A thick wall of navy blue glass appeared, separating them and her fist hit it. It vibrated between them. She bit the inside of her cheek, pain vibrating up her arm as her fist connected hard.
They were using magic, she frowned.
Determination pulsed through her. Magic or not, she would not be beaten.
Fisting her hand around the handle of the knife, she brought it down once, twice, three times with all her strength. She didn’t know what this magic was, but she knew there wasn’t anything that would stop her when she set her mind to it. Even if she was merely human. The tip of the blade sunk into the blue glass. She left it sunk there for a moment before she spun, sending her heel flying into the handle of the blade, driving it deeper.
The glass exploded in a force of energy that sent both Orren and Ridhor sailing back.
Melas’ heel caught on the bottom step, stopping her from falling to her ass as she used it to balance herself.
Turning quickly, she came around the steps, reaching blindly into the shadows.
Andrei was there, he had to be.
The scent of him was there. Faintly. The metallic scent of blood erasing the masculine spice she always thought was so Andrei. As before, she focused on the smell, pulling him out of his shadow form and back where she could do damage.
Wide eyes stared back at her with a tired look of defeat.
Good. It was important they all know she wasn’t messing around.
She spun, throwing him back towards the others.
Ridhor sidestepped Andrei easily, but he collided hard with Orren. They grunted, falling to the floor.
Groaning, Andrei crawled away from the pile.
He wouldn’t be much trouble to her right now.
Orren squared his footing, taking in a deep breath before he ran at her.
Underneath her calm focus, a match had been lit. It ignited the rage building in her belly at the thought of these three men attacking her. With each run at her, each failed attempt, she felt more of her insides catch fire. The rage consuming her.
Never one to trust easily, she hadn’t felt this betrayal before. She was as angry with herself as she was with them for being stupid enough to plant a seed of trust and let it blossom between them. It was a mistake she would make when she was young, inexperienced and still a little naive. Not now, not with Zura’s life constantly on the line.
Kicking the blade up off the floor, she flipped the blade in her hand so she grasped it with the blunt side of the blade against her forearm. She let the sharpened steel sink into the tender flesh of his cheek as his fist shot out. She twisted, his fist flying through empty air where her stomach had just been. Flipping the knife in her grasp again, she let the blade glide up his back, slicing effortlessly through his shirt as it dipped into the flesh to the left of his spine. Without pause, she brought the handle of the knife down hard against his temple. His feet staggered on the floor for a moment as he reached up. The blow enough to knock most unconscious, but he fought through it.
Melas kept that in mind. She would hit him harder next time.
Turning, she kept her focus on the men behind her but her eyes on Ridhor.
Of the three, he was the one who made her feel safe and protected, but the look in his eye told her she was very wrong to let her guard down. He was a threat, and he was going to attack her.
Letting out a steady breath, she watched him.
Something inside her wanted him to be the one to make the first move. Defending herself felt easier than attacking him outright. She was being foolish, she reminded herself. He took the time to break down the walls she was using to emotionally close herself off. He weakened her resolve only to stand before her now an enemy, and she was considering his feelings.
His feelings didn’t matter.
Nothing mattered except Zura.
And surviving.
Running towards him, she dropped to the ground, sliding between his opened legs. She dragged the blade along his thigh, jumping to her feet behind him. Climbing his back, she wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, barely able to lock her legs around the wide girth of him before she held the blade with the tip pressed to the side of his throat.
She kept the emotion from her eyes, not Melas at the moment but a warrior with a task as she looked down at Orren who was sitting on the bottom step with his head in his hands. Andrei sat a few steps higher, his arm wrapped around his midsection. “Fuck, that kills.” Groaning, he lifted his hand to look at the damage underneath. Blood coated his hand, soaking the thin fabric of his shirt and dripping onto the step under him. “Great fucking plan, Orren. What now?”
Melas’ brow furrowed.
