TITLE: Capturing the Last Welsh Witch
GENRE: Adult Romance
Ella blinked awake as a blast of frigid air caressed her skin, and in the distance, she could hear trickling water. Icy-fear snaked its way into her mind as she jerked her chin off the mushy grass and peered at the world from the ground. She was lying semi-prone on the cold, damp earth with grass stuck to her lips. The day usually began in a warm bed, and Aidan was there. Instead frosty kisses from the early-morning breeze touched her, mostly naked body, and she shivered. She lifted a shaky hand to her head, and groaned as an image of a hysterical and angry Aidan, flashed through her head.
“What the hell happened?” She whispered to the wind as if it may answer.
Ella pushed herself off the grass, but her limbs buckled, and a wave of dizziness
took over threatening to send her crashing to the ground. Searching around, she grabbed onto the nearest tree for support as she vomited. Some of the dizziness lifted, and she wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. The gurgle of water caught her attention, and she turned her head. A couple of feet away was a small sliver of a stream.
Have I changed?
She staggered towards the water on shaky legs. None of this made sense. Ella was usually prepared, but she was in the middle of a forest with no recollection as to how or why? Each step made her curse, as a pain shot through her chest and limbs. Breathing increased the agony. It was as if she had fought in a great battle and lost. Her head throbbed and white stars danced before her.
Just get to the water and drink.
Ella pushed herself forward to the edge of the stream, but her legs gave way and she sank to her knees. Leaning over, she stared at her reflection in the water.
“What a mess,” she gasped. She moved her jaw, and lifted her hand to examine her face.
Her fingers traced the outline of a large, black bruise on her cheek. Dried blood had congealed by her nose, and her hair was a wild mass. One eye was so swollen it was barely open, and although unrecognizable from the bruises and swelling, familiar blue eyes stared at her. She was still Ella Masters.
Despite looking battered, and like she’d been raised by wolves, she wasn’t dead. At least not yet. Sitting back of her haunches, she glanced down, and followed a succession of bruises on her arm that resembled finger prints. Running her hand over them an ugly memory roared to life.
His face loomed into view. Sharp blue irises, like the deepest ocean glinted silver as they gazed at her. There was no warmth in his expression, his lips were pulled into a narrow line, and he gripped her wrists so tightly they stung. Ella twisted and pulled at them, but he wasn’t letting her go. A cry escaped her lips. “Aidan.