Protect (The Guardians Book 1)

by K. B. Wheelock

  “Don’t get up for me, my dear.” A nasally voice said. He sat down next to her, a hand firmly placed on her leg. She shivered in fear. This is not what she had planned. “You spent the past two nights teasing me. I think it is time for me to taste what you have been offering.” She looked towards the apartment. “Oh, he won’t be interrupting us. He has some business to attend to topside.” He moved closer to her and buried his face into her hair. “Just as I imagined, will the rest of you smell as sweet, will you taste like honey?” One hand grasped her wrists, the other roamed her body “Will you be the proper lady and hold your screams as I move in you?”

  She trembled in fear. It was not the first time over the last months that she had had unwanted attention. But then, she knew she was protected and that no harm would come to her. But Lord Azazerel put a fear into her that she had not felt since Lord Cullen had broken Thorin. His hands roamed over her, and she tried to kick him, but he just laughed and threw a leg over hers, pinning her down. Pressing his body against her, he roughly kissed her. She bit down on his tongue, drawing blood. He slapped her. “You’ll pay for that, you bitch,” he growled, pulling the leather cord from his waist. He flipped her over and the crack of the lash was heard. She screamed as lash after lash racked her body in pain.

  As blackness over took her, she heard the High Lord scream, “What is the meaning of this?”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  She woke laying on her stomach. A cool cloth over her back. She moved and pain seared through her making her hiss. Soft hands gently held her down. She turned her head, relaxing as she saw Adda. Behind Adda she could see the High Lord pacing. He looked up, “Adda, leave us.”

  He walked over to her and looked down in disgust. “Why did you do it? Why? I gave you everything? I should have listened. My father was right, women are all betrayers.” Not waiting for an answer, he walked from the room.

  Zera lay there, tears running down her cheeks. She tried to call out, but her voice would not come. She tried and tried to scream, to yell, to make any noise outside of air moving to and from her lungs. But nothing came out. Invisible arms held her as the smell of peppermint and maple syrup tickled her nose. Exhausted she fell into a restless sleep.

  You will get through this my Little Mouse. You are more than they reduce you to. Be strong. The words whispered through her dreams as she was held close, and strength poured into her.

  Not sure how long had passed, she woke to rough hands shaking her. Adda stood over her, eyes red from crying. She gently pulled Zera to the bathroom and pushed her to the pool. Zera stepped in and hissed as the water hit her back. This was the first time that she had been whipped and not had healing ointment applied to them, and she did not understand what was happening. Adda gently washed her hair and then went to the other side of the room and took the razor and tweezers from the shelf. Adda continued to bathe Zera, a ritual that relaxed her into a feeling of relative safety. Adda motioned for her to stand, and Zera obeyed. Strong arms grabbed her arms and held her secure, fear ran through Zera and she silently cried out in pain as her back hit a solid chest. Adda looked apologetically at her as she moved her legs and continued to scrape her skin and remove any hair. She then dried Zera and motioned to the stool near the mirror. Zera was set on the chair with a jolt that made her clench her teeth. She looked up to see Eulle grinning at her.

  Adda piled Zera’s hair up on her head, then applied the ritual perfumes. She brought over the white scarves of the slaves and Zera trembled in fear. The scarf was wrapped around her neck and crossed in front to cover her breasts, tying in the back. The other scarf wrapped around her waist tying at her hip. Once she was dressed, Adda stepped back. Eulle came over and pulled her to a stand and ushered her back to the bedroom. He sat her on the chair and stood next to her, crowding her space. She trembled in fear, not knowing what was going on or what to expect.

  What seemed like hours passed and finally the door to her room opened. A trio of guards accompanied the High Lord. Without looking at Zera he said, “It is time” and turned around. Eulle pulled Zera to a stand and pushed her before him. The High Lord turned and walked out of the apartment, trailed by two of the guards, then Zerra and Eulle and the last guard. They walked through the empty halls that normally were bustling with people. The High Lord stopped at the doors to the banquet room and paused, Zera trembled in fear.