Orren kept one hand to his head, holding the other up to quiet Andrei. “Just give me a second. Sweet Lilith, I didn’t expect her to be that strong. Just let me piece myself back together.”
Andrei scoffed. “I don’t know what the hell you’re complaining about. You’ll be right as rain in a few minutes. Ridhor will have to be stitched up.”
Shaking his head as he tried to clear it, Orren looked up at Ridhor. “How bad, old friend?”
His hands were held out in front of him in surrender as he looked at Andrei and Orren on the steps. “I’ve had worse.” The deep timbre of his voice vibrated through Melas’ chest still clutched to his back. Despite his words, blood pooled on the floor under his feet. She hadn’t aimed for his femoral artery. In a moment of weakness, she hadn’t been able to, but she’d gotten dangerously close.
Mere centimetres to the right and he would be as good as dead. At least she thought so, she had no idea how much blood a Berserker could lose and still survive. So much of these men were still a mystery to her.
Clearly, she didn’t know them at all.
Annoyance flooded her as they casually spoke to one another as though they didn’t just attack her unprompted. Her mind whirled with explanations for the attack. They could be trying to capture her, turn her into Thiriel and ridding them of all the trouble they were causing.
If that was the plan, it would make more sense to just lead her there. As foolish as it was, she trusted them enough to not question them too much if they brought her somewhere else. This small town was making her stir-crazy, she would’ve been happy to travel.
Orren’s cheek stitched slowly back together as he looked at her. His silver eyes scanning her face for any sign of what she was thinking as she held the tip of the blade to Ridhor’s neck. Her thoughts were going wild, but she wasn’t about to let him know that.
“Someone tell me what’s going on before I skewer your Berserker’s neck.”
Ridhor sighed. “I am the Berserker again.” Though his tone was flat, she could sense his disappointment. “This was why I told you I didn’t want to take part in your plan.”
“That’s the only reason? It has nothing to do with all three of us bleeding out right now? She reached right into the shadows and tore me out. Ripped me from the shadows.” Andrei hissed. “I’ll have to feed tonight.”
“You’ll get no blood from us, Andrei.” Orren’s breathing was heavy. “My ward seemed rather pointless.” Fog still gripped his mind as he willed himself to heal faster so he could stand without feeling the world spinning.
“Talk.” Her voice was hard as she pushed the blade, breaking through skin.
Holding up a hand, Orren pushed to his feet. “We understand your need to be cautious with us. The plan was to show you how easily you could overtake us and hopefully make you feel at ease. We have no intention of hurting you, but as I suspected, if we did you could easily kill us all.” His shirt was in tatters. He pulled the remaining fabric forward, ripping it off his chest.
Melas frowned.
“Having you this high strung and wary of Andrei and I was becoming tedious. It’s hard enough being cooped up here. You were unaware of our fighting skills and strengths. It was making you uneasy. I figured if we showed you—” He winced, clutching his head again.
“This idiot figure
d if we went at you at a hundred and you kicked our asses you could calm down a little and become a little less stabby.” Andrei shook his head at Orren.
Confusion flooded her.
They attacked her knowing full well she would defend herself, maybe even kill one of them so she would feel more comfortable around them and let her guard down.
Her eyes scanned the men.
The cut on Orren’s cheek was completely gone, the side of his face still covered in blood. No signs of the head injury she gave him were evident, but the wild unfocused gaze in his eyes told her she rattled him enough he was likely in pain.
Andrei was grunting, his hand still covering his side. If he needed to feed to heal, she must have done a good amount of damage. Or maybe a feeding was on the schedule anyway.
Ridhor didn’t have their healing ability. She noticed when he walked around with his shirt off he was riddled with scars, raised pale pink marks covered him in his entirety. Yet, he attacked anyway, knowing the risks.
The flames of rage burning brightly a moment before were instantly doused.
