“I’m not doing it!” I returned. I blinked and before I knew it he was in front of me, his body blocking out the sun. A hand was around one of my wrists and one under my chin, forcing me to look at him.
“Don’t fight me.”
His words physically hit me, and if he weren’t holding me close, I would have taken a step back. I had no urge to fight him. None. I looked up into his eyes, mesmerized. Such expressive eyes wasted on a cold-hearted assassin. I knew something was wrong. Felt it clench in my stomach, but I couldn’t do anything about it. Didn’t really want to.
“You will stand on the path until the Untouchables arrive. When they get here, you will pretend your horse ran off. You’ll act like a damsel in distress, and you won’t say anything about me.”
The words were like a punch, and I stepped back when he let me go. My stomach knotted while I did exactly what he said. My legs carried me over to the path while my mind screamed at me to stop.
I tried to stop my legs’ motion, but they were stuck in their destination to the path. When I was where I was supposed to be, tremulous thoughts of my imminent death flooded my mind.
I’m going to die.
Tears filled my eyes as the itch to flee consumed me, but I couldn’t do anything but wait for my murderers. I was stuck on the path like a virgin sacrifice, just as my grandmother had said. There was no way that he could handle that many men without one touching me first.
I didn’t even see him walk over to me through glossy eyes. He stood before me, his hand cupping my nape. I hated him. So much that I didn’t expect the next words out of his mouth. “Relax. Nothing will harm you. Nothing.” His hand was gone, and peace settled my mind like a blissful cloud, and the fist around my heart unclenched. I sucked in a deep breath as my tense muscles relaxed.
The sun was warm, and the breeze a perfect interlude. When I saw riders approach in the distance, I felt as I had when I’d sit outside the cottage with Grandmother, enjoying a cold drink and watching the sunset; as if my horse had just run off and these gentlemen would help me. They pulled up on their reins while looking at me and then around as if to see if anyone else was near.
“I’m so glad I have some help! My horse seems to have run off, and I’ve been walking for hours,” I said, the words coming out of my mouth on their own. The men dismounted their horses, their eyes only on me now. If I weren’t magically inclined, I would have felt like prey to these predators’ next meal.
“Well if this isn’t our lucky day,” one of the white-clad men said. I took in their clothes and realized they probably had many accidental deaths if they didn’t keep themselves completely covered. They could have even killed their horses. How inconvenient that would be.
I frowned. “Why is it your lucky day?”
The men laughed. “We just found a half-naked angel on the side of the road. What about that isn’t lucky?” one of the men asked.
I rolled that around in my naive, magically-enforced mind and my answer was pathetic. “Well, I’m not an angel. I can’t grant you wishes or anything if that’s what you want.”
They laughed some more. “I almost wish I could keep this one alive,” one of the men said as he walked towards me.
“Why would you kill me?” The information still not doing anything to disturb me. I saw the man smile underneath the white cloth covering his face.
“Unfortunately, that is the only way we can be with a woman,” he said.
“That is unfortunate,” I replied and meant it.
He walked closer. “I’ll be sad to see you go, Angel.” He took another step, and that was when a knife lodged itself into the side of his throat. His eyes remained on me as he fell to the ground. His death could have been a bunny running across the path for all I cared. The other Untouchables looked around in frantic movements and shouted in a language I hadn’t heard before.
I never saw Weston move, but he was now behind the men. A blur of movement and two more men were on the ground.
My relaxation dissipated, and I tensed when an Untouchable strode towards me. His gloves were off and every step he took closer, the more the itch to flee consumed me. My mind was in a fog, but I could feel panic and terror trying to push their way in. The man froze. His determined dark eyes morphed into a hazy cloud of disbelief. His stare was blank before he crumpled to the ground, a red pool of liquid growing on his back, a knife in the center.
Weston dispatched the last man behind him with an elbow to his white-clad face and then a slash to the neck as he turned around. Seven men lay between us. Blood seemed to be the new ground. I stood on the dusty path completely numb. Too many emotions mixed together and created a blah feeling, as it was with mixing too many colors of paint.
I stood still for many moments, looking at the scene. I had never seen anyone murdered in front of my eyes before, and all within a day I had seen too much. There had been hangings in Alger, but I’d never gone to them.
I felt sick, but when I looked up at Weston, my nausea left me with the breeze. He watched me as if to gauge my sanity. And the strongest emotion to return to me was a heart pounding, skin flushing, all-consuming fury.
I felt for the knife at my hip and threw it at him with all the skill he had taught me. It flew through the air and lodged itself in his bicep. He barely flinched as he pulled it out with one tug, and tossed it on the ground, his eyes a dark green storm.
“I hate you,” I snarled with venom.
He walked towards me with short, stalking steps, until we were only inches apart. “Good, then we’re finally on the right terms.”
My eyes were drawn away from his face and to the blood running down his arm from the wound I had caused.
