Pain came first.
A dull ache behind her eyes that warred with the stabbing pain spreading through every limb, making her groan,
The sound was rough in her own ears, muffled by the damp earth pressing cold against her cheek.
Ugh, wine. Too much of it. Combined, apparently, with... falling? Hard.
She breath slowly, the air smelled different, richer, and unfamiliar. Like turned over loamy soil smell that accompanies the first shower of rain.
Distantly she heard wolves howling, a low, mournful chorus that vibrate and shiver down her bones. Making the hair stand all over her body, they sounded wilder than she had ever heard before.
A damned welcoming committee. Not good.
Picking her herself up felt like lifting seventy pounds of lead in weights. Her head swam, the world tilting on it's axis.Her palms sinking back into cool mud as she felled back into it, mud splattering all over her.
Note to self: haunted antique shops and cheap Merlots do not mix.
The last she remembered was Bree's alcohol fueled dare...the glint of the mirror, her own tipsy reflection... and then cold. A terrifying pull, then pain, searing all over her body, As if she was being remade.
A glance down confirmed things had gone spectacularly sideways. Her expensize silk dress was shredded, stained, clinging like wet tissue. Mud 1, Silk 0. Panic, cold and sharp, began to cut through the alcoholic haze. Where on Earth was she...?
Okay, Layla, focus. Where are you? How do you get back? And where were the girls?
She slowly stood upright, shoving tangled, damp hair from her face, and turned, scanning her environment.
Scary forest, check, tall trees jutting from the ground like fangs reaching for the star infested indigo hued sky,check. Silhouettes of mountains in the distance . Check.
Then she turned, saw him and forgot to breath.
Okay. Definitely not the back alley of Kira's shop.
Because Looming between her and a castle straight out of a dark, twisted fairytale stood a figure, forged from the prehistoric dna of Adam.
"Sweet fudge pockets," She gulped, wiping drool from from the corner of her lips, smearing more mud.
His hair was a mass of ink, wild and untamed. A face that would have granted him GQ status on Earth, perfect, checkbones that look sharp enough to slice air into two. Lips that were full and red with a slight scar running from cheek to upper lip, which made him sizzling hot . A straight nose, proud and noble.
And God, he was huge. Built like... like he wrestles bears for fun. Dressed in supple leathers, dark as sin, Gold glinting on the hilt of a longsword, and scuffed boots.
And he was staring.
Oh, he was staring.
Like she was a three-course meal he hadn't realized he'd ordered.
She saw it then; mirrored in the molten depths of his reflective golden gaze was something she'd never seen before.
Not even with makeup, A new her-different, but undeniably her.
Her skin, glowed like sunlit honey, smooth and radiant, Lips that were full and red like raspberries. Lucious hair, dark as mahogany, wild and free, falling in untamed waves down her back.
Her eyes were a dazzling green before, but now they blaze like dark emeralds, shaped wide, currently looking uncertain, disbelief widening them more.
Framed by long lashes that fan out with every blink. Eye brows that were slanted like poetry.
And a body that had grown curves in all the right places. A woman carved from a dark fairytale.
His eyes, molten gold, intense enough to burn ,raked over her, slow and deliberate, possessively. Something about it made her hot and pissed at the same time.
"Seriously?" The words rasped out, her voice shaky but dripping with sarcasm she couldn't quite contain.
"Enjoying the view, big guy? Didn't you get the memo? Mud-splattered damsel is so last century." She tried for a confident stance and failed, wobbling slightly. Grimacing at the sharp pain that shot down her ankle.
He didn't react, didn't blink. Just... watched her. The intensity deepened, if that was even possible. He took a step forward. Slow. Predatory.
"Whoa there, Fangorn!" She snapped, holding up a hand, trembling palm facing out.
"Personal space, alright? Five-feet rule. Especially for guys built like... well, you." She took a clumsy step back, sucking in a breath as stabbing pain shot ankle hurt more in protest.
"Look, I don't know what kind of Larping convention I stumbled into, but the portal fantasy vibe is a little much, even for me.
Just point me to the nearest exit, preferably one without the ominous wolf kumbaya."
He kept coming, ignoring her words entirely. Each step radiated power, a silent, overwhelming assertion of dominance.
The air grew thick with it, heavy with his scent - pine, earth, wild musk and something uniquely, disturbingly his.
Mine.
The thought slammed into her skull, alien and absolute, resonating like a struck gong. It wasn't her own. It felt... imprinted onto the air itself.
His sculped lips finally moved. voice a low growl, a gravelly vibration that sent shivers down her spine - and not the good kind.
"Mine."
One word. Uttered like law.
Layla started, momentarily speechless. Then, outrage surged past the fear and the headache.
"Excuse me? Mine? Did you hit your head? Or are your nouns usually this possessive, ?" She gestured vaguely at the imposing forest.
"Look, pal, I appreciate the... enthusiasm? But I'm nobody's 'mine'. I'm Layla. Currently lost, probably concussed, definitely hungovered and seriously regretting that last bottle of wine."
"Now, if you'll excuse me-"
She tried to turn, to limp away, anywhere but here.
He closed the distance in a silent, terrifying rush. Before she could manage more than a startled yelp, his hand clamped around her arm. Not rough, not yet, but inescapable. Like steel wrapped in leather.
"Hey!" she cried out, trying to yank free. It was futile. "Get your- your ridiculously oversized, furry paws off me!"
She twisted, struggling and clawing, adrenaline and fear momentarily overriding the pain. "I said BACK OFF!"
He simply tightened his grip, effortlessly halting her struggles. And then his other arm snaked around her ass, lifting her clean off her feet before she could even think to kick out.
Her gasp was crushed against a chest that felt like solid rock beneath the layers of leather.
"Let me GO!" she shrieked at the top of her lungs, hands beating a frantic, hammering cadence uselessly against his massive chest, squirming .
"You psycho! Put me DOWN!"
He adjusted his hold, securing her firmly against him as if she were no more than a mischevious kitten. He bent his head into her hair, his breath warm against her ear, that wild scent filling her senses.
"Mine," he growled again, the sound deeper this time, vibrating through her bones, carrying the weight of absolute certainty.
"Fated. Crowned."
Each word was a hammer blow against her struggling, terrified heart. Crowned? Fated?
Was he completely insane?
This wasn't a rescue. This wasn't some charming fairytale boy meet girl, cute and innocent.
"I will make sure your ass rot's in jail, I will make sure you never see the light of day," she screamed. His lips smirked at that.
No, this was abduction,pure and terrifying. By a beautiful, possibly delusional Warlord of ...Wherever-the-Hell-this- Larping convention Was .
He strode toward the dark maw of the forest, carrying her as easily as a trophy. The wolves howled again, closer now, and he howled right back, celebrating his prize. an eerie chorus ensued.
He might think he'd found his destined queen, some meek little beauty for his savage kingdom.
Layla grit her teeth, eyes narrowing in fury, the struggle momentarily paused as cold calculation replaced blind panic. Oh, he had no idea who he'd just grabbed.
This Beauty wasn't just going to bite.
She was going to chew him up and spit him out.
Or die trying. She thought, and promptly fainted.