She came at them with the intent of doing a great deal of harm. It was unlike her to stop and ask questions, but the bond building with Ridhor made her pause before sinking the blade home. Had she not been so soft, he would be dead and once he was dead there would be nothing to stop her from turning her rage to the other two.
They were right, she didn’t trust Orren and Andrei.
If a reason to kill them ever came up, she would without thinking about it. She wasn’t even sure she would feel guilty. This was a huge risk for both of them, that much was clear as they sat on the steps. Their breathing heavy. Bleeding.
Had it been either of them, she would have gone for the femoral artery. She would have sunk the blade home.
“Why would you do that?” She loosened her grip on the blade, pulling it away from Ridhor’s neck. “I could have killed him.” Dropping down off his back, she moved to stand in front of Ridhor. “I could have killed you.” She snarled with accusation.
Relaxing his stance slightly, he adjusted his weight so he was leaning more on the leg she hadn’t cut into. Lifting his shoulders, he repeated the words that first broke through her walls. “I don’t know the why, I only know I would.” His voice was low, wanting to keep his words between the two of them.
Her heart lurched in her chest.
The tension filling her slowly ebbed away, leaving her tired and worn as she looked him over. Reaching up, she skimmed her fingers along his neck frowning. “I thought maybe you were getting tired of taking care of us and were ready to cut your losses.” She wondered why she didn’t feel vulnerable revealing those thoughts to Ridhor.
Reaching out his hand, he ran the pad of his thumb along her jaw. “Never.”
Taking in a sharp breath, she tried to ignore the butterflies fluttering around in her belly. She was turning into a hormonal teenager. Ignoring it, she sunk the blade into his belt and cut it free. Cutting the fabric of his pants from the waistband, she carefully cut down to the knee and let his pants fall in a pile around his ankles.
Dropping to his knees in front of him, she inspected the long, nasty gash.
“Fuck, that’s hot.” Andrei’s voice was thick, but she ignored him. He was bleeding out and was still thinking about his dick. Was that a Vampire thing, or an Andrei thing? She wondered.
Cutting up the rest of his pants, she used a strip of the fabric to carefully clean the wound. “This won’t just heal like Orren’s face?” She asked him.
He shook his head. “I will heal faster than a human would, and my body can take a lot more, but I will not just seamlessly heal like these two fuckers.”
Frowning for the hundredth time since she woke up, she took in a deep breath and looked up at him. “You shouldn’t have done whatever the hell this was.” Pushing up to her feet, she shot a scowl over her shoulder at Orren. “I will deal with you later.”
He still had a hand cupped around his head as he waved her off. “Take your time.”
Wrapping her hand around Ridhor’s she led him down the hall to the bathroom.
“No one cares about me.” She could hear Andrei sulking as she moved down the hall.
“Count yourself lucky, I’m pretty sure she isn’t going to care for me like she’s doing for Ridhor when she finds me later.” Orren’s voice was low and edged with discomfort.
“At least she will be looking for you.”
Rolling her eyes, she pulled Ridhor into the bathroom and pushed him down to sit on the lid of the toilet. Turning, she retrieved everything she would need from the cupboards. Ridhor kept almost every bathroom completely stocked with medical supplies. She was sure he could turn any of these rooms into a surgery room with all he kept handy.
The wound was about twelve inches long and ran from the top of his knee up into his thigh. It was deep, he was going to need stitches.
Melas busied herself with cleaning him up before getting the materials ready she would need to stitch him up. It kept her from being drowned in her thoughts.
Knowing what they were willing to risk opened a door inside her she was struggling to keep closed. After her intimate moment with Orren, and Andrei’s constant flirting and attention, they were strong-arming their way through that door. Pushing against it as she struggled to keep her footing on the other side.
Working her bottom lip through her teeth, she wasn’t sure if she should talk to Ridhor about her feelings. All of this was done in some weird effort to make her feel content, talking to him about it was what she needed to do to thank them for that. As crazy as it all was, she understood it.
