Page 80 of Finding Her
My lips quivered in abject pain and terror. Adrenaline forced its way through my body, electric and buzzing. My knuckles tightened around the handle of what was nowmyweapon, and I pumped my arms with as much momentum as I could force. I still couldn’t see properly, my vision slowly returning in blotchy bursts. Chunks of clotting redsomethingclung to my hands. The vision in my left eye remained blurred and disoriented, but my right could see now that I was no longerfighting for consciousness. My lungs burned around my heaving breaths, and I realized I’d neverrunbefore—at least not within the time frame of my memory.Just a little bit further and the pub will…
Graysen appeared. He froze, eyes immediately blinking bronze at the sight of me. “Faeryn,” he mouthed, the words barely more than a breath.
“Graysen!” I croaked out from my damaged throat, crashing into his chest. I buried my aching face into the crook of his shoulder and shook through gasps and tears.
Safe. I was safe. I felt a smooth knuckle tilt my face up, his molten eyes deadly in the dark shadows of his brow. A clawed thumb delicately traced my cheek as he assessed me briefly, efficiently. Examining every place I had been harmed.
The muscles of his jaw flexed with the urge to mutilate as he purred through clenched fangs, “Who did this to you?”
“I don’t know,” I cried, turning my head to look over my shoulder to where I had come from. “I was just walking—and somebody was crying—and—” I gasped desperately between each word.
“Shhhh,you’re okay,” he cooed in a hoarse growl, stroking a tear from my right cheek, “I’ll take care of this. They won’t get far, baby girl.They’re going to fucking pay for touching you.” His empty orbs blinked at the wet pink tint left on his claw from my blood.
Graysen took one last, long look at me before he bolted toward the alley. I felt alone, scared. I knew I should go back to the pub, but I couldn’t.Iwas the one with a knife. I abandoned him once in Eitrea, and I’d never do that again.
My legs barely managed a clumsy jog as I watched him disappear down the alley from a distance. There was the distinct“bang” of a door caving, the sound of the hinges meeting the ground reminiscent of our first night in his bed together. How badly I wanted to return to that moment.
The alleyway looked undisturbed, other than the puddle of blood by the open door. A chill crawled up my spine. One rainfall, and any evidence of my near demise would be washed away. Muffled voices came from the building. I followed them, my knife clutched tightly in my shaking fist. If there wasanychance Graysen was losing this battle, I would do what had to be done to protect him.
The glow of Graysen’s skin was the only light in the abandoned building. A bag of supplies spilled out across the dusty concrete floors. Rope. Weapons. Gloves. Bandages. Towels. Tubes. Odd shiny devices I’d never seen. It looked as though the Lychan had been attempting to dress their wounded hand when Graysen showed up. A strip of gauze was wrapped haphazardly through their remaining fingers. Streaks of red marked the floor where they had fumbled through the scattered contents of their sack, looking for aid sightlessly.
Graysen loomed over the large body curling into itself on the ground, hands raised to protect their head and neck. They seemed pathetic now, nowhere near the same menacing figure from a few minutes ago when my life had been in their hands.
“Who else is there?” Graysen snarled, kicking their stomach with his hefty black boot strong enough to elicit a yelp.
“Graysen.” My face twisted. “Leave them. I want to go home.” Tears streamed down my right cheek. My left eye stung as if to cry, but no tears flowed.
I didn’t recognize the gaze that turned in my direction. Those amber eyes that normally devoured me were cold and metallic. The sharp teeth that nibbled delicately at my flesh were primed to kill. The long black claws that delicately held thebow of my ribbon restraints were already dripping red onto the ground. The shadows of his golden, angular features made his face predatory, demonic, and grim. My demon of fire looked like an angel of death.
“Please,” the Lychan whimpered on the ground, blood running out of the corner of their lips. “Just kill me.”
Graysen’s head snapped back to his prey with bone-rattling tension. He kicked again, crimson spewed from their trembling lips. The Lychan’s eyes rolled back into their head, wet, drowning gasps sputtering out.
“Who else is there?!”
Fire flared to the ground, spilling across the concrete and catching the hem of the Lychan’s pants. They gargled a scream as it began to climb up their leg.
“Fuuuuuuuck!!!” Graysen roared as he watched them become consumed. He stomped out his own flames, not bothered by the sound of bone that crunched under him. “Tell me!!!”
Despite his attempts to stop the fire’s spread, it climbed higher, ruining any chance of getting a response. I turned my head away as Graysen bent over, followed by the sound of terrible ripping. I choked on the smoke filling the small space, the smell of burnt flesh branding itself into my memory forever. When I looked back briefly, the Lychan’s head tilted at an unnatural angle, their throat had been severed all the way through to the spine. The fire hadn't killed him. Graysen had.
Vomit came without warning. I stumbled, leaning against the wall, scrambling my way out the door in a desperate search for fresh air. The quiet night was a sharp contrast to the hell I’d just witnessed. Graysen had become a monster, murdering anddecapitating someone who could no longer fight back—because of me.
I tripped away from the puddle of congealing blood in the alley before collapsing against the side of the brick wall. I hugged my knees and sobbed, lurching as if my own body were trying to escape its skin. My eyes clenched closed, but they only saw the blinding light of fire and the rusty red of mutilation.
“Faeryn, my love.” The voice was cautious, apologetic, unnervingly calm after what I’d just witnessed.
I was afraid to look up. I didn’t want to see those chilling bronze orbs. I didn’t want his glow to illuminate the damageIhad done. Somewhere nearby, was a roughly severed finger. I couldn’t stomach the violent events that now tainted my limited existence. Surely, I would wake up from this nightmare, pinned under his gentle control and lulled back into reality by his calming voice. But, there was no white nothingness. No disembodied voice. Only excruciating, bloody detail. This was not a nightmare. This was real.
I shook my head, keeping my eyes closed and whimpering nonsense. I felt a tender hand stroke my cheek, and I hated myself for flinching. His hand withdrew, followed by a long pause where I could feel his gaze examining me. I tucked my head into my arms, desperate not to be perceived.
“I amsosorry,” his voice shook. “Let’s get you home.”
I was scooped into his arms effortlessly, hands curling into my chest. Maybe if I could make myself small enough, I could disappear. I turned my face into his shoulder to shut out the world, but instead of his comforting smoky scent, I was assaulted with the sickening smell of charred flesh and burnt fur. My beloved campfire was a sacrificial altar. Even the familiar cotton of his black dress shirt was repulsive as it stuck to my cheek, the source of dampness grotesquely clear.
My senses haunted me: the pain of my face, the sound of my blubbering, the stars speckling my left vision, the smell of carnage, the taste of blood. I focused on the only thing that brought me comfort; the gentle rock of every step as Graysen carried me to safety.
Still refusing to lift my head, I was confused when he stopped suddenly and banged on a door with his foot, his weight shifting under me. I thought the metal may cave in from the force and urgency with which he kicked.
