Chapter 19 #2
I swallowed. “I—I wish I could say I was, but I do not wear jewels or carry coin like the noble seraphs of Tironaill. I am not wealthy nor important.” I held my hands out in front of me to show them I was bare of any jewelry.
The man with the scar cracked his knuckles. “Well, my pretty little thing, I think that’s simply untrue.” He took a step toward me.
I smoothed my panicked look as best I could.
“I must be getting back to my escort,” I lied, having to push the choking words out of my mouth with my drying tongue.
A sliver of knowing twisted along my spine.
I looked between each of them with hopes to see even a small show of apprehension in any of their faces.
I was met with the certainty of what they wanted as they traced the curves beneath my dress instead.
I flicked my eyes down to my discarded dagger and back to the aggression that was encasing me, step by step.
The brunette seraph looked at the dagger and smiled. “Oh, I think you are selling yourself short. You seem plenty important to that son of bitch commander, and that makes you valuable.”
I shook my head, but he still advanced toward me.
“I can’t be letting you leave here without a proper welcome from the lads and me.” Violent hands grabbed my shoulders and spun me around. I was positioned in the center of their group, large bodies towering over me.
The redhead stepped up to me and pressed his torso against mine. He grabbed the back of my hair and pulled, my face angling up to his. The fire I had buried beneath the mask of propriety blazed to life. Fuck. This. I spat, landing it in his eyes.
His grasp on my hair fell, and he stepped back from me. “Bitch!”
“Darra-“ The scream that left my throat was cut off when the young seraph flicked his wrist, rendering me voiceless. The seraph with the scar threw me to the ground with a thud, knocking the wind out of me. He was on top of me before I could even take a gasp of air.
I kicked. I thrashed. With his weight on top of me, I couldn’t take a full breath, and most of my body was pinned beneath him. He laughed. They all laughed.
With one free arm, I ran my hand over the forest floor. My palm met a cold rock. Without hesitation, I grasped it and, with all the fire I could muster behind it, hit the man with the scar on the side of his head.
“Oof!” His upper half was knocked to the side. I went to swing again, but a hand grabbed my wrist, pinning it to the ground. The young man pulled the rock from my grasp.
The seraph with the scar repositioned himself on top of me with a smile.
He pinned both my arms above my head in one of his hands, and he straddled my hips, holding me down.
“Oh, she has some fight in her, lads.” They all jeered.
The cool, damp ground cradling my body soaked through my dress, and above the predator holding me to the forest floor were three faces grinning down at me with salacious intent.
The man with the scar lowered his face to my ear. He smelled of sweat and burnt tobacco. “Now, now. Hold still. Let us just sample what the commander gets from his human whore on the regular.”
His free hand yanked my dress up, exposing my undergarments.
The chill on my exposed skin was nothing compared to the cold realization of what was about to happen to me.
Tears rolled down my temples as his hand ran up my leg and hooked his thumb under my panties, pulling them askew as I tried to wriggle my hips away.
His metal belt buckle jingled as he loosened it, and the other men cheered him on.
I stilled and stared up at the trees, willing a goddess, any goddess, to take me away from here.
A dark bird took off from a branch. The wind fluttered through the jeweled leaves.
My vision went hazy, and all sounds were muffled.
A disconnection with my body was the only way through this.
I flinched as an abrupt splatter of warmth hit my face, refocusing my attention on my surroundings.
The predator’s weight fell entirely on top of me, and his hand let go of my wrists.
Strips of darkness wrapped around him and yanked him off me.
His vacant stare was paired with an open mouth full of blood.
The tip of a silver dagger stuck out of his throat.
I looked down at my dress, covered in dark blood.
Move, Rory!
I scrambled, seated backwards against a tree. Metal crashed against metal, pulling my focus upward. The redhead and brunette swung swords at a dark-haired man of massive size.
Darragh.
The young seraph who took my voice ran off through the forest in the direction of the village, and I felt his enchant fall from my throat as he disappeared through the trees.
