2. A Hell of My Own Making

Chapter 2

A Hell of My Own Making

Ow!

Ow! Ow! Owowowow!

My face hurt. And my head hurt.

I squeezed my watering eyes shut and covered my face with my hands as pain radiated from my nose while an answering ache echoed from the back of my head.

What the fuck!

But…pain…pain meant I was still alive, right?

I didn't know the ins and outs of dying. Honestly, I'd always thought death was pretty final, and there would be no more pain. Yet, right now, for being a corpse, I was feeling a fucking lot of it.

The last thing I remembered was the SUV roaring at me as though it meant to crush me against the stone railing of the bridge.

And I'd gone over.

Falling…into the water.

But I wasn't dead as far as I could tell.

I wasn't even wet.

"Are you okay?"

A firm but gentle voice had my eyes snapping open to find a ridiculously handsome man kneeling over me, his enormous green eyes peering into mine as if he were trying to see something written on my soul.

"Who? What? I—" I stammered, which only sent his sharply angled eyebrows shooting toward his lush blond hair. After blinking away the tears to clear my vision, I stared at the stranger. God, he was fucking gorgeous. Was he even real? Who had high, sharp cheekbones like that? And that mouth. Only supermodels possessed such full lips tilted into an adorable, bemused smile.

My brain wasn't operating at full capacity yet. Nothing was making sense. I needed to be logical about things. Was I okay?

"No, my face hurts." But even as I spoke, the pain in my nose and head were already fading. Why was this stranger at my side? Unless… "Did you hit me? Is that why my nose hurts? Did you fucking punch me?"

With his deep chuckle, the man scattered the few scraps of thought I'd gathered into a pile.

This was all wrong.

Hello, world. Someone needs to check the script. Women. Hetero. I dug women. Particularly the short, spunky ones who liked to read.

The point was, I was not gay. Not into guys. I should not have had my stomach flipping like a pancake because some strange man was laughing at me.

"No, I didn't hit you," the stranger stated. He tipped his pointed chin up. "You took one look at me and ran into that tree."

"What?" I squawked.

Lovely. I was the king of first impressions. If I gave up writing, I was going to give seminars on how to make a memorable first impression, because this was going swimmingly.

" Mn . You walked right into that tree, turned, and fell," my new "friend" explained, the last tendrils of his smile disappearing. "I came over to make sure you hadn't killed yourself."

"No, not dead yet," I muttered. With extreme care, I inspected my nose with my fingertips. It was still tender as hell, but it didn't feel broken. There didn't even seem to be any blood gushing out, as I would have expected. Maybe I'd only knocked myself silly. I lowered my hands and turned my attention to the man. "Does it look broken to you?"

He extended a long, pale finger and slid it along the bridge of my nose, sending sparks and tingles through every nerve ending in my body. "Looks perfect to me."

That was enough nonsense. I planted both hands on the ground, shoved into an upright position, and wished I hadn't. My head swam, but it was nothing compared to the confusion and panic threatening to swamp me.

Where the fuck was I?

Trees…as far as the eye could see.

Trees everywhere.

No roads. No buildings. Not even a single freaking car. Definitely no sign of the car that had tried to run me down or the bridge I thought I'd fallen off.

How did I get into the middle of a forest when I was supposed to be drowning?

There was even a saddled horse nosing its way through a patch of green grass a short distance away.

"Where am I?" Those three words slipped past my trembling lips, sounding like the last utterance of a ghost. "How did I get here?" My eyes jerked up to the man, who was now standing beside me. For the first time, I took in his appearance.

Oh God. The people at the Renaissance festival couldn't achieve this level of authenticity.

My companion wore a pair of dark-green pants that were almost molded to his powerful legs only to end in black, knee-high leather boots. His tunic was a deep red, like the color of maple leaves in the fall, with exquisite gold stitching along the hem. A long cloak the same shade of green as his pants was draped across his shoulders and held in place by a gold pin in the shape of a flower.

His eyes narrowed on me in silent question, the man seemed to weigh my strange behavior. Not that I could blame him. He'd already said I'd taken one look at him and run into a tree. Now I was claiming to not know how I'd ended up in the middle of a forest. If I were him, I'd be backing away.

"You're in Trengrave Woods." He spoke slowly, enunciating each word as if he were convinced I'd knocked all the sense right out of my brain. He was probably right.

Trengrave Woods sounded familiar, but it didn't conjure up any images of a spot on a map. I couldn't have even guessed what state I was in. It wasn't anyplace I'd visited before. Remember, I was an author and an introvert. That would make me an indoor human, not an outdoor one.

"I-I don't know it," I mumbled.

That was when I made the mistake of peering down at myself. Gone were the sneakers, jeans, and sweater I'd picked out for my lunch date with Georgie and Jack. I was dressed in clothes similar to my companion. Boots, black pants, and a navy blue tunic. Even a fucking cloak! I grabbed at it only to find that I was wearing a pair of supple black-leather gloves that came halfway up my forearms.

Holy shit! A group of rogue Renaissance LARPers had kidnapped me!

