Chapter - 6

1289 Words
Fiona – POV After running for nearly an hour to shake off the rogues, I changed into Veronica’s coat. They were tracking my scent, but the change threw them off, giving me a bit of a lead. The dark forest that eventually swallowed me felt like something out of a nightmare—every shadow seemed to whisper threats. With my phone dead, there was no way to navigate my way out. My legs ached, burning from the effort; if I had trained like Veronica, maybe I’d have had the strength to keep going. I paused, straining to hear any signs of pursuit, but the rogues were silent. The forest around me was eerily quiet, like a scene from a horror movie. With the adrenaline fading, the bruises on my knees and hands throbbed, and my ankles screamed with every step. Exhaustion finally dragged me down, and I collapsed, slipping into an uneasy sleep amidst the trees. “Fiona,” a voice called out, low and unfamiliar. I blinked awake, disoriented, and found myself staring into a pair of intense purple eyes, glowing in the shadows. “Miss Jones,” he spoke with a tone that was cool and unreadable. “What are you doing here?” I couldn’t resist a sharp reply. “Oh, you know, having a tea party with the trees and insects at midnight. Your Highness.” He didn’t react to my sarcasm, simply taking in my disheveled state with a steady gaze. He didn’t ask for details, didn’t push me for explanations. Instead, he tilted his head slightly. “Shall I carry you home if you can’t walk?” His offer caught me off guard, and pride flared within me. “Thank you, Your Majesty, but I can manage on my own.” I forced myself to stand, but my legs wobbled, numbed from the cold and the strain. Flint raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “You don’t look fit to walk.” He watched as I limped forward, trying to prove otherwise. But the moment I put weight on my sore ankle, a sharp pain tore through me, and I hissed, losing my balance. Before I could hit the ground, Flint’s arm shot out, catching me with ease. He shook his head, muttering under his breath, “Stubborn.” Then, without another word, he scooped me up effortlessly into his arms, cradling me like a bride. My heart raced at the sudden closeness, and I couldn’t quite tell if it was from the pain or the warmth of his touch. His body heat melted the cold that had seeped into my bones, and his scent—citrusy with a hint of woodsmoke—made my head swim. His chest felt solid and unyielding beneath my cheek, so different from the chill of the night air. “I don’t understand why you were wiggling so much,” he remarked, his tone as flat as ever. “You’re hurt. Just stay still.” “It’s... it’s just the first time I’ve moved in a while,” I mumbled, trying to justify the nervous tremor in my voice. He simply huffed, as if he found my explanation amusing in some quiet way. This man is impossible to read. My curiosity finally got the better of me. “Why is Your Highness wandering the forest at night?” He glanced down at me, and our eyes met. Heat rushed to my cheeks. “Are you sure you want me to answer that, Miss Jones?” His voice held a teasing edge that made my stomach flip. Swallowing my embarrassment, I nodded. “Yes, I would. And I’ll answer your questions too.” A shadow passed over his face, and his grip tightened almost imperceptibly. “I was patrolling the area as part of my duties when I found you.” The memory of the rogues returned, and fear flickered through me again. I took a steadying breath. “I... I escaped some assassins who broke into the house. I barely got away.” Flint’s entire demeanor shifted, his body going rigid. He kept his eyes fixed on the path ahead, but his jaw clenched. “Assassins?” I nodded, trying to suppress the shiver that ran through me at the memory. “Your turn,” I said, tilting my head to study his chiseled features, the way his eyes seemed to search the darkness. He didn’t speak for a long moment. Finally, he asked, “Where’s your address? I’ll take you there.” The forest began to thin, revealing a quiet, empty road. I gave him Veronica’s address, glancing at his face as he took it in. “Is it because you’re a vampire that you crossed the deep woods so quickly?” I asked, genuinely curious. He turned his head slightly, giving me a sidelong look. “Not just vampires, Miss Jones. We shifters have our own superhuman speed.” Veronica’s house came into view, lights glowing softly in the distance. Flint’s brow furrowed slightly as he asked, “Why stay with her when you have your own estate?” His question caught me off guard—he was never one for small talk, and this sudden curiosity felt oddly personal. I hesitated, but before I could decide how to answer, he added, “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” “Fiona! Where have you been?” Veronica’s voice cut through the night as she ran towards us, relief and worry etched into her face. Her eyes widened when she saw Flint holding me so close. I forced a smile, trying to reassure her. “I’m fine. Really. I can walk from here.” Flint lowered me gently, his hands lingering on my arms as if afraid I’d collapse again. “Take care, Miss Jones,” he said softly before stepping back. Veronica immediately came to my side, slipping her arm under mine for support. I sighed, half irritated, half grateful. “Please, I can stand on my own for a moment.” Reluctantly, she let go, and I took a shaky step forward. “What happened?” she asked, her voice trembling with concern. I glanced back at the house, the memory of my narrow escape still vivid. “There were assassins... I tried to wake you, but you were under some kind of spell.” Her mouth dropped open, shock and fear clouding her features. “But we have protective wards around the house! How did they get through?” Flint’s voice cut in, low and thoughtful. “These weren’t ordinary attackers. They must be high-level magic users.” Veronica looked from me to Flint, worry etched on her face. “How did you get away?” I pointed back toward the window I had escaped from. “I ran. But they kept tracking me... until I put on your coat. It masked my scent enough to throw them off.” Flint stepped closer, his gaze catching on the necklace around my neck. His fingers brushed against the stone, making me shiver. “Who gave you this?” he asked, his voice softer. “Do you know what it is?” I hesitated, feeling a nervous flutter in my chest at his nearness. “It was a gift from my parents. I never knew it had any significance.” He studied the stone for a moment, his expression unusually gentle. “This is a Prostasia stone, a rare magic gem. It must have shielded you from greater harm. A gift like this... is not given lightly.” For the first time in a while, I saw something soften in his gaze, and my heart ached with questions I didn’t dare voice.
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