Free Willing Sacrifice by Shannon K. Butcher Page A

wanting to stroke him. She had better things to think about than that. Sadly, she couldn’t remember a single one of them right now. Instead, all she could focus on was the subtle warming of her skin and the way her clothes suddenly felt too tight for her to breathe.
    “I’ll take you to the village, then come back and follow the trail,” he whispered close to her ear—close enough that she could feel the warmth of his words as they passed.
    She stifled a shiver. “No. It will take too much time.”
    “You can’t go back alone. It’s not safe.”
    “Then I guess I’ll have to stay with you.”
    He scowled at that and opened his mouth to argue with her, but a soft rustling came from the south.
    Before she could even register that there was danger, Torr shifted his body so that he was between her and the sound. With his free hand, he held her behind him, silently ordering her to stay put.
    The rustling grew louder, closer. Grace’s heart started pounding hard enough that she was sure it would bruise her ribs.
    These Hunters hadn’t seen her before. She’d stayed silent and they’d slipped by, parting the low brush as they passed. All she’d seen was a jagged series of shiny black ridges peeking over the foliage, glittering with filtered sunlight.
    Even though she hadn’t seen much, she’d
felt
them, as if they left a cold fog in their wake. She’d been chilled to the bone, even after running back to the village. Her instincts had screamed at her the whole way, demanding that she go faster.
    Do not look back.
    The words had sounded in her head as clearly as if someone had been running beside her. It could have been Brenya, who often summoned her with a voice like that, but it sounded different. Almost afraid. And Brenya was never afraid.
    Torr stepped away, his footfall silent on the leaf litter. As thick as the brush was here, he could disappear within only a few steps.
    The idea of being out here alone again with those things was too terrifying to even consider.
    She shifted her weight to follow Torr, and before she could take so much as a step, his head turned and he gave her a hard amber stare.
    Stay.
He mouthed the single word, and she froze in place, a strand of fear strumming inside her—one that had nothing to do with the Hunters in the woods. This was deeper, a part of her former self that she didn’t understand.
    Something had happened to her that had terrified her, and there were times when a single word or movement from someone else would set her off, making her want to cower under the covers like a child. Maybe that something was what had nearly killed her. No one seemed to know, or if they did, they weren’t telling her.
    So she was left to deal with her inconvenient moments of fright, never able to predict when another might strike.
    Torr slipped silently out of sight through the brush. Grace crouched to hide and make herself as small a target as possible. The action felt natural, as if she were used to cowering.
    That idea grated on her pride. She was the weakest person here, not including the infants and toddlers, but that didn’t mean she was weak-willed. She would be as strong as she needed to be. As brave as she needed to be. Whoever she’d been in her old life, she was no longer that person. She had been remade.
    She pulled the dagger from her belt. It was little more than a tool, meant for digging up roots and slicing off bark. But the blade was sharp, and her grip was firm.
    Seconds passed in painful silence, each one measured in frantic beats of her heart. The rustling sounded again, only this time farther away.
    She turned to face it and nearly stabbed Torr in his stomach.
    He grabbed her hand, lifting the dagger out of the way before it could make contact. The move pulled her hard against his front, forcing her to catch herself. Her left hand splayed over hot male flesh. She felt muscles along his chest shift against her palm as his arm came around her to steady her.
    She was