  The doors were flung open, and she could see the crowded banquet room. She looked around, and it appeared that all the people in the compound were in the room. The tiered seats against the walls were filled, and the overflow of people stood crowded into every available space. The middle of the room was empty and the fire at the end of the hall heated the room so that sweat popped out on her skin as she was escorted to the front of the room. On one side stood Lord Azazarel, guards flanking him. The High Lord stopped in the center of the room and Eulle pushed Zera to the other side of the room. She looked around and could see many faces she recognized, but seeing Thorin in the crowd, a look of disdain on his face, broke her.

  The guards around the room hammered their spears on the floor, quieting the audience. “People. We are here for the trial and punishment of this man and woman. Both caught in the act of betrayal.” Zera was roughly pushed onto the table in front of the fireplace, made to face the people.

  We will start with the former high lady who attacked a man, biting the Lord Azarel and drawing blood. Both acts are against our tenants. A woman is never to physically harm a man. The Lord Azazarel in turn beat the former high lady, and she carries the marks from that.” Zera was roughly turned so that the people could see her back. The Lord Azazarel smirked at the murmur of approval from the crowd. “The question before the people, has the former Lady been sufficiently punished?”

  The crowd leaned forward, salivating at the idea of deciding her fate. Slowly, the people began to stomp their feet. The energy in the room mounting as their thirst for blood increased.

  The High Lord nodded at the people’s response. “The people have spoken. Eulle, tie her to the post.” Zera was roughly pulled down from the table and dragged to the pole that stood in the middle of the hall. Her arms were roughly pulled above her and secured to the ring at the top of the pole, her face pushed against the rough wood. Tears coursed down her face. Do not let them see you cry. My Little Mouse you can get through this. The scent of peppermint and maple syrup steadied her.

  “Next is the situation that caused Zera to be able to harm the Lord Azazarel. He took liberties without the permission of the High Lord. He may defend himself.”

  “High Lord, I am sorry for the harm I have done, but Zera asked for me. She invited me to dine with you and her. She spent the evenings teasing me, forcing me to watch as she fed you, as she ate beside you. Each night, she would ply us with drink, causing our blood to boil. You had release, but I did not.” The people pounded their feet, wordlessly demanding for blood.

  “The matter is not if your blood was raised, you had release available in the form of many women in the compound, your own mate being one of them. The matter is that you took that which was not yours, that which belonged to your High Lord.” Murmurs of agreement could be heard. Zera’s blood boiled at the injustice of her not being allowed a voice, to speak. But the pathetic worm who attacked her was allowed to defend himself.

  Looking to the gathering the High Lord asked. “You have heard his defense. Is he innocent of wrongdoing?” The people stood, stomping and pointing at the former advisor. With a look the High Lord said “It appears that they want your blood.” Two guards went to drag Lord Azazarel to the pole, he fought them, but their strength was more than he could take. He was attached to the pole his hands touching Zera’s. She flinched away, but could not move.

  The feeling of evil permeated the room. The High Lord held his hand out to the crowds, watching as they fed from the morsels he gave them, feeding their thirst for blood. A thirst that he carefully fed just often enough to give them release, but in a way, that ke
pt them under his control.

  “You have judged them guilty, now you must decide the punishment. Shall it be lashings?” He pointed as two guards stepped forward carrying cat o’ nine tails.

  “Shall it be burning?” Two guards stepped forward carrying lit torches, followed by slaves with bags of tinder.

  “Or a fight to the death?” The crowd surged to their feet stomping. “A fight it shall be.” Four guards walked into the center of the hall, and the glass walls came up, closing them in.

  Before the fight could begin a disturbance began in Lord Cullen’s section of the crowd. A man was pushing his way to the front. Fighting as hard as he could to reach the front. It was eerie seeing a man fighting as hard as he could, mouth open and closing in silent screams. Zera was just able to see the man and her heart beat faster as she recognized Thorin. She cried out as a guard hit him with the butt of his spear. Another guard grabbed him and dragged him to the High Lord.

