“No. No. I didn’t—” I say, frantically trying to stop whatever this is from escalating any further.
He scrunches his face like a whining child. “Whaa, whaa, whaa. You didn’t mean to. Don’t lie to me, bitch.” He tugs me closer and shakes my head. “You know what I think?” he says, pulling my face so close to his I can smell the sour milk on his breath. “I think it’s ’bout time somebody fucked that attitude out of you.”
“Please.”
“Please. Whaa.” He makes the whiny face again, this time winding his fist next to his eye like he’s crying.
“Get your hands off of her.” Aemon’s deep voice booms from behind him, and I swear, I’ve never been so happy to hear his voice, or any voice for that matter, in my life.
The man turns around slowly, his expression flat. “Fuck off, pretty boy. Me and the lady are having a discussion.”
“That’s my lady you’re having a discussion with, and if you don’t get that hand off of her in the next three seconds, I’m going to break it.”
The first thing I notice is that he called me his lady, which gives me a little shot of excitement straight to the girly parts, but that’s soon eclipsed by the second thing I notice, just how still Aemon is right now. And I don’t mean still like a statue, I mean still like a jaguar about to pounce. In this moment, I get a glimpse of the predator lying in wait behind Aemon’s civil facade, and the only word I can come up with to describe it is beautiful. It’s as if his darkness is calling to mine, and a tremor, that has nothing to do with the pain in my neck or fear of what’s about to happen, ripples through my body.
And I want more.
28
Barely 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 twistuntil 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.
