Winterly (Dark Creatures Book 1), стр. 83
In the lantern light a pair of savage yellow orbs appeared unblinking amidst the rank leaves. If that deep growl was any indication of its size, the beast was monstrous.
With a piercing scream, Milli shrank back from it and tripped over her skirts in her haste to flee. She gained no more than three clumsy steps before the air was stricken from her lungs. She hit the gravel and screamed again. A pair of mighty jaws closed over her wrist, the fangs holding fast as she was shaken mercilessly.
Amidst her desperate struggle and the sound of her own terror, she heard a shout and the sound of gravel flying beneath pounding feet. And then, as sudden as the attack had come, it was over and she was being lifted, still thrashing, into a pair of steely arms. There was gravel dust and tears in her eyes, she couldn’t see. The momentary blindness only compounded her horror. It was of no moment in whose arms she was cradled, she wanted only to be away, safe inside the castle. Safe from the thing that had tried to eat her.
Her rescuer was of the same mind, for he was already racing from the scene, his calming whispers lost in the confusion of her cries. She used her uninjured arm to swipe the tears and dirt away. Behind them, her lantern lay abandoned and snuffed by the hedge. The darkness was thick, too thick to see the fiend now shrouded therein. But it was there, watching; she could see the glare of unholy yellow eyes cutting through the night to pierce her very soul.
Only once the mighty doors were barred against the darkness did Milli close her eyes again. Every sinew trembled with violence. Her teeth chattered with cold and shock, and there was a throbbing ache in her wrist and a chafe in her eyes. Worst of all, her ears were still ringing with the sound of growls and gnashing fangs, and with her own blood-curdling screams.
When she chanced to open her eyes again, she was being gently placed in an armchair beside the fire in her bedchamber. She was alone with Nicholas. It was he that had rescued her!
He positioned his chair close to Milli’s and bent his gaze intently over her wrist, his brow drawn low over those striking blue eyes. “Shall I fetch you a glass of sherry?”
She shook her head vigorously. The thought of him leaving her even for a moment was unbearable. “What…what was that thing?” She could barely get the words past her ragged throat.
“Thing? You didn’t see it?”
The turbulent shudder of her limbs might have served as a negative, but still she said, “No, it was too dark.”
His look was long and measured. At last he gave a sigh. “One of the hounds, I’m afraid.”
“A hound?!” She gaped at him and slumped back against her chair. “Is such a hound to be allowed license to roam the estate? I might have been killed!”
His lips tightened. “You were warned not to venture out at night.”
She opened her mouth to retort but quickly snapped her teeth shut. He was right, of course, but that did not mean his words did not rankle. He ought to be lavishing her with apologies and sweet words, not scolding her. Perhaps it was just as well she did not admit to being warned a second time by that Skinner creature. “You warned of bogs not dogs, or I’d not have dared go outside.” She felt the hot upsurge of fresh tears and glanced down at her scarred wrist. What a mangled mess that damned beast had made of her poor flesh. She would have to wear long sleeves for the rest of her life now. Wretched beast! “I…I know I ought not have followed you outside, it was naughty of me. I am sorry for it.” She truly was, for her punishment was to wear these scars forevermore.
The rose will not long bear such pretty petals. Milli gasped. Was this what that old fortuneteller had meant? Her flesh indelibly scarred? How strange! And to think, she had paid a penny to learn something so useless—hardly forewarning when the time and place was not divulged as well.
Nicholas raised his head to look a question at her. “Your finger is bleeding.”
“A thorn,” she replied.
He considered this lesser injury and said, almost to himself, “The blood. A predator cannot resist the scent of blood…nor the lure of fleeing prey.”
She gave a shudder. “Well, the thought of staying to pit myself against your beast was not all that appealing at the time.”
His nostrils flared suddenly. “You have masked your scent tonight, it will have confused the animal.”
“I have done no such thing.”
His lips curled in distaste and dubiety, but he lifted one shoulder and changed the subject. “Why did you follow me outside?”
Lord! Had she really admitted that? She could feel the heat rushing back into her cheeks. They must have been bloodless until now. Would that he had found a safer subject. What he really wanted to know was why she had abandoned all proprieties. And what exactly might she have done or said if she’d encountered him or that devil, Grimm, instead of his vicious hound, she was sure she had no idea. She’d not thought that far ahead. Instead, she turned the question around on him. “Why were you out on”—what had Skinner called it?—“a black moon?”
He raised a stern brow. “To rescue a wayward woman from her folly.”
Milli shrank further into the chair when no viable excuse presented itself.
Thankfully, he was gracious enough to let the matter drop. His attention returned to the wound, and once again his face tightened with worry.
Fearful of his manifest unease, she peered down at her wrist. “Will it putrefy?” Dear God, was she in danger of losing her arm?! “Will I die?!”
Nicholas stood abruptly