  “What is the meaning of this?” The High Lord growled, his perfectly scripted scene being ruined by this slave. “You dare to interrupt these goings on? You’re a slave, worth nothing.” Thorin stood taller and looked the High Lord in the eye and nodded. Seeing Zera punished a second time for defending herself, for being attacked had finally awakened him from a sleep that he had not known he was in. He could not speak to defend, but he could stand for her.

  Spittle flew as the High Lord screamed, “You dare?” Taking a deep breath and calming himself, the High Lord turned to the people. “This slave has looked me in the eye, he has interrupted these proceedings. Should this be allowed?”

  The people stomped their feet.

  “No, then should he join them?”

  The stomping became faster and louder. The High Lord appeared to gain strength from the bloodlust that was taking over the crowd. “Guards, take him!”Thorin was grabbed and thrown into the arena with Zera, Lord Azazarel and 4 guards.

  “To make this a little more interesting, we will change the rules. The last one standing will then fight the guards.”

  The guards unhooked the prisoner’s hands from the rings and left the ring. As soon as the

  guards had left, Thorin hurled himself at Lord Azazarel. He managed to knock the Lord down, but the man was surprisingly spry, and he jumped up and stepped back. Thorin jumped and scraped his hands down his face. Lord Azazarel screamed and jumped into the air, transforming into a red beast, with lizard-like feet and red bat-like wings. Golden horns peeked from his hair.

  “You filthy human! How dare you touch me?” He took a deep breath, and a stream of fire charred the ground where Thorin had stood, but he had quickly jumped out of the way. Azazarel swooped down and grabbed Zera, she thrashed and kicked, upsetting the balance of the winged beast. But he held tight, his claws digging into her arms. He flew high and with a laugh dropped Zera. She fell on her back with a thud, her breath whooshing out of her. Pain prevented her from moving, but she could smell peppermint and maple syrup, and heard a voice urging her to move.

  Azazarel flew at Thorin and raked his back with the claws on his feet, toying with him. Thorin jumped at him and grabbed a hold of a scaled foot, holding tight as Azazarel flew high, kicking his other foot to dislodge Thorin. But Thorin clung on, slowly climbing up the leg he clung to. Azazarel swiped with a claw, removing Thorin’s ear. With a scream he fell to the ground below and lay still.

  Zera ran to him, tears running down her face. His breath came in short gasps and even though he could heal himself, the collar around his neck wouldn’t allow it. She pulled and pulled trying to remove it, rage making her heart pound. Suddenly, with inhuman strength, she broke the collar and Thorin’s breathing became fractionally easier.

  She leaned over him and kissed his lips as a scream tore through her, arching her back. Fire poured over her as she used her body to protect Thorin, a searing pain radiated from the mark that had been burned into her back, as white and gray speckled wings the length of her arms tore through her skin, a white light brighter than the sun radiating from them.

  An agonized scream had her looking up. The light from her wings pierced Azazarel, and he fell to the ground, disintegrating to dust upon impact. An awed silence filled the room as the stomping of feet stopped, and everyone stared at her.

  “You–” Thorin stopped talking and coughed deeply, “found your wings.” He slowly sat up, still in obvious pain, but his color was coming back. As he sat, a bright light radiated from him as his white wings sprang from his back.

  “What?” Zera asked in confusion looking at his wings, she reached to touch one, the feathers soft against her fingers. But instead of an answer, Thorin grabbed her and rolled them away as a spear landed where Zera had sat. She looked up to see guards rushing in, murderous intent in their eyes. The Lords had all jumped to the skies, their red bodies absorbing the light in the room. They would swoop down and grab a slave, carrying them high and dropping them into the arena. Slaves ran, trampling over each other as they tried to escape. Manic laughter could be heard as the Lords, flipped and flew in a dance that almost appeared choreographed, picking up and dropping people.