"Trengrave Woods runs along the borders of the Kingdom of Wolfrest and Edros," my companion continued, oblivious to how I was freaking out. So, naturally, he found a way to stop my heart.

My voice shattered. "What?"

"Trengrave Woods runs along the border of Wolfrest and Edros," he repeated. "Do you know it?"

Do I know it?

Of course I knew it. I'd fucking created it.

That was why the name of the woods sounded so familiar. I'd cobbled the name together weeks ago, along with the names of the six kingdoms. They were from my book !

A loud wheezing sound filled the area, and it was only when Blondie kneeled beside me and placed a firm hand on my shoulder that I realized the sound was coming from me. I was hyperventilating, but I couldn't stop. Nothing made sense. I'd fallen off a bridge and landed in my own unfinished novel? How the hell did something like that even happen?

Sure, plenty of people fell in love with a good story and wanted to live in that world, but who wanted to get stuck in an unfinished book of tangled up plotlines, red herrings, and characters who still needed their arcs developed?

No. No. No.

This can't be happening.

The fringes of my vision darkened, and I was on the verge of passing out. I almost welcomed it. Maybe I'd wake up in my bed, and this whole crazy adventure of me leaving the house would turn out to be just a bad dream.

But I couldn't let myself pass out. What if I woke up somewhere worse? Or what if I fell off that bridge and didn't wake up at all?

"What's wrong?"

"I-I don't know how I got here," I panted. They seemed the only safe words I could say. If I babbled about how I'd created this world for a book, he'd think I was crazy and leave me alone in these woods. Alone was a bad thing. This indoor human didn't know how to forage for food or build shelter. Fuck, I was pretty sure I couldn't start a fire even if someone supplied me with a book of matches.

"You can't remember?"

I shook my head, still trying to get a handle on my all-consuming panic. Freaking out would not fix anything.

"Not even your name? Where you came from?"

"My name.…It's Adam. Adam Lockhart." That was safe enough. "Everything else is sort of blank."

My companion wrinkled his nose. "That's an odd name. Not one I've encountered, but then, I haven't met too many humans in my lifetime." He had barely finished speaking when a sudden shift in the breeze rattled the leaves in the trees. He turned his head to glance about, as if making sure the wind was the only thing making noises, and gave me a very clear view of his pointed ear poking out from his golden-blond hair.

Elf!

Fuck.

Elf. Elf. Elf. Elf.

I was talking to an elf.

A real, honest-to-God elf.

I was dead. I had to be dead. How could I be alive if I was sitting in the middle of the woods talking to an elf?

But if I were dead…

Before I even finished that thought, I lifted a gloved hand and pinched the bridge of my nose. A yelp of pain jumped from my lips and my eyes watered. Pain meant I wasn't dead, and I wasn't dreaming. This was something else.

The elf's eyes snapped to me, and his smooth brow furrowed. Yep, I was making him question my sanity. Not that I could blame him. Nothing that had come out of my mouth or even my actions since he'd first set his eyes on me could be called normal.

"Lockhart?"

"Yes? I…" I stopped on a sigh, not even knowing whether I should tell him to use my first name or just let it go. My brain was turning into cold gloppy oatmeal, and there wasn't enough brown sugar in all the world to save it.

A grunt escaped the elf, and he stood, brushing his hands off against each other. "That has decided it. You're coming with me," he announced. "I wasn't looking to acquire a pet, but my conscience won't allow me to leave you alone here. You're likely to be eaten by something the moment my back is turned."

My mouth opened to let loose an indignant shout, but the sound withered in my throat. I'd been thinking the same thing a second earlier. While I wasn't keen on being viewed as a "pet," I couldn't argue that my survival skills rivaled those of a toddler.

"There's a town close to here called Misty Pass. If we're lucky, we'll find someone there who recognizes you. At the very least, we can have a healer inspect your injuries."

What he wasn't saying was that he was hoping to make me that poor doctor's problem. That was fine. Return me to society where I could find food and shelter and— God help me —people. Then I might figure out what the hell had happened and if there was any chance of getting home.

"Yeah," I exhaled. With a nod, I repeated it for myself as much as for this helpful stranger. "Yeah, that might be a good idea. Thanks." The elf extended his hand, and I took it, using him to pull myself up to stand on shaky legs. "By the way, what's your name?"

The elf paused, and the tip of his tongue sneaked out to slide across his bottom lip. "Nylian. You may call me Nylian."

" Mn ."

That little grunt was the best I could manage. It was taking all of my shattered concentration to keep my face from showing my panic as I released his hand. The elf's eyes skimmed over my face.

"Thanks for your help, Nylian," I said, flashing him a crooked smile as I tried to appear as blank and helpless as I had been since first meeting him.

It must have worked, because he nodded and started toward the horse waiting nearby. "You're welcome."

The second he turned his back, I opened my mouth and let out a silent scream.

His name was not Nylian.

His real name was Xeran Elrich, former prince now living in exile after being accused of killing his twin brother, Orian.

Not only had I been dropped into Betrayal of the Elf Prince , but I'd located the main character as he was beginning his quest to regain his right to return home, and possibly even the throne.

Had I just agreed to travel with a murderer, or was he simply a victim of political intrigue?

Fuck.