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He hissed. “Good. You like it rough. We like it rough, too.” He turned, laughing to his companion, and I mustered a final burst of resistance and aimed it into one well-placed kick. He went down in a heap, right on top of me.
I shoved at him and lurched toward the street, toward the people and the lights and safety. If they could see me…
I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out.
A hand grabbed the back of my head, nearly ripping the hair from my scalp as the other man wrenched me back. “Leaving so soon?”
He shoved me to the ground, and the other pounced.
Spit sprayed my face as he pinned my wrists against the cold pavement. I couldn’t call for help, couldn’t beg for mercy, couldn’t even cry as he plucked the straps of my dress. “At least this one’s pretty. I wonder if she’ll taste as good as she looks.” His forked tongue slid out of his mouth and slithered down my cheek, his breath rancid and shockingly cold. I twisted, craning my mouth as far from those nightmare teeth as I could manage.
And the pendant slid to my shoulder.
I was never really alone. Not anymore. I’d forgotten.
I twisted beneath him, trying to lift my knee, trying to aim another shot at his groin. Not because I was stupid enough to think he would fall for the same thing twice but because I needed a distraction.
“You’ve got to be more creative than that.” He grabbed my thigh, and my freed fingers shot for the necklace.
Help.
It was all I managed before the other grabbed my arms and held them over my head. “I like it when they fight. It gets in their blood.”
Bile rose in my throat, threatening to choke me. I spluttered, managing to turn my head just enough to not suffocate.
“Let’s see what we can do about these clothes…and this skin. You’ll be even prettier without it.” He dragged a razor-shop nail along my collarbone, my skin splitting like a seam, and I cried out, the silent scream shredding my throat as it tried to escape. His face angled over mine, macabre curiosity gleaming as he spilled my blood. I closed my eyes, every muscle in my body coiling with dread.
I prayed they killed me before they…
The world went deathly still, muted like my voice. It contracted in a thunderous rush of wind and shadows that cleaved the night in two and flattened me against the wet pavement, knocking the murderous creature off me. I rolled away from him, gasping, fingers scrabbling to drag my body across the cracked cement. The streetlamp flared to life, illuminating the man standing over me, gun in hand. He looked down at me, and his face contorted with a rage that was ancient and primal.
A prince of death.
I surrendered to the safety of that darkness. My body collapsed onto the street as I drank air into my lungs. Lach cast one lingering look in my direction, eyes narrowing on the throbbing wound at my collarbone. He reached over and chambered a round before stepping forward.
I rolled my head, tracking his movement to discover the monsters edging toward the dead end, excuses pouring from their mouths.
“Stop,” Lachlan growled, dark magic lacing the command. He lifted his left hand and cut the air in a circle with his index finger. Both males flipped onto their backs, their hands and feet trying desperately to scuttle away as death approached.
“If we had known,” the one that licked me began.
“You knew.” Lachlan stalked forward.
The other one shoved at his friend. “He did it. He wanted a snack.”
The words snapped me out of my shock as I realized he’d meant what he’d said about tasting me literally. I clamped a hand over my mouth, but it was too late. I doubled over and retched.
Lachlan’s head whipped around, eyes narrowing on that sound. One of the fae lunged toward the street, and I opened my mouth to warn him before the monster escaped. But Lachlan’s eyes narrowed, assessing me with concern as he lifted the gun and fired a single shot without looking. It cut the air and hit the escaping one in his left shoulder with a wet, bone-splintering crack. Not a kill shot, but he went down in a heap, moaning. His companion froze.
I flinched as a tattoo twisted around Lachlan’s neck. The air shimmered for a moment, and Roark appeared. His eyes scanned the scene, calculating—collected, unlike the prince he served. Roark knelt down, and I tucked my knees to my chest as he gently examined my wound. But I couldn’t look away from Lachlan as he holstered the gun and reached out with his magic. The magic lifted the fae to his feet, and Lachlan grabbed his arm, twisting it behind his back with a sickening pop. The creature’s eyes bulged as he cried out.
“First, I am going to break every fucking bone in your hand,” he promised. Something cracked, and the fae arched in agony, mumbled pleas spilling from him. “Then, when I’ve shattered every single fucking bone, I’m going to cut each finger off one at a time for daring to touch her.” The monster sobbed, shaking and squirming, but Lachlan’s mouth curled into a merciless smile. “And then, we’ll have some real fun. That’s what you were looking for, right? A good time?”
I searched for my voice, searched for the words to tell him to stop this, but found none. All I could offer was one small assurance. “I’m okay.”
Lachlan’s jaw clenched, eyes finding mine, but he didn’t let go.
“Please, please, we didn’t hurt her. I pray forgiveness.” The creature cried out as another bone broke.