Page 2 of Hero

I blink to see the fallen man scrambling to his feet. He pinpoints the knife then barrels toward me. During the commotion a few voices pipe up over the rest.

“Harvey, get away,” Mrs. Beaufort yells.

“Run, Harvey!” my sister pleads.

I step on the knife’s handle and place my palms out in front of me to halt his charge—Have you lost your mind?

I’m either on a movie set or about to aid a real-life superhero! Of course, there’s a third option that I’m not given the chance to consider as I am shoved from behind.

“Keep him away from me,” Harvey cries.

Did he just push me?

I collide with the charging man, we tumble to the floor and I sprawl on my stomach.

“Bitch!” he shouts, fixing me with a murderous glare before his eyes desperately scour the floor then widen as he spots the knife, resting under a pew closest to him. Next he glances back at me, briefly locking me into a stare. His lips part ever so slightly, to reveal a set of sharp teeth. He grins wolfishly.

He picks up the blade and lunges at me. Squeezing my eyes shut, I brace myself for the blow. But it doesn’t come. I open my eyes in time to witness him shoot into the air as if he were tied to a bungee cord. However, he doesn’t come back down.

Chris Hemsworth’s doppelganger clutches him around the waist with one arm and hauls him into the air.

The man’s feet dangle. He shouts expletives, hisses, snarls and kicks his feet. Gone is the wolf-like appearance, the dangerous aura. He now looks like a child throwing a tantrum.

The larger man subdues him in a matter of seconds, cuffing his hands behind his back as the crowd breaks into applause.

I’m dumbstruck. He’s pure manly perfection, a force of nature that triggers something primal inside me.

I spot an object at his feet that must have fallen off his belt. I brave forward to pick it up, and doing so, I turn it in my hands. Two metallic prongs jut out the front end.

I ignore the fear coursing through my veins as I feast on his big, burly muscles before calling to him. “I think this might belong to you.”

Christ almighty, that penetrating gaze weakens my knees, and my fingers itch to touch his big beard, to find out if it feels as dangerous as it looks.

In two strides, he swallows the space between us down to a sliver. “And this belongs to you,” he rumbles, handing me my tiara.

“What’s your name?” he rasps in a sexy tone that sends shivers down my spine.

“Delilah,” I say, breathless and hot. “And yours?”

“Delilah.” When he repeats my name it sounds tantalizing on his tongue. “The name’s Silas.”

And with that, he turns and grabs the man from the floor, tosses him over his shoulder, and disappears out of the church.

I turn to Harvey.

“No.”

“I’m sorry?” he asks, confused.

“I won’t be your wife.”

“I understand you’re a little frazzled, Buttercup. Let’s just get the ceremony over with and you can lay down when you get to the cabin.”

“Harvey, I’m leaving you,” I say, matter-of-factly. I turn and scan for my hero. Gone. As if the whole thing were a wild fantasy. I stride toward the exit.

“Where is she going?” My mother asks.

“She’s leaving me.”

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