Chapter 12 Dear Goddess
DEAR GODDESS
Torin came to a halt beside my throne, the tension in him sharp enough to register without the need to look at him. He believed himself at fault, that much was clear. The thought sat heavily on him, coiled tight behind discipline and duty.
“Tell me about the girl,” I said calmly.
The request was quiet, but it carried enough weight to make Torin grit his teeth. He inclined his head immediately, shoulders stiffening as though bracing for the consequences he expected to follow.
“She arrived alone, my lord,” he said.
“And claimed to have summoned a goblin… um… did she request assistance in undoing it?” I asked, and his jaw tightened before he answered,
“She did, but I didn’t take her at her word… not at first.”
“And then you did,” I said, not as a question but as a statement made.
“She knew enough to make it plausible, yes. Enough that I called Vor to determine whether there was truth to her claim and another presence hidden.”
Sensibly done, I thought, and I couldn’t fault him… not yet.
“And?” I prompted.
“And she slipped past him, whilst I was dealing with another matter,” Torin admitted, frustration bleeding through the restraint in his tone.
“She should not have been able to do that,” I said evenly.
“No, my lord,” Torin agreed before adding,
“Which is why I ordered her to be retrieved.”
I clenched my jaw at the thought and would have ordered not a single soul touch her when doing so.
Demands that would have been made absolute, along with the command to have her brought straight to me, had I the time to do so.
However, I never got the chance, as the situation shifted ahead of us, and those orders evaporated the moment I heard it.
A sharp, muttered curse carried up to my throne, cutting through the music and shadow.
“Fuck.”
The word was spoken quietly, under her breath, rather than shouted. That was when I lifted my gaze. At the same time, I felt the subtle tightening of panic as she turned, clearly ready to bolt.
She wasn’t too far away, having made it to this private space of mine on the upper floor. She was half-turned, tension written into the tempting line of her body. For a fraction of a second, Torin followed my attention and gestured unnecessarily in her direction.
“That’s her,” he said.
As if I wouldn’t have known.
The moment my eyes settled on her, everything else ceased to matter. Ceased to exist. In fact, the world could have fucking burned, and I doubt I would have noticed!
The dress confirmed it first. Black, gothic, threaded with symbols my mind recognized without conscious effort. Then the rest followed, swift and merciless, like a punch to the gut, stealing air from my lungs. The delicious and tantalizing curves of her body.
The way her hair fell straight around her face.
As if deliberately tamed, the honey-blonde was glossy beneath the lights, not softened by waves but controlled.
Restrained, even, as if she had forced it into order the same way she forced herself to stand still now.
There was nothing ornamental about her, nothing fragile, and yet everything about her felt painfully, dangerously alive.
And the way her weight shifted as though ready to run made the memory of our collision snap into place with brutal clarity once again.
And as for her face… I was fucking spellbound!
She was beautiful.
Torin had barely finished speaking when the situation ahead of us began to unravel. She had tried to turn back. Of course, she had. The instinct to flee was no doubt a powerful one, and she was no fool.
My gaze remained forward as Torin continued, his voice steady despite the edge beneath it.
“I have given my men the order to retrieve her, but it looks like she is about to resist.”
That didn’t surprise me.
I felt it as much as I heard it, the subtle shift of intent before the movement itself. She turned sharply, retreating the way she had come, and the air around her tightened as my men stepped into her path. Two of them at first, blocking her escape rather than advancing.
She hesitated just long enough to weigh up her limited options as
words were exchanged, asking her if she was going somewhere.
Something I thought was pretty fucking obvious, and I couldn’t understand why, but it grated on me to hear the way they mocked her urge to run.
Something she decided to do regardless of the obstacles in front of her.
Not exactly an escape attempt made with grace, but most definitely with urgency.
She bolted, a sudden burst of motion that sent chairs scraping across the floor as bodies shifted in surprise. A curse rang out, followed by the unmistakable flare of adrenaline, sharp enough that I could taste it on the air.
The girl then fought when she was caught, twisting instinctively, striking where she could rather than where she should.