I sucked in a breath when all I saw was a thin scar.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
SAD TRUTHS
I mulled the idea of leaving and fending for myself around over and over. How could I have lived in this violent world and never known how to protect myself? I didn’t doubt that if I wasn’t with Weston, I wouldn’t have made it this far. No matter how much that bit of truth pissed me off, I couldn’t deny that it was the truth.
I was between a rock and a hard place. I was so angry that he would use me as he had, but the thought of being alone was gut wrenching. I needed to be stronger if I wanted to make it in this world.
My hair was different. My clothes were different. But now, I was the weak farm girl from Alger. And I didn’t want to be her anymore.
Weston might have been an enigmatic man with no conscience, but those Untouchables were surely worse. He hadn’t physically hurt me nor had he tried to rape me. And that was what made me decide to stay. That, and to learn how to protect myself.
We hadn’t said a word to each other the rest of the ride. It’d taken an hour before the shaking in my hands disappeared; it was mainly from the intense anger boiling in my veins.
“Do whatever you did to me again and I’ll kill you in your sleep,” I told him.
He gave me an indifferent look as he sat across the fire that showed me exactly how worried he was about that particular threat. He wasn’t. With the raging inferno in my mind dissipating, I realized something.
He could move in a blink of an eye and could have dodged my knife easily.
He let me stab him.
It must have been his strange way of making amends. He might have been a psychotic assassin, but now I knew that he knew it, too. I caught his glare above the fire, announcing his meddling around in my head.
“Stay out of my head,” I sighed, truly aggravated at the lack of privacy. “I thought you would rather endure torture than listen to my thoughts?”
“They are hard to block out when you shout them to the world.”
“How am I supposed to know how loud my thoughts are when it’s abnormal to be able to hear them? You’re the one with the problem. Control your creepy impulses to listen,” I said but heard no reply. “What are you teaching me tonight?” I continued. I could feel the protest in the air,
so I stood up and unsheathed my knife. “Say anything about not agreeing to teach me and I will stab you again.”
He was silent and still for a moment. Too still that I became aware I’d stepped over the line. There was a blur, and my own knife was pressed against my throat from behind. The cold of the steel made me shudder.
“Threaten me again and you won’t live to regret it. We both know I let your knife hit me. I promise you, I won’t let it happen again,” he growled. “Now, try to get away from me.”
I blinked. “What?”
“Your first lesson is right now. Try to get away.”
There was still a knife at my throat, and I had no idea how to begin. “I don’t know how,” I admitted.
He sighed. “Lean all your weight back, and grab my wrist holding the knife and push it away. That will give you some room to bring your head back to head butt me. Now, you can take your other arm and swing it down into my groin. It’s the best spot to hit a man, but since I’d prefer you didn’t do that, you can elbow me in the stomach instead. Now I’m dazed, and you can run. And you’ll run fast because you have little to no chance if I catch you again. I wouldn’t have my guard down.”
I took it all in, and then leaned back and gave his wrist a push, which I was sure he let happen. It was a bummer, but I rolled with it. I brought my head back, and it bounced off his hard chest.
“Ow,” I said while I rubbed the back of my head.
“You don’t have to use the force you would in a real fight. Most men are shorter than me. So, you might hit them in a better spot.”
“But I need to learn how to defend myself against you.”
He let out a breath of amusement. “Could never happen.”
“Don’t make me hit you in the groin,” I warned.
He laughed this time. “Think that would bring me down?”
“I won’t know till I try it, will I?” I taunted.
“It would only be a severe annoyance. You want to make me angry, Princess? Try it.”
“Stop calling me a princess. It’s not even close to the truth.”
“No? Aren’t princesses spoiled, little girls?”
I shook my head, but the knife grazed my throat, and I held still. “I’m not spoiled, and I’m not little.” My reply sounded poutier than I would have liked.
“I think you’re the shortest girl I’ve ever come across.”
I scoffed. “They must make them tall in Titan because I’m average where I come from.”
The fact that I was having a conversation with an assassin while he held a knife to my throat was not something I registered until later. And I realized that normal to me had severely changed on the scale.
“Ah yes, Alger. They must make them a lot softer there, too.”
I frowned. I’d never told him I was from Alger. He must have been meddling around in my head. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? I’m not soft.” I had always been a hard worker and was toned. I wasn’t self-conscious in the slightest, and I knew he was talking about my lack of muscle mass. And trying to piss me off.
“I don’t know, you feel kind of soft to me.” His hand ran across my bare midsection. It felt like fire, and was such a shock to my heart, that I grabbed it and flung it off me. He chuckled, and it warmed my insides against my wishes.
“I’m not soft,” I growled.
“Prove it, Princess. Get away,” he taunted.
I went through the routine again and again. But I decided to elbow him in the stomach instead of hitting him in the groin. There was that little thing called self-preservation holding me back. It wasn’t always around, so I took advantage of it when it was.
When I had the move down, I begged to be taught another one, but he refused and told me he would show me another one the next day. I grumbled something about needing to know more moves by tomorrow with the trouble he got me in. He only shot me a look, and I reluctantly dropped it.
I was lying on my pallet staring at the stars, thinking about Grandmother and home. And about my future. If I even had one . . .