  Zera grabbed the spear that lay next to her, and turned to face the challenge. Her body moved in a choreography that belied years of training, and muscle memory. A voice whispered in her ear, “Yes, my Mouse, you have this.” A puzzle for later, she parried the sword that came at her, jabbing and thrusting. She pulled the spear from the guard who fell at her feet, bracing her foot against his shoulder to have leverage to yank the spear free. Thorin grabbed the sword from the dead guard and jumped into the sky. He slashed at the first Lord he met, ripping his wing and forcing him to plummet to earth, he turned and cut the hand off the lord who reached for his neck. Ruthless, he slashed and thrust, injuring the Lords. But he was outnumbered, and as they circled him it became evident that he was fighting a losing battle.

  Zera fought her own battle on the ground, the guards pouring into the arena. No matter how many she injured, they kept coming. A scream of pain had her risking a look above her. Thorin fell to the ground, one wing hanging useless, pouring golden blood. Zera screamed, throwing off the guard who had grabbed her and jumped to the sky. She hovered in the air, her arms extended out to her sides, as white light radiated from her. As the light hit the Lords they fell to the ground screaming in agony, disintegrating into piles of dust. Wave after wave of light flowed over the people in the hall. As the light hit them the collars on their necks disappeared, and cries of pain and fear filled the room. The guards continued to fight, not caring who they killed or maimed. The humanity that still existed in the slaves had been wiped from them, all that was left was the urge to kill and terrorize. With no one to guide their base urges, they fell on each other, fighting until they were unable to stand or hold a sword, their life blood soaking the floor, making it slippery. One guard, his one arm missing, the other hanging useless at his side, reached his head out and bit the neck of the man next to him.

  Zera and Thorin looked at the sight before them in disgust, unable to tear their eyes away. Thorin stepped forward and ruthlessly walked through the mass, repeatedly swinging the sword in an arc as heads fell. Zera shuttered and looked away.

  She wanted to cover her ears from the screams of pain. The crowd had trampled each other trying to get to the doors, but the guards had kept them away. A pile of bodies blocked the doors from opening, at the very top lay the guards who had finally been overpowered. The chaos was too much for her to take in. She didn’t know what to do or how to help. A hand on her shoulder had her jumping. My Rose, safe, thank God. She doesn’t know how beautiful she is. Zera turned to look at Thorin, smiling. “Thorin, are you okay? Your wing?” He turned, and a flutter of his wing stirred the dust and blood that surrounded them.

  “Healing powers, remember? And it is Gris. I never want to hear that name again.” He said with a fierceness tempered by the gentle kiss he gave her. Just as I thought. Honey and fire. She pulled away from him and smiled “Honey
and fire, huh?”

  He grinned at her and leaned in and sampled her lips again, his wings surrounding her in a cocoon of warmth “Yup, honey and fire.” His kiss revitalized her, filling her with energy and strength. She moaned as he pulled away.

  Behind her, she felt a warmth and a familiar electric shock as a set of arms surrounded her and a kiss was placed on her neck. My Little Mouse is beautiful. She looked down and saw opaque arms around her, turning she cried out as she saw the translucent form of Keyne. Yes, my Mouse I am here and have always been here. I held you when you cried, gave you my strength when yours failed. I told you I would always find you, and not even death can stop that.

  Gris shouted “Keyne” and reached towards him surprise evident. “How?”

  “The Gods obviously thought that my job here was not done” Keyne smiled. “I think we have more important things to do now, though.” He looked around the room.

  “You’re right,” Gris said and looked around the room. “We need to figure out how to get out of here, to call in help, get these people out of here and back to their lives.”

  “Um, I might be able to help with that” a tentative voice spoke. Gris and Rose turned to see two women standing back from them, cautiously approaching. “Adda!” Rose pulled her into a hug.

  “Zera, I’m glad to see you safe,” she rasped, her voice having not been used in years. Her red hair was disheveled, and she had a couple scrapes but otherwise, she was uninjured. Leaning against Adda, Opaline stood. Her ankle was swollen, and she had cuts and bruises. She tentatively touched one of Rose’s wings.