Page 12 of In Violent Waves

His hand slipped around her throat like a large, tight necklace. Her blood heated at the scrape of his calluses against her flesh, causing her breathing to stutter through her lips.

Lyra didn’t see his arm move before his fist connected with her jaw.

Blackness erupted, and she was gone, lost, floating in the spaces between the stars.

Lyra’s head thudded against Wilder’s back with each of his long strides. The constant swaying motion and the crunching of his boots upon the trodden grass roused her.

Blood roared behind her closed eyes, and it was an effort to peel them open. She was met with the sight of his backside, and unfortunately, it was as firm as she imagined it would be.

The thought made her roll her eyes, and then she hissed from the pain.

“I wondered how long it would take …”

The rich timbre of his voice rumbled through her where his shoulder pressed into her abdomen.

She squirmed in his hold, anger pulsing through her. Not at the humiliation of being carried like a sack of grain, but because this male—this elf—ruined a night she was most looking forward to. The unsatisfied itch curdled within her, souring her already tepid mood.

She took back all the lust she had originally felt—she hated him.

Lyra screamed, pounding her fists on the pack strapped to his back and kicking as if her feet were fins to swim away. A well-placed kick to the gut had Wilder dropping her to the ground. Trapped in the layers of twisted fabrics, she flopped to the ground like a floundering fish.

A blade appeared out of thin air and pressed against her throat.

“Try to escape, Princess, and I’ll run you through.”

Lyra stared up at him, not with arousal or lust this time, but with pure hatred.

“Where are we? And where are my friends?”

Wilder lowered the blade an inch and tilted his head.

“I didn’t know mermaids were capable of having friends.”

She bared her teeth at him in a display of violence before she realized the futility of that action. Her sharp teeth were gone, all the armor she was accustomed to having—gone.

She screamed with rage, tilting her head up to the night sky and bellowing with all the frustration that she had worked to lock away.

Wilder glowered but did nothing.

Her chest heaved, and she scrubbed at her face with a dirt-covered hand.

“Where are you taking me?”

She looked up at him but saw past his face to the sparkles behind him. Not sparkles—stars.

Millions upon millions of stars. Constellations and other tidbits of information surfaced in her mind.

The Northern Star leads away from home. Yarrow is good for pain when the legs become too sore, and unsalted water would be a necessity in this world if you were trapped here.

She looked around, peering into the sky for the big star. Unfortunately, it was behind her.

He was leading them towards it and away from the sea—away from her kingdom.

“Why are we going north?”

His eyes narrowed, and he sheathed the sword in its scabbard, then adjusted the straps of the pack.

“We’re meeting with my guard, and then we’ll be escorting you to the Wilds.”