28. Aemon
28
B arely restrained rage courses through my veins, and I am on fire. Thought and reason are all but whispers, beneath the cacophony that is the voice in my head chanting: kill him, kill him, kill him . The tether on my temper is razor thin. The only thing keeping me in check right now is the thought that they might take me away if I get into a fight. Then she’d really be alone, and that might drive me insane.
I clench and unclench my fists.
I’m going to knock those ugly teeth down his throat.
Clench; unclench.
Then I’m going to break every single finger that touched her skin.
Clench; unclench.
Maybe I’ll smash his kneecaps in too, just for fun.
Clench; unclench .
“This is your last warning.” I barely get the words out, my throat swollen from the effort of restraining myself. “Get. Your. Hands. Off. Her. Now.”
He smiles.
This man must be suicidal because he just smiles up at me with his nasty black teeth, like this is some fucking game. I’m barely keeping a leash on the monster, and this idiot is going to taunt me?
Time’s up.
I grab him by the flimsy bit of hair on his scalp and wrench it back so hard, half of it comes off in my fist. He screams, hands going for his head, and releases Katya. I don’t let go. Instead, I drag him across the rocky ground, kicking and screaming, dirty fingernails raking at my hands. Once we’re far enough away from Katya that I know she’s safe, I drop him in the dirt and back away. One kick to the stomach and this would all be over, but I give him a chance to get up and face me.
It’s so much more fun that way.
He pushes to his feet, glaring at me the entire way. Blood rains down his forehead and into his eyes, giving him the appearance of something far more sinister than he truly is. “You’re going to die for that, pretty-boy,” he says, reaching for his boot.
It’s a truly pitiful attempt at stealth, and I’d probably laugh in his face if I wasn’t on the verge of killing him. Instead, I crouch and spin, sweeping the leg out from under him before his fingers even brush the leather. He falls hard, head smacking the ground with a thump. This time, I don’t wait for him to stand. I grab the bastard by what’s left of his hair and pull him to his feet. He’s bleeding and disoriented, but that doesn’t stop him from trying to take a swing at me. I angle away from his punch, take hold of his wrist and twist until the fucker drops to his knees, his arm slowly pulling free of its socket.
“Please,” he cries, like that’s going to actually do something. I give his arm a little jerk, and he yelps from the pain.
Leaning close to his ear, I whisper, “You touched what’s mine. You forfeit any right to mercy.” Then I give his arm a final twist, smiling to myself when I hear the telltale snap of bone breaking.
His scream is nothing short of pure agony.
It’s fucking beautiful.
It’s only then that I notice the crowd that’s gathered, both human and fae. Some faces twist in disgust, others in fear, many more alight with excitement—goes to show you what work like this does to people. But the only one I care about is Katya, because I just showed her the monster.
Is she going to be afraid of me now? Hate me? It would probably be best if she ran far away, but that’s the last thing I want her to do. I release the sobbing wretch and turn around slowly, gearing myself up for whatever reaction she gives me.
She’s still seated on the ground, wide eyes staring up at me—in awe or shock, I can’t fucking tell. “Katya—” I begin, but what do I say? Oops, got a little carried away?
Using the wall for support, she pushes to her feet, and I start forward, meaning to help her but think better of it and wait to see what she does. She stumbles toward me, eyes locked with mine. I reach out to her, a silent offer of help, but she ignores my hands, taking those last few steps separating us on her own, then throws her arms around my neck.
She presses her cheek against my chest and with a voice so soft I can hardly hear it, she says, “Thank you.”
I slip my hands around her and pull her tighter against me. Her body is warm and soft and fits perfectly against mine. I bury my face in her soft hair, marveling at how, even after all of this, it still smells faintly of strawberries.