He moves fast and lifts a heavily ringed hand to backhand me, whipping it across my face hard.
I hit the roughness of a tree and wetness trickles down my cheekbone. Blood.
“The more you resist, the more it’ll hurt.” He grabs my hair and drags me to him. I try to fight, to kick out, and reach for my blade, but my belt sheath is empty except for Rowan’s feather.
I left it back at the ruins.
Oh no…
I wrench my hair and turn in his arm, biting hard.
He screams and loosens his hold. It’s all I need. I dart around him. But he catches my arm, tossing me to the ground with such force, my vision darkens. He climbs on me, pinning me there, ripping at my tunic to expose my breasts.
“Did you lie with the Cursed One?” His sour breath washes over me. “Or are you still untouched?”
“Get off me!”
“You want me after all,” Titus crows as I try to throw him off. He hits me again and manages to pull my hem up, exposing my womanhood to his gaze. Then he twists one of my nipples. “You’ll be a whore for all to use. I’ll keep you in the barn. I’ll?—”
“Unhand her.”
I nearly sob at Rowan’s command. I can feel him near. His presence calms me, even faced with very real danger.
Suddenly, Titus is gone from me and on the ground. My heart beats fast as the Cursed One, Rowan, a fallen angel, stands over him, hands clenched, face hard, and his cheek…
It bleeds gold.
I raise shaking fingers to my own, and red stains the tips.
The bond…
Titus tries to kick him, but Rowan’s too fast. He flickers to another spot and lets Titus lumber to his feet.
“Leave this place. Last chance,” Rowan says, still standing with his hands clenched.
Titus narrows his eyes. “She’s my betrothed. I can do whatever I wish with her.”
“Lyra is no whore,” Rowan snarls. “She is mine. Go home and live. Stay and die. Your choice.”
Roaring, Titus pulls a knife and runs at Rowan. But all he does is spin, his wings lashing out and spearing Titus through the chest. There is a grunt and a sickening sound as the spiny tip of Rowan’s wing withdraws, and I know immediately what’s happened.
The body hits the ground. It happened too fast, I blink, wondering if I had imagined it all.
But no, Titus is unmoving with blood soaking his tunic in a dark red.
I stare at Rowan. “You killed him.”
“He tried to hurt you.” Rowan doesn’t move.
My mind spins. “It wasn’t?—”
“My fight?” he asks softly. “Yes, it was. As I said, you’re mine.”
I want to argue, to snap back at him, but I don’t feel anything but relief. A nasty brute, a true monster like Titus is gone from the world.
Rowan bled for me. Came for me. Killed for me.
Inside me, the bond throbs like something is missing, and even though Titus lays dead, I approach Rowan and touch the center of his chest, where the gold veins spread outward, fingers soft.