As she lay there, her strength seemed to completely disappear. Her temples throbbed, the voices still attacking her. Closing her eyes, she pulled the edges of her jacket tight and managed to crawl to and huddle against the base of a tree.
We shouldn't be here. They see everything.
Are you hurt?
Look what I found! Isn't it pretty?
"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" she shouted. Of course, the voices didn't listen to her. They never did.
I dare you to run through the trees naked.
I'm hungry. Can I have something to eat?
Suddenly, there was a popping and whizzing sound, and her eyelids flew open. Next, there was a tortured scream. A man's scream, quickly followed by three others.
Present. Not past. After twenty-four years, she knew the difference.
Terror grabbed her tightly, squeezing the breath out of her. Even through the noise of the voices, she heard a sickening thud. She tried to stand, to run, but a sudden rush of air held her in place. No, not air, she realized a second later, but a blade. Her whole body jerked in surprise as the handle of a blood-covered knife swayed just above her shoulder, stuck in the tree bark.
Before she had time to scramble away, to scream, there was another whoosh. Another jerk. Xu Ling's attention swung to the other side. Sure enough, a second blade was stuck just above her left shoulder.
How - What - The thoughts hadn't fully formed when something burst from a nearby thicket. Dry leaves rustled loudly, and the snow that had covered them fell to the ground as branches slapped and shook. Then the something raced past a beam of moonlight, and she caught a glimpse of black hair and bright violet eyes. A man. A big, muscular man was running toward her very fast. His face looked completely brutal.
"Oh my god," she gasped. "Stop. Stop!"
Suddenly he was there, right in front of her. Crouching, holding her down, sniffing her neck. "They were Hunters," he said in Mandarin with a slight accent, his voice rough and harsh like his strong features. "Are you?" He grabbed her right wrist and pulled back the sleeve of her jacket and sweater. He ran his thumb over the pulse there. "No tattoo, like they had."
They? Hunters? Tattoo? A shiver ran down her spine. The intruder was huge, bulky, his muscular body surrounding her with threat. A metallic smell came from him, mixed with the scent of a man, heat, and something she couldn't identify.
Up close, she could see spots of red on his too-harsh face. Blood? The biting wind seemed to slip past her skin and into her bones.
Savage, the look in his violet eyes said. Predator.
Maybe I should have listened to Dr Lucas. Maybe the men really are demons.
"Are you one of them?" the man repeated.
Completely shocked, scared beyond belief, it took her a moment to realize something was...different. The air, the temperature, the -
The voices had stopped.
Her eyes widened in astonishment.
The voices had stopped, as if they were actually aware of the man's presence and were as afraid of him as she was. Silence surrounded her.
No. It wasn't complete silence, she decided a moment later, but rather... quiet. Wonderful, peaceful quiet. How long had it been since she had known such a thing, untouched by conversation? Had she ever?
Wind rustled, and leaves slapped together. Snow made a soft humming sound as it drifted through the air, a calm melody meant to soothe and relax. The trees seemed alive, their branches waving gently.
Had anything ever sounded as wonderful as nature's music?
In that moment, she forgot her fear. How could this man be controlled by a demon when he brought such lovely quiet? Demons were a source of suffering, not peace.
Was he an angel of mercy, then, as the locals thought?
Closing her eyes in delight, she took in that peace, enjoyed it. Embraced it.
"Woman?" the angel said, confusion in his voice.
"Hush." Contentment flowed through her. Even at home in North china, in a house where the construction workers had been told not to talk more than necessary, she always heard the echo of deep-rooted whispers. "Don't speak. Just enjoy."
For a moment, he didn't answer. "You dare tell me to hush?" he said finally, angry surprise in his tone.
"You're still talking," Xu Ling scolded, then pressed her lips together. Angel or not, he didn't seem like the kind of person she should tell off. Besides, making him angry was the last thing she wanted to do. His presence brought silence. And delicious warmth, she realized as the cold quickly left her body.
Slowly, she opened her eyelids a little.
They were nose to nose, his warm breath touching her lips. His skin glowed like smooth copper, almost unreal in the moonlight. His face had sharp angles and strong lines, with a sharp nose and eyebrows as black as night.
Those intense purple eyes stared into her, somehow even more threatening because of his long, dark eyelashes. I'll kill anyone, anywhere, his expression seemed to say.
Demon. No, not a demon, she reminded herself. The silence was too good, too pure and right. But he was not an angel either, she decided. He had brought the quiet, yes, but he was clearly as dangerous as he was beautiful. Anyone who could throw blades like that...
So what was he?
Xu Ling swallowed hard, studying him. Her heart shouldn't have fluttered just then, and her chest shouldn't have ached. But it did. They did. He was like the dragons in the fairy tales McIntosh had read her: too deadly to tame, too fascinating to walk away from.
And yet, she suddenly wanted to bury her head in the curve of his neck. Wanted to wrap her arms around him. Wanted to hold on to him and never let go. She even found herself leaning toward him, fully intending to give in to those desires.
Stop. Don't.
Most of her life, she had been denied human touch. At five, she had been sent to the Institute, where most of the employees hadn't cared about anything other than studying her ability. Dr Lucas was the closest thing she had ever had to a friend, but even he had not hugged or touched her often, as if he feared her as much as he cared for her.
Dating was also hard. Men kind of freaked out when they learned about her ability. And they always learned. There was no way to hide it. But...
If this man was who - what - she thought he was, he might not care about her little talent. He might let her touch him. And touching him and his heat might very well be as powerful a feeling as the silence, yet so much more -
"Woman?" he repeated, his voice now husky, rich like wine as it cut into her thoughts.
She froze. Swallowed hard again. Was that...desire flickering in his icy violet eyes, completely erasing that must-kill look? Or was the desire she saw born of pain and brutality, her death about to happen? A flood of emotions hit her: another wave of fear, a strange sense of awe, and yes, feminine curiosity. She had little experience with men, and even less with desire.
What had she been thinking, leaning toward him like that? He might have seen her touch as an invitation. Might have touched her in return.
Why didn't the mere thought send her into hysterics?
Perhaps because she might be wrong. Perhaps he wasn't a dragon after all, but the prince who fought the dragon to save the princess. "What's your name?" she found herself asking.
A tense second passed, then another, and she assumed he wouldn't answer. Lines of strain marked his rough features, as though being near her was unpleasant. Finally, he said, "Jiang Lang.