Panic leading her erratic actions. One of Torin’s men managed to get hold of her then, his grip bruising, careless in its strength, and I instantly wanted to rip the fucker's hand off!
But in the shadow of my rage, I also felt her reaction like a wire snapping taut.
She did not freeze. She did not plead. She struck back without hesitation, landing the blow hard enough to make him release her with a roar of pain.
Action enough to earn herself but a breath of space, one that was fleeting at best.
It was only then that the situation tipped fully against her, as more of my men emerged, closing in with the patience of predators who knew the outcome was already decided.
The next mistake came too soon for me to stop it.
The man she had struck recovered quicker than expected, rage flashing hot and unrestrained as he stepped back into her path. I sensed the lift of his arm before he completed the motion, the violent intent behind it was unmistakable.
I saw fucking red!
I did not move from my throne.
I did not need to.
Despite how much I wanted to. How much I wanted to feel his death at my hands.
Wanted to feel his beating heart crushed in my palm for daring to try to hurt her.
But I knew, had I done so, then her first sight of me would have been something straight out of her nightmares.
It would have left an everlasting impression that I might never have had the power to eradicate.
She would have seen me as the monster I was, and not as the monster I intended to hide from her.
So instead, I administered my punishment without moving from my throne. This decision offered me two things. One, the swiftness of my violence and ensuring he never landed that blow, and the second, doing so under the guise of mercy, for I let the fucker live… for now.
Which meant that power answered my thoughts as it always did, swift and absolute.
Bone and flesh folded inward with a sickening inevitability, crushed and drawn back as though reality itself had decided his hand no longer deserved its shape.
The scream that followed tore through the club, violent and raw, silencing music and movement alike.
Everything stopped.
Fear surged outward in an uncontrollable wave. I felt her freeze as it washed over her, felt the horror take hold as she opened her eyes and took in the sight of him on his knees, clutching what remained of his mangled hand.
“No one…” I said calmly, before looking to Torin,
“…touches her.” My voice became a tone of law, and one my head of security knew to take very fucking seriously.
The man was writhing in pain, his punishment far from complete, as I felt his hand begin to reform under the magic woven into my domain.
Pain was a lesson best taught thoroughly, and he would know never to even look at this girl the wrong way again, let alone touch her.
That was… if I let him live beyond this night.
As for the girl, she was now being led away from the man, guided rather than restrained now, as Torin silently made his orders. Not that he would have needed to, as it was clear to everyone in this room what could happen should someone be foolish enough to try to touch her.
As she passed the one who had tried to harm her, I caught the quiet words she breathed under her breath, barely more than a reflex.
“Dear Goddess.”
Now that was interesting, as the phrase struck deeper than it should have.
Not ‘Jesus Christ’. Not ‘oh God’.
But Dear Goddess.
It was a small thing. Inconsequential, perhaps. And yet it lodged itself in my thoughts, another thread added to the growing tapestry of questions surrounding her. Mortals did not often choose their oaths so carefully, especially not in moments of shock.
One of the men escorting her laughed softly at her words, muttering something about holiness having no place here. He certainly wasn’t wrong there, and my poor little wide-eyed doe was starting to understand that for herself.
And soon, she would understand so much more.
For she had willingly snuck into the lion’s den, and I couldn’t wait to get her alone.
I couldn’t wait to spill her secrets and… devour her.
“Get moving!” The snap of this demand made me narrow my eyes dangerously at the next fucker with a death wish. One who only added to the offence at speaking to her like this when daring to fucking touch her!
I felt my fist near crush the obsidian and bone entwined beneath my palm.
Had she not been so close, I would have sickened her further by making another of my men know the agony of losing a hand.
Instead, I gestured to the side, telling him without words to release what was not his to touch.
As he would be another offender I would be dealing with once I had time to do so.
She must have been resisting, because as soon as he let her go, she stumbled forward instead, taking several unsteady steps before managing to right herself. She would have fallen into my arms had she not caught her balance, for I would not have allowed her to touch the ground.