Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
SUMMER
Light from overhead banishes the darkness, and the man trying to rape me pauses, whirling around and allowing me to view a sight I will cherish close to my heart until long after I’m dead.
Kage.
Without a mask.
My concussed brain wants to marvel at the avenging angel standing before us, donned in jeans and a black sweatshirt, the hood pulled up and framing his devastatingly beautiful face. The image is far better than I ever could’ve imagined, and with a small, timid whimper, I reach for him.
His lips are full and carved, his cheekbones high and cheeks hollow, chin and jaw cut and strong, and eyes as damning as Lucifer’s, glowing gold in his rage.
Why would he hide such a devastatingly beautiful face from me?
My mind pouts, unable to keep hold of my fear now that my savior stands before us.
The man chuckles and stands, leaving me cold and limp on the floor as I waver in between planes of consciousness. Kage stands a whole head taller than him, a vicious sneer on his perfect lips. “You didn’t think you could hide pussy like that forever, did you? Still so tight I can’t cram it in.”
Kage’s nostrils are flared, the right side ticking in fury. It’s then, as my eyes drop, that I notice something horrific marring his perfect, bronze skin.
Scars. All across his throat. Puckered, shiny flesh that healed with haphazard, visible stitch marks, as though he patched himself up.
Tears flow from my eyes, but this time, it’s because I am seeing why he can’t speak…
and why he always hid from me. Maybe it’s the blood pounding in my brain and leaking from my ripped flesh, but all I want to do is hold him, a broken man with a mysterious past and a kind heart despite his wrongdoings.
Kage takes a lethal step forward, and it’s then I notice the long, deadly, rusted crowbar hanging from his hand.
A fresh wave of nausea causes me to gag as I press my fingers over my pursed lips, a horrifying reality hitting me harder than the attacker; they’re going to fight, and I don’t think they intend to let the other live.
Whatever I’m about to witness…it will haunt me for the rest of my life.
My attacker shoves his pathetic little dick back into his pants and pulls a long, serrated knife from a sheath attached to his belt, the metal glinting in my direction.
“I’ll do what your father should’ve done the day you cried like a bitch over your whore mother, boy.
If you were mine, I woulda slit your throat to the bone.
No son of mine would show such weakness. ”
Kage’s face morphs into something utterly demonic, and it makes me ponder the existence of another realm not so far from ours; if angels and demons and gods exist, he is all of those wrapped into one, and I never want to be on the receiving end of his wrath.
With a shake of his head, the corner of Kage’s mouth lifts in a mordacious smile, my heart clenching at the sight.
He’s not afraid, which is great, because I think I’m terrified enough for the both of us.
He raises the crowbar slightly—and my attacker lunges for his midsection, the tip of the knife just barely grazing Kage’s hoodie as he jumps to the side.
My eyes ache, trying to keep pace with their quick movements, the pounding in my head reaching new heights.
Lurching to the side, I retch up yellow, sticky bile, unable to fully focus on the blood-smeared floor as I groan and the noises of a death-match rage behind me.
Instinct drives me to pull away from the melee, and I plant my palms on the floor, arms shaking like twigs in a tornado.
There’s a workbench I can shelter under, but I can’t pull my body weight forward, the world tilting and spinning around me.
A bony hand wraps around my ankle and yanks, forcing me to fall with a loud exhalation and subsequent whimper. The stench of the man makes me vomit again as he climbs over me, nudging my thighs apart with his knee—the cool kiss of his dangerous knife pressing against my clit.
The room stills, only Kage’s labored panting and the pounding of my heart sounding in the basement.
My eyes find his, and blood drips from his nose, running down his chin and splattering on the floor.
He’s…scared. And when I look down and see the threat between my legs, I understand why.
Lip wobbling, my tear-filled eyes bounce back up to his, and I silently plead with the man who kidnapped me to now become my savior.
“You won’t be needing this, kitty. Women don’t need pleasure to be bred. Think we’ll get two or three outta ya before—”
But his words are cut off. Hot, sticky blood splatters across my face. The knife falls with a clang between my legs. The man, shocked, turns his face to me.
Only, half of his face is caved in, his skull irreparably dented, bits of flesh dangling around shiny skull and gray brain.
Kage reels back again, raising the crowbar with both hands above his head and slamming it down onto bone and viscera.
Blood spurts from the new wound as he collapses in my lap, and all I can do is watch in shock and horror as Kage grips him by the back of the shirt and hauls him away from me…
Only to pound his brain into the concrete over and over and over, beating the dead body of the man who touched me until he’s nothing but pulverized scalp, until what was once a round head is now a cracked eggshell, spilling its contents to the ground below.
Kage stands above the decimated man, shoulders and chest heaving with exertion.
When his eyes find mine, he drops the weapon, his face a canvas smeared with crimson, his eyes glowing with the remnants of his white hot fury.
Gritting his teeth, he angles his body toward mine, and takes a step forward.
Whimpering, I shuffle back, slipping in my own blood, terrified of what I’ve just witnessed and what was about to happen to me. In the silence that follows, my panic attack is allowed to take root, and I press my shaky fingers to my lips as my chest burns and my breath comes in sharp gasps.
Slowly, Kage crouches a few feet from me, careful not to come any closer but making himself appear smaller for my benefit.
I can’t look him in the eye. Can’t make sense of what I’m supposed to think or feel right now.
He reaches out to me, palm up, fingers relaxed, congealing blood beginning to crack along the lines of his tanned hand.
I shake my head and choke on a sob. I don’t know if I want him. He put me in this situation, and yet all I want is for him to hold me. I don’t know why. I shouldn’t want that after what he just did, even if it was to save me.
My eyes skirt around his impending frame, searching for the horrors I know I’ll find behind him, but he stands and cuts off my view, coming closer to bend down and tenderly cup my chin.
Eyes fluttering, my panic ebbs at his gentle touch, and I find his gaze.
He’s guarded, but when I don’t push him away, his other hand moves to cup my swollen cheek, head tilting to the side to study me, to ensure I’m intact.
A fresh wave of tears chokes me, a sob wrenched from the pits of my weary, broken soul. He doesn’t hesitate when he hears my cry, pulling me to his chest, tucking me into the safety of his warmth and strong embrace.
So I cling to him and weep, knowing that the worst is yet to come.