She was a hard woman. She kept herself closed off from everyone because she couldn’t afford to let anyone else behind the walls she built around her and Zura. Trusting anyone, caring about anyone else was dangerous. She couldn’t afford to be reckless.
Andrei wanted nothing more than to gain Zura’s trust, but that was something she hadn’t allowed. Orren was trying to let his emotions be more evident, trying to seem less mysterious, in hopes it would be enough to wear her down.
It hadn’t.
This plan was crazy and unlike anything she thought they’d be willing to do. They sacrificed their bodies, their lives to ensure she knew without a doubt they weren’t a threat. That wasn’t her being dramatic, she could have easily killed one of them.
As twisted as it seemed, it was sweet.
Clearing her throat, she threaded the curved needle and readied the tweezers. “I’m trying to figure out what to say to you right now.” Honesty was probably her best bet with Ridhor. He already sacrificed a lot for them, she owed him that much.
Nodding slowly, his eyes met hers. Though one eye was pale blue from whatever injury burned his face, it was no less intense than the hazel one as he stared at her. “It was a reckless plan. Do you feel it worked?”
She nodded slowly. “It’s weird. I guess it goes to show how broken I am, but knowing I could kill any of you did lift a weight off my shoulders. I wasn’t sure what types of powers you would bring to a fight. If I’m being honest, you’re still a bit of a wildcard.”
“Because you haven’t seen me shift.” It wasn’t a question, he knew her well enough to know exactly why fighting him hadn’t been the same as fighting the others. “Shifting in close quarters is dangerous, and I like this house.”
Melas laughed. It startled her feeling it shake through her chest, easing a bit of the awkwardness in the bathroom as she carefully stitched up Ridhor’s leg.
Surprising her, he laughed too. It was a low chuckle, mild in comparison to the way hers shook her shoulders, but it was enough to cause her to slowly relax.
Ridhor calmed them. Though he had this air of a predator and should make her weary with his large form and menacing scowl, he had this way of reaching into her core and untangling her nerves.
“This is a nice house.” She agreed, tying off one of his stitches to begin another.
“I
can show you my bear, but the Berserker is something even I can’t control. Bringing him out is always dangerous. I’m not willing to put you at risk. Even to appease you.” The strength in his voice did something to her in the depths of her belly.
Swallowing, she met his eyes. “You don’t need to show me your bear. You didn’t even have to go along with that plan with those two.” She dropped her brow in thought. “For some reason, I’ve been comfortable with you for a while now. I’m no more comfortable with you now than I was yesterday. Whatever this,” she gestured between them. “—is between us, I think we’re as strong as we can be under the circumstances.”
She finished off a few more stitches before he spoke again. “What you’re saying is you sliced me up for no reason?”
Laughing again, she lifted her shoulders. “Pretty much. If I knew you were going to do this, I would have warned you. Though, I understand why you had to spring something like this on me. I wouldn’t have come at you three as hard if I knew this was all to prove a point.”
“One I didn’t prove, apparently.” He said dryly.
Melas thought about that for a while. Finishing off the stitches, she poured some glowing tonic over them before sitting back on her feet. “You did prove something to me, though probably not what you set out to prove.”
“Oh?”
This was it, time for her to be brave. “I’m not the kind of person who allows people to get close. It’s been just me, then Zura and I for so long that it’s just safer I don’t. I don’t even remember why, which is frustrating but I know it’s always been that way.” Melas took in a breath. “Before I came here and started building whatever this is between us, I would have sliced through your femoral artery and sunk your blade into the side of your neck without hesitation. I didn’t want to kill you. I wanted to hurt you because I was angry. I was angry and felt betrayed but—” She swallowed hard. “I didn’t want to kill you.”
Ridhor’s hard eyes assessed her. He could see beneath her hard surface, knew what she was confessing to him. Clasping her hand in his, he squeezed it lightly. “You care about me.”
Hidden In Darkness (A Seven Realms Book Book 1) Page 20
