Page 206 of Barbi and the Villain

My attempts to invoke my shield are useless. It materializes for a few seconds before it disappears. The pain is too great for me to focus on anything other than the puncture wounds.

I crumble to the ground, unable to move, or fight, or even speak.

As they see me down and defeated, they don’t stop. At once, the six of them raise their swords high and aim them for my chest. The sharp tips sink in my skin, eliciting a muted groan of pain. My mouth is wide open, my mind screaming, yet only silence greets me.

The soldiers laugh at my pain, kicking me with their feet and spitting on me in derision. I turn my head to the side, closing my eyes so I don’t see their mocking expressions or the promise of more pain reflected in their gazes.

Yet throughout this entire ordeal, there is only one pervasive thought.

Nyk… Where are you?

I refuse to believe he would abandon me like this in my time of need. I refuse to believe he wouldn’t come once my wounds mirrored on his body. And if he’s not here, then there is only one explanation.

He’s hurt too.

He’s somewhere out there, hurting as much as I am—perhaps more.

I’m sorry, Nyk…

My lashes are heavy with a mix of salty tears and thick blood, clogging my sight.

Pain is everywhere.

My awareness dims by the second, but it’s not before I hear more laughter, accompanied by a, ‘we have to make her pay for killing our brothers.’ But if that had been all, I would have been fine. Yet right as they remove their swords out of my body, the suggestions change. No longer is the punishment for killing their brothers death. No, it is something far worse.

I blink against the dried blood holding my lids together. They barely creep open, my lashes ripping with the effort. My sight is hazy, but I can make out the circle they’ve made around me. They snicker and kick at me. But not before long, the taunts turn from violent to sexual. One of the men reaches for the fastening of his trousers, pulling his dick out.

Terror grips me from deep within, but I am too weak to move—too weak to even vocalize a protest.

Warm, foul liquid sprays over me as he relieves himself on my battered body.

The jokes continue, calling me a whore who cheated her husband of his property. And there is only one lesson for one such as me.

The others follow the man’s lead, opening their trousers and peeing on me.

It takes everything in me to move my head to the side so they don’t aim at my face.

If it had ended with this humiliation, I could have lived with myself. But as they kneel next to me, pulling at my pants, I know that what awaits me is a fate worse than death.

Nyk… Where are you when I need you, Nyk?

A lone tear rolls down my cheek before I close my eyes. If this is going to happen, then at least I want no memory of it—of their dirty touches.

A wild cry permeates the air, and before the men can touch me, they’re thrown off me. They land a distance away on the shore, and right as they try to get up and fight, they are turned into dust.

Nyk…

He’s here.

My lips tremble in a failed attempt at a smile.

I don’t think I’ve ever been happier in my life.

He crouches next to me, his features as ravaged by pain as mine. He lifts a hand to my face, caressing me lightly.

“Drink,” he whispers, bringing his wrist to my mouth and urging me to bite him.

I can barely open my mouth wide enough to grasp at his skin. My gums tingle, and my fangs slowly extend. The process in itself is arduous as I can hardly control my body. My fangs graze his skin and a few drops of blood hit my tongue.

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