The redhead circled behind Darragh as the brunette thrusted his sword at him.
Darragh easily maneuvered to the side and punched him square on the nose, making the brunette fall to the ground.
The redhead raised his sword and approached Darragh’s back.
Ribbons of shadow grabbed the assailant's arm and squeezed.
His bone snapped, and he screamed. A shiny glow emanated from the redhead.
Darragh turned and plastered on a sinister smile.
Three shadows the size of tree branches plunged toward the redhead and connected with the shimmering barrier around him.
The glow dropped, and Darragh grabbed the redhead by the neck, lifting him in the air.
His feet dangled inches off the ground, and his eyes went wide before his chest burst open from the inside out, splattering gore all over Darragh.
He released the hollowed-out body to fall to the ground with a sickening thud.
The grim mix of blood and sinewy tissue with Darragh’s darkened expression showed me exactly why seraphs would be terrified of him. I watched in horror and awe, body trembling as I went into shock.
Darragh spun around. The brunette stumbled to his feet and threw a silver dagger at his head. I pulled in a breath. Darragh shifted to the side at the last second, and the dagger lodged into a tall pine tree behind him.
Shadows streamed from Darragh’s hands, wrapping the remaining man in a tight grip and pinning him to a tree.
The seraph gasped and choked as a shadow climbed his neck.
Darragh stalked toward the brunette, withdrawing a dagger from his hip.
His brows pulled tautly together, blood dripped from his face, and his lip curled. He was every bit of malice and revenge.
The brunette seraph went wide-eyed. A dark stain spread on the front of his trousers. “I’m s-s-s-sorry! It was never meant to go that far! Vic. He was the one who wanted to hurt her. I—I was dragged along and—”
Darragh violently grabbed his hair, thrusting his head upright.
A slash of a silver dagger across the brunette man’s throat, and blood poured down his front.
Darragh let go, and the predator’s head fell forward as his soul was sent to the Dullahan.
The shadows dropped, and the male fell to the ground, face down in the dirt and leaves.
I took shallow gasps, but nothing substantial filled my lungs. I. Can’t. Breath.
Darragh turned to my trembling and bloodied body, my hair sticking to my face, and fists clenched into the earth.
His expression softened, and he moved to my side in an instant, falling to his knees and cupping my face in his calloused hands.
The smell of iron from all the blood and the spice of cloves overwhelmed me.
“Rory,” he gently uttered. I couldn’t stop looking, wide-eyed and ashen-faced, between the three dead seraphs.
“Look at me, sweetheart.” My focus snapped to the chestnut eyes mere inches from my face.
A sunbeam filtering through the canopy above hit his eyes just right so that they glowed. “They can’t hurt you anymore.”
“You finally called me Rory,” I cried, and waves of tears poured down my face, sobs racking my body. My quaking hands grabbed his large forearms. His palms never left my face, even with my tears lacing paths through his fingers.
Darragh’s lips parted, eyebrows drawn together, and his eyes roved over my face.
“Are you injured? Is any of this blood yours?” The gentleness and concern he was exhibiting, after unleashing pure primal wrath on my attackers, shocked me as much as the dead bodies that lay strewn across the forest floor.
“N-no,” I managed to get out.
“Did he…?”
“Almost b-but you g-got here in time.”
He let out a breath.
“Darragh, I’m so sorry!” I wailed.
He shook his head. “What are you talking about?”
“I left the alcove to wash my hands in the stream. I didn’t listen. Again! It was my fault. I caused this!”
He shifted closer to my body and traced my cheekbone with his thumb.
The warmth from his calloused hands held a comfort I was not accustomed to.
“Now you listen to me, Rory Alwine.” His voice was firm but gentle.
“At no point is this your fault. It could never be your fault. You should be able to move freely in this world without being attacked. I am not angry with you. I was scared I wouldn’t get to you in time. ”