Read Wilde's Fire (Darkness Falls #1) for Free Online

still fighting when, from all directions, burning arrows blaze through the dark sky. They hit the creatures by the hundreds, lighting them into brilliant, blue flames. But not before the disgusting things take Brad’s life.
    He lies motionless on the ground.
    The air fills with the smells of burning flesh and hair, the aroma so foul, it causes me to gag. I put my hand over my nose and mouth in an attempt to block out the awful stench.
    Fearing an arrow might find me as well, I crawl to him.
    “Brad?” I choke out when I reach his feet.
    He doesn’t respond.
    Tears fill my eyes. Throwing myself over his bleeding body, I allow his death to overwhelm me. I never told Brad I love him, too. I’m sure it’s not the same way he loves me, but I do love him. Now he’s dead, and will never know.
    I
will never know if I could’ve loved him the same way.
    Someone—or something—touches my shoulder.
    I scream.
    A hand clamps over my mouth.
    “Do not fear. We are here to help,” a man says, picking me up under my arms.
    Kicking and biting, I fight against him. No one can help me. I’ve killed my best friend and lost my sister. I shouldn’t be alive, shouldn’t be here—wherever
here
is.
    “I will not hurt you, but there are plenty of things around that will. Please stop fighting.”
    Giving in, I allow him to help me onto a horse.
    He drapes a blanket over my skin.
    Unconcerned with where I’m being taken, I slump over the horse’s back. The only thing I know is my heart is irreparably broken from the loss of my closest friend.
    Riding in the dark for what feels like hours, I drift in and out of consciousness. My tears have dried. I have no tears left to cry.
    We stop, and I’m eased from the horse by someone with gentle, warm hands. The man—whose wrinkled face I can now see—carries me like an infant.
    I fall limp in his arms.
    His face is hardened with concern, but he forces a smile when he catches me looking up at him. “You are going to be okay.”
    The man’s words send me into another hysterical fit of crying. Can anything be okay? Not after what just happened; nothing can. Not for me. I might not ever be okay again.
    He lays me in a bed, then pulls a blanket up to my chin.
    Trembling under the weight of the woolen covers, I cannot hold back the misery any longer. Howls erupt from deep in my chest.
    The man hangs his head.
    Something jabs into my arm.
    My muscles are unable to move.
    My eyelids are heavy.

come into consciousness for the first time in what feels like months, or even years. Inside, the searing pain and guilt of losing Brad rips a hole through my chest. I have no idea what I’m going to see, where I am, or why I’m still alive. I open my eyes, then blink a few times before they clear. The little room is dark; a few candles burn on an old table next to the bed. Sounds of people shuffling about and dishes clanging in a sink come from a room somewhere else, but no one is here with me.
    Surveying my surroundings—and judging by the clothes strewn about the floor—I assume I’m in a man’s bedroom. Fear controls my muscles, forcing me to slink out of the rustic poster bed. Someone has slipped a clean, white nightgown over my underclothes. Drawn in below my breasts and flowing to the floor, the gown reminds me of clothing from another time. If I wasn’t so afraid, I might be excited by how flattering the nightie is to my slight figure.
    I rummage through the drawers, the pants on the floor, and the hole in the dirt wall someone uses as a closet, hoping to find a weapon. I spot a small knife leaning against the wall behind a wooden chair made out of intricate tree limbs twisted together. The metal blade is so shiny it almost hums when what little light the candles offer bounces off it. Putting the knife to my ear, I hear faint sounds of people singing.
    I must still be experiencing the effects of the drugs they injected into my arm.
    The handle has a carving of those deadly, vile creatures on