“Weston?” I said to the star-lit sky. I didn’t hear anything but the crickets and the crackle of the fire, so I only continued. “What is Undaley like?”
“You’re not going to shut up until I answer, are you?”
“No,” I answered honestly.
“I’ve never been to Undaley.”
I didn’t have a whole lot of hope when I asked this question, but I had to try. “How can I keep you out of my head?”
“You can’t. And stop with the melancholy thoughts.”
“Why? Does it make your cold heart upset?” I sneered.
“You know what makes me upset? You. Awake. Go to fucking sleep.”
* * *
“Why did you even need me if you could kill seven men like that?” I asked Weston as we were once again traveling down the tedious dusty path the next morning. Trees and patches of grass were becoming more numerous the farther we went, and I was more than happy to see them. Never had I thought I would be excited to see some simple grass.
The entire day had been a quiet, uneventful one. Which to me was a win. Uneventful on this trip was always a good thing.
“I needed them together and distracted,” he said as he rode beside me.
“Not good enough to kill them all on guard?” I smiled internally as I asked it. I caught his dirty look out of the corner of my eye.
“It would have been risky.”
“How was using me not? Is that why you decided to escort me to Undaley? So you could use me as bait while you satisfied your bloodlust?”
“No, but it sure is a plus, isn’t it?” he drawled.
Ugh, he was annoying. And I suddenly imagined practicing knife throwing with him as a target.
He glanced at me with amused eyes, and I only shook my head. No matter how long it took to get to Undaley, I didn’t think I’d ever get used to him reading my thoughts.
“Then why did you change your mind and decide to take me?” I knew he didn’t do it out of the kindness of his heart, and his small smile confirmed it. “Well? I’m getting real tired of you ignoring me,” I sighed.
“I have to listen to you every minute of the day. Do you think you could give me a short respite?”
“I don’t talk all day.”
That might have been a tiny lie.
“You are constantly talking. And when you aren’t, your thoughts are loud enough to be heard in Cameron.”
“I told you to stop listening.”
“It’s not that easy when you shout your trivial thoughts.”
A frown pulled at my lips. “I don’t think about trivial things.”
“So trying to shock your grandmother with your recent hair removal experience isn’t trivial?”
I couldn’t contain my laughter. It flowed out of me like an erupting volcano. When I was done, my stomach was aching from laughing, and Weston was looking at me . . . strangely.
I cleared my throat. “You did say I was a prostitute in Cameron. I might as well look the part.”
“We both know you aren’t a prostitute.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I could totally be a prostitute. I was sure my thoughts were automatically coming out the opposite of whatever Weston said at this point.
“There’s a reason two men have called you an angel.”
“Why?”
He looked at me as if it was a ridiculous question. “Because you look like an innocent.”
“I do not.”
He shook his head. “Why do you argue with me? It gets you nowhere, and all it does is piss me off.”
I said the first thing I thought. Which was what I did most of the time. Little did I know how much trouble it would get me into in the end. “Maybe I like to piss you off.”
The look he gave me was completely serious. The look I was sure he had perfected as an assassin. The one he would give right before he got rid of whatever facade he had on, and shove
d a blade through his victim’s heart. The one that got rid of any man who happened to get past the shield his presence put up. And the one that made me internally shake in my boots. Though, I’d never admit it.
“Don’t ever forget what happened yesterday. Don’t feel a false sense of security around me. I’m not a knight in shining armor. Don’t pretend I am.”
My humor was gone.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
FLAMES OF MULTIPLE KINDS
We rode the rest of the day in silence. I tried not to think of anything, but it wasn’t that easy. I thought of home. I thought of the omen. I thought of the Saccar, and I thought of all the things I should have been hiding from Weston.
Tell yourself not to think of something and your mind thinks it’s a game it has to win.
I hadn’t spoken a word to Weston after what he said. He was right. And I wasn’t stupid enough to deny it from myself.
I felt an odd sense of safety with him. Triple on the odd. Even after what he had done to me.
Maybe it was from watching him dispatch seven men at one time. I didn’t know how to explain it to myself. But after a while of deliberation, I figured it out.
I felt safe because I doubted anyone could take him down.
When I realized Weston was probably along for that ride of my thoughts, frustration would have been a tame word to describe my emotions.
I was flustered enough that I didn’t think my actions through. Who knew one simple thought could lead to a series of unfortunate events?
I don’t doubt the eavesdropper’s listening—I thought it especially loud and looked over at him. I took in his quiet look and watched his eyes flicker with annoyance.
“Be lucky you are a woman. No man would get away with taunting me as you do.”
Now this was where my self-preservation decided to take a nap. “I can handle anything you could dish out.”
My stomach dropped after I said it. I swore my mouth had a mind of its own. I glanced at Weston nervously, but he wasn’t looking at me. I relaxed, until I saw the corner of his lips turn sly. Then I was sweating. I swallowed hard, looking away from him, and the sight before me stole my breath. I never thought I would see it in my lifetime.
A Girl Named Calamity (Alyria Book 1) Page 10
