Stolen by the Zandian (Zandian Brides 7)

As he speaks, the raindrops increase—now they are the size of eyeballs. The protective gear keeps me dry enough, but I feel the power of the water through the fabric, and the sheer amount of rain is blinding. “This way.” I point ahead. “Higher ground, and it’s rock. Maybe we can find a cave.”

We scramble up the hill for what seems like forever, as the visibility worsens. “Faster,” urges Khrys.

I’m still out of breath from our run, and my energy flags. It’s all I can do to drag myself up the next part of the slope by grabbing a thick root and pulling, inch by excruciating inch.

“You got it.” Khrys grabs my hand to help.

Then the hail starts. At first, the individual crystals are tiny and thin like paper. Within seconds, they’ve grown bigger than my pinkie nail, each icy shard has sharp claws.

A particularly hard hail punctures my jacket and the skin on my arm, freeing red blood that immediately turns pink with dilution and runs to the ground. “The gear is not holding up! We need safety!” I gasp.

“Veck, this storm will kill us,” mutters Khrys. “I’ve never seen hail like this.” He pulls me to his body and shields my head with his arms, scanning our surroundings. “Come on, I think I see a cave.” He keeps me sheltered under his arm and guides me further up the slope. He was right—after a harrowing few moments, we’re nestled into a cavity in the rocks. The cave goes deep into the cliff and has a thick overhang at the entrance.

“Back here, away from the wind.” He pulls me further back into the cave to the dry dust out of reach of the swirling nightmare outside.

“Whew.” I collapse to the ground, breathing hard. The cave smells like dirt but nothing else; thankfully, we’re the only beings using it for shelter.

“We’re safe from the ice balls.” Khrys points. They’re now the size of my fist with wicked spikes. They slam into the ground and shatter into ice fragments, sometimes piercing an inch or two deep into the soil before breaking apart.

“Stars, this storm is more powerful than most weapons.” Khrys turns to me. “Are you hurt? Take off the jacket, so I can see.” He helps me peel off the garment. “The tunic, too. You’re soaked.”

The circumstances prevent me from any shyness; all I want is to be safe. Still, being half naked in front of him sets erotic images free in my mind. My nipples peak in the cold air, and my cheeks flush.

Khrys takes my arm. Now that we’re out of the downpour, the blood is more evident. “We need to wrap this.”

“It’s just a scratch. I can’t even feel pain.” I look with curiosity at the wound, then at him. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.” His voice is hoarse. I think he’s looking at my nipples, but then he turns away. “My skin is thicker than yours. The hail didn’t hurt me.” He removes his shoulder satchel. “I have a few emergency supplies.” He pulls out a cloth which he wraps around my cut. “There. That should close the wound.”

“Thank you.” I blink at the white wrap, trying to process what’s happening. How much has happened since the Kraa brought me to the auction.

The thunder roars and crackles, and the ground reverberates with the sound, the tremors going into my body and shaking my skull. “This storm is so violent.”

At the bottom of the hill, the dried grass turns to a churning river as water collects into a channel and hurtles past, tumbling boulders effortlessly. Hail shimmers like glass ornaments, bobbing by the thousands.

“That would kill us faster than the arrows.” I shudder from the sudden panic and the chill and the exhaustion. And the cold. I realize that the temperature has dropped.

“We’re high enough that we should stay above the water line. I hope,” he adds. He takes off his coat, reaches back into his pack and unwraps a silver heat blanket.

“Take off your clothes. All of them.” He looks at me through the dimness of the cave where the blanket catches what little light enters from the gloomy wilderness outside. “We need to let them dry. You humans are prone to hypothermia.”

“I…” It might be the shock of the situation, but I don’t move.

He drops the blanket and comes to my side. “Your breeches are soaked. They’ll prevent you from warming your core temperature.”

He grabs the sturdy material and tugs it down my wet hips. The fabric sticks, and when he inserts his strong hands between my thighs to coax the pants down, his knuckles brush up against my panties.

I suck in my breath. “Oh.”

He looks up at me, and his eyes flash. His horns stiffen. For a second, I think he’s going to touch me again, but he looks away and tugs my garment down, only stopping when they hit the top of my boots.

“The boots.” He laughs. “I forgot these.”

He swings me into his arms and suddenly deposits me on a flat boulder that’s at the height of his chest. “Sit here for a second, little warrior.”

He removes my boots and places them aside—and then the breeches are easy to slide off my ankles.

“Use this until I make a fire.” He wraps the silver thermoblanket around my shoulders and tucks it around my body. His hands linger just a moment as he arranges it, and he slides one hand softly over my thigh.