Violet didn’t know how long she’d been screaming, an hour or two? It felt like an eternity since Griffin, no, The Beast, had tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of flour and taken off.
They hadn’t just been running. He had been leaping from one treetop to another, over gorges, across cliffs and through clouds, for all she knew.
The world had become a blur of wind, roaring leaves, and nausea. It was just endless suffocating trees. So when he finally stopped, it took Violet a second to realize the blur had stopped.
He dropped her unceremoniously onto the ground and the moment her feet touched solid earth, Violet’s legs gave out with a dramatic tremble. Her knees hit the mossy forest floor, and she crawled weakly forward, only to hurl up whatever remained in her stomach. She gagged and retched until there was nothing left.
When it was over, Violet crawled away from the mess and collapsed on her back beside a smooth rock. The coolness of it felt so good. So she lay there for a long moment, trying to remember what air felt like in her lungs.
Above her, the sky was painted in hues of deep indigo and fading gold as the sun began to make its descent, bathing the clearing in amber light.
The scent of earth and moss was thick in the air, but just beyond, a spring poured from the side of a rock, cascading in a silvery curtain into a shallow pool. The small stream was clear and peaceful as it winded through the dense trees.
Not that Violet cared where they were anymore. She just wanted to breathe. But peace, of course, was short-lived.
The sound of heavy breathing came next, followed by a low snarl with the ground trembling slightly as "he" appeared.
And yes, Violet was talking about an eight feet massive being looming over her with that primal look in his eyes. His thick hair fell in disheveled waves down his back, and his arms bulged with animalistic power. He was a beast through and through.
The Beast bent low, sniffing her with exaggerated huffs like a predator scenting its territory. Violet didn’t even bother to flinch and just lay there, eyes half-lidded and emotionally bankrupt.
"Do your thing, buddy," she muttered. "Just don’t drool on me."
After a moment of very invasive sniffing, The Beast suddenly froze. His nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed into a frown of confusion. He growled low, as if he didn’t like her scent.
"Mate," he said, voice gravelly and guttural. "Smell wrong."
And then, absurdly, Violet started to laugh. At this point, it was either that or cry.
"Oh really? My smell offends you? You’re one to talk when your giant nose keeps blowing hot air to my face!" She flipped him the middle finger without even looking.
The Beast recoiled with a guttural snarl, lips curling back in visible offense.
"Mate. Bath."
His voice carried the weight of authority, like a child emperor commanding his kingdom. He gestured toward the waterfall with a pointed claw.
"Oh, for Christ’s sake!" Violet groaned. "Let me catch my freaking breath, will you?!"
Violet was tired. Her body was aching. She really needed a moment to process all that had happened so far.
But The Beast, impatient and completely tone-deaf to human emotion, began to pace, snarling under his breath. His steps
seemed to crack twigs and quake the earth, his frustration obvious.
But that movement gave Violet the opportunity to notice something she hadn’t until now.
"Oh dear God..." She gulped at the sight of The Beast down there.
Was he trying to drown her?!
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