Ella
I couldn’t speak as I looked up into those familiar green eyes. Alexander smelled like his usual scent combined with fresh sweat and earth, but there was something else there, too—the coppery scent of dried blood.
Was he injured? Was I injured?
I didn’t have time to dwell on it before Liam, standing behind me and dusting the hay off his shirt, said, “What the hell happened?”
Alexander’s face, which had momentarily been a mask of shock and maybe even a hint of relief, hardened. He set me down. I was glad to find that my legs were indeed not broken; there wasn’t even a scratch on me.
“I was just wondering the same thing,” he said, glancing first at me, then at Liam, then up—toward the open hay door I had just fallen out of.
Liam opened his mouth to say something,
