Biting down as hard as I can, I sink my teeth into the arm that’s trying to choke me, tearing through skin and feeling him stiffen as he roars in pain.
He drops me, but the other one still has my legs. I hit the concrete hard, teeth clacking together painfully before it turns to black.
Chapter Two
In which we meet a Scottish White Knight.
Cormac…
“When did we consider this a good time?”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, ya big fuckin’ crybaby. Look at this! All the hot women, the music? Normal people having fun?” My brother Cameron is grinning, but that likely has more to do with sucking down his fourth glass of cheap scotch than enjoying this sweaty, thrashing knot of partygoers.
“We’re not normal people,” I remind him. We’re standing on one of the risers in the VIP tent, looking out over the crowd.
“It wouldn’t kill you to try to act like one upon occasion,” he mumbles into his next glass of scotch.
Cameron’s likely not wrong, but I wouldn’t know how to act “normal.” Regular folk tend to be uncomfortable around me. Even waiting in line for a coffee, I’ll see heads turn and people step away from me. The blood I’ve shed and the bodies I’ve piled up have left some kind of a psychic stain on me, something others must sense when they edge away.
I’m not sorry for a single death I’ve caused. Not one.
“Aw, shite, someone’s throwing punches already?” Cameron complains.
Sure enough, the bodies in the pit turn into a tidal wave of idiots in seconds, surging over the dancers on the periphery and I sigh.
“Bleedin’ idiots.”
There’s a scuffle on the edge of the crowd closest to us; a girl’s knocked over by the tidal wave of assholes, but she’s kept her wits, she’s rolling free from the flailing arms and legs. A man seizes her arm and my eyes narrow. He’s not trying to help her up. He’s swinging her violently, keeping her off balance and I nod approvingly as her elbow shoots up, clocking him hard on the cheekbone.
“Are you seeing this?” I ask Cameron, “That bastard’s trying to drag her away.”
“Where?” He’s searching the crowd, trying to spot the struggle.
A second man joins the first, grabbing the girl’s legs and she’s kicking violently as the crowd swallows them up.
Leaping off the dais, I shove through the yelling, staggering bodies, trying to focus on where I saw her fall. There she is, her shorts a bright flash of pink in the pushing, thrashing horde. She’s still fighting, the brave little thing, her teeth buried in the bleeding bicep of one of the men. He’s yanking his gore-covered arm away roaring in pain, the fuckin’ jessie, the wimp, and drops her on her head.
Grabbing him by his shirt, I bash his skull into a nearby lamp post and he drops like a bag of dirt as I go after the other one, who’s still trying to drag her off. His eyes widen as he sees me, my fists clenched as I stride toward them and the idiot drops her feet and stumbles, trying to chuckle as he gains his footing.
“Whoops.”
I hit him on the left side of his face, enough to shatter his cheekbone and knock him unconscious. After shoving his prone form out of the way with my foot, I cradle the girl’s head carefully, looking for injuries. Her silly glitter wig falls off, and auburn curls tumble free.
“Is she bad off?” Cameron may be tanked up, but he’s already behind me, shoving back stragglers.
“She’s unconscious,” I said grimly, “let’s get her to Doc Meyers.”
“What, are ya’ serious? You’re just going to walk off with some stranger? Let me find a paramedic, they should have one around here,” he offers.
“They tried totakeher,” I say sharply. “Rape. Trafficking maybe.”
Sliding my arms under her shoulders and knees, I lift her as gently as I can. She moans, eyes opening briefly, looking up at me.
“You’ll be okay,” I say, “I’ll keep you safe.”
Blinking at me for a moment, she tries to smile before lapsing into unconsciousness again.
“You could have just left her at the A&E, you know,” Cameron grins at me insolently. “This white knight act you’ve got going on is a little weird for you, brother.”
