Page 16 of In Violent Waves

Wilder’s attention narrowed on the droplets clinging to her pale skin before he ripped the container from her hands. Their hands grazed, and Lyra stared at where his skin had touched hers.

An unusual feeling—that touch.

“Let’s move,” he grumbled.

The trees grew closer, and the glow of the small, distant village winked out of existence. He was moving quickly. If she were going to escape, she needed to do it soon. But how?

Lyra stared down at the rope around her wrist. If she had teeth, she could bite through it. Hell, even her nails would have worked against this pathetically human contraption. But stuck in this body, she had nothing.

She tugged at the rope around her wrist. It swayed and jostled under her ministrations.

Wilder turned around in an instant to glare at her.

“Haven’t I made myself perfectly clear?”

Lyra held her hands up in surrender. But anger simmered in her eyes.

She would find a way.

Wilder saw the fight in her that was growing, a steady current of power swelling like a wave before it crashed against the shore.

“There is not a place you could run, a place you could hide, that I would not find you, Legs. And trust me, out here,” he gestured around to the tall trees, “you don’t want to leave my side.”

“I’m not scared of you,” Lyra muttered.

“You should be,” he replied over his shoulder, already turning his back to her.

“And why, might I ask? Because you kidnap helpless females under your king’s orders? Pathetic. I bet you haven’t made a single decision in your entire life! You’re a coward, little princeling.”

Wilder shook his head. His dark mass of hair bounced with the movement. “You talk too much.” But his tone held a sharp edge of annoyance.

If she could burrow herself under his skin, maybe he would let her go to free himself of her.

“What is that you want? Jewels? Gold?”

He didn’t answer, but she could see his shoulders stiffen.

“I am the Princess! Tales of my beauty are known across the realm. Surely that would be enough to entice you for a trade?”

Wilder laughed and shook his head as he halted to stare at her.

“There is nothing that you could offer me that I would trade for my duty to my kingdom. Save your breath. You’ll need your energy for this journey.”

Wilder tugged her forward, walking along the narrow path into the increasing darkness of the forest. The canopy of leaves blotted out the stars, and it was a struggle for her to see where they were going. He was leading her into the depths of darkness, and she was terrified. Yet his feet did not falter, and each step was meticulously planted.

With nothing else to do, she wielded her knowledge as a weapon. Lyra would talk and talk until it annoyed him enough that he didn’t notice when she slipped the rope. Or until he gagged her, and in that case, she would fling herself to the ground and fight with everything she had.

Lyra would not go down without a fight. She had to get back to the water—where she belonged.

“Did you know these trees are a mix of juniper and hawthorn?”

Her voice seemed amplified in the sleeping forest, her tone purposely superior. Males hated it when you knew a thing more than they did.

Wilder grunted in response.

“And that tree there,” she jutted with her chin, “is an ash tree.”

“Quiet,” he hissed. His head swiveled from side to side as if he were looking for something.