Excerpt
Men, clad in yellow vests shouted over the din. She could not hear what they said, or if they even spoke her language. A whimper, felt more than heard, escaped her throat. Her palms warmed as she rubbed the stone vigorously.
“Bring me back,” she whispered. A loud repetitious rat-ta-tat joined the other sounds. “B-bring me back!”
She gasped as a man neared. He spoke into a hand-held box. If she could have screamed, she would have, but her mouth simply gaped open when a voice emitted from the box. Sorcery was at work here. Mayhap he was a sorcerer. Did sorcerers know each other? Of course they did. What dratted luck.
She stood up. “Many pardons, sir, but—”
“Holy shit! What the hell are you doing in here?”
“Help me.” The words spilled from her without a thought.
“Hey, George, give me a hand.” They both jumped at the voice from the magic box.
She clasped her hands behind her back.
The man was tall, and lean, his sinewy muscles defined with the slightest movement. His gray eyes did not stray from her face while he raised the box to his full lips. “Kinda tied up right now.”
Why would he say such a thing? And why did the mere thought make her smile? He leaned closer and she noticed a black smear on his cheek. She ached to wipe it away.
“How did you get in the hanger without one of these?” He tapped something attached to his vest by a metal clasp.
“I just…traveled.” She gulped. “To thy time. Do ye know Wren?”
“Who?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “You need to get out of here.”
Gods above, oddly enough, she could not think of anything worse than leaving this man’s side. She felt safe and comfortable. It made nay sense, but neither did the magic stone. Nevertheless, the attraction to him was undeniable.
Several others looked their way. Roars she assumed came from the armored birds shattered the air outside the large open doors. She must have traveled to a battle of sorts. The noise inside the armored building ebbed, until it was silent except for footsteps.
The men gathered around her. Some wore clear things over their eyes, almost like a faceplate on a helmet, but all eyes were focused on her. Mayhap this was hell. Did she have to service them all? Would she ever escape her whoring ways?
The man she’d first spoke to stepped forward, as if to shield her from the others, but he did not draw a weapon. Something about the way he pulled off his hat and wiped his brow made the fear ebb a bit. She was focused on the way his muscles flexed, and the sunlight from the open doors shining on his blond hair. But the kindness in his smoky eyes when they rested on her for just a moment truly made her breath pause, then rush to catch up to her heart.