Instead, I feel as though I have a singular moth fluttering around in my skull, repeatedly smacking into a dimly lit lightbulb.
My stomach twists with anxiety.
Embarrassment heats my cheeks. “I... am afraid I can’t recall having arrived here.”
The female whose face is still puffy and splotchy is the first to reply. “You must have hit your head.”
Did I? I don’t feel anything.
I lift one hand to scrub across my impossibly empty head.
“Oh... I don’t feel any lumps or bruises.”
The heavily armed female smirks, muttering something I’m pretty sure is, “I can fix that.”
The male scowls at her.“Mareina.”
Before I can contemplate her misplaced hostility, out of thin fucking air, three towering and heavily muscled males appear behind her a small distance away.
The male beside me, who presumably rescued me from the river, curses as he directs his attention to his violent friend. “Go speak with them, please.”
She casts me one last glance before turning towards the three approaching males, gazes shifting from her to me—and morphing their demeanors entirely.
One of them has a crown resting on a head of somewhat shaggy brown hair and is dressed in fine clothing, though the sleeves are rolled up to reveal tattoos covering the length of his hands and forearms. Enormous bat-like wings protrude from his back. His expression–marred by a scar that runs over one brow, cheek, and cuts into his top lip—contorts into a scowl at the sight of me.
The male next to him wears a look of hostility that surpasses the armed female in front of him. Neatly groomed blonde hair, shorn close to his scalp. Shirtless, and dressed in only a pair of fighting leather trousers, scars pepper the length of his torso and arms.
Marginally taller, the male standing behind the both of them, is the only one who offers me something of a neutral expression though he examines me with wariness. Outside of his black hair and darker eyes, his features are so similar to the blonde in front of him, that it leads me to assume they must be closely related. Burn scars creep up the length of his throat and jaw, causing the tight smile he offers me to look sinister as they come to a halt in front of Mareina. “Azrael.”
Azrael...
Is that my name?
It doesn’t ring a singular bell.
Frustration and panic erupt inside me.Why am I so fucking lost?
Attempting to mask my inner turmoil, I manage a tight smile. “Hello.”
Who are you, how did I get here, and who the fuck am I?
The teary-eyed female presses a hand to my shoulder. “Look, there’s no easy way to say this but, that water you fell into–it erased your memories.”
I stare blankly at her for a moment before lifting my gaze to who I assume is her partner when he curls one arm protectively around her shoulders. He nods in assent.
What in the hellish fuck?
Despite my shock and disbelief, I have no argument, and there is no other possible explanation, but...
My eyes narrow. “You said I’d hit my head.”
She gives me an apologetic look. “I panicked.”
Frowning, distrust seeps into me. “And how exactly did I end up in this river?”
“I shoved you,” the female brazenly admits.
Tension tightens my muscles as my anxiety and distrust increases as I take a step back. “Why?”