lips morph into a thin line.

"You fell from a mountain, Barbi. Are you not curious why you are still in one piece?" he inquires lazily.

I stop.

Meeting his eyes, I hold his gaze, unsure how to answer his question.

I am curious. I am also terrified of the answer.

"I must have caught a bug or something from you," I mumble.

Placing his palm up, he materializes a small knife and offers it to me.

"Cut yourself," he instructs.

"What? Are you crazy?"

"Cut yourself, Barbi," he repeats, coming closer. He takes my hand and wraps it around the handle of the knife, placing the blade against my open palm.

"Uhm, Mr. Dark One, erm, Nykander… Maybe we can discuss this without sharp objects around… I'm sure we can come to an understanding and…" I mumble nervously.

He doesn't listen. Instead, he forces the blade down my skin, cutting a straight line on the inside of my left palm.

I yelp in pain. He releases me and I stumble back, my expression a mix of shock and hurt that he would do something like that.

But then he raises his own left palm.

The same line appeared on his flesh, mirroring my own.

But just as it appears, it starts closing. The blood stops and the flesh mends together. And as his wound heals, so does mine.

I stare in shock at my palm. Only stains of blood remain, but no wound.

"How? What's happening to me…" I whisper.

My cut appeared on his palm, and when his healed, mine healed too.

I grab the knife and cut again, this time somewhere less coincidental—my face. The blade digs into my cheek and I grit my teeth as I drag it down. My eyes are affixed to his face. The same cut appears on his cheek. As I cut my skin, his gets cut, too—even though there is no blade to cause the damage.

Whatever I do to my body is duplicated on his.

My body freezes in shock. The blade falls to the ground as I watch dumbstruck as his cut heals completely, and with it mine too.

We stare at each other. He has a grave look on his face; mine is one of disbelief.

"When you hurt, I hurt," he speaks in a haunting voice as he comes toward me. "When you fell, I fell too, despite having my feet firmly planted on the ground."

My eyes scan his bloody clothes, the patterns of bleeding unusually similar to the ones on my dress.

"I don't understand. You're saying that if I get hurt, you get hurt too? But how? Why? We're nothing to each other."

A sad smile tugs at his lips.

"As much as I would like to agree with your statement, I am afraid I cannot."

"What do you mean?" I frown.

He takes a step toward me.

I gulp down, watching him warily.

He holds my gaze as he raises his hand.

I squeeze my eyes shut, thinking he's going to hurt me again to prove a point.

But there is no pain. There is only the sound of material ripping as he pulls on the top of my gown until it tears.

I gasp, instinctively wrapping my arms around myself to keep my top from falling and leaving me naked from the waist up.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I demand sharply.

He doesn't answer me. Instead, he pulls on his own shirt, buttons flying everywhere as he tears it open to reveal his naked chest.

There, over his heart, is a dark mark that looks as if it has been carved into his flesh with a hot iron. It's an intricate design comprised mostly of straight lines and sharp angles.

I don't know what prompts me to lower my arms and look down at my own chest. An identical mark is over my heart, right above my breast. It has the same patterns and the same dark color as if it had been burned into my skin.

And it had, hadn't it?

The site of the mark has been burning viciously for some time now, but I'd been too caught up in my feelings to investigate.

"What is this?" I whisper, swaying on my feet and feeling a little lightheaded.

"A mating mark," he responds slowly, angrily.

"A what?"

"It means you are my mate, Barbi. Whether I want it or not, we are bound together now."