Page 31 of Fake Fae-Ancée

Whoever this guy was — bird, human, paranormal, asshole — I hadn't fought my way through years of training, being insulted and spat on, getting up again and again and pushing on, fighting one monster after another, only to be sliced up by some cocky goth guy.

He gave another sneer before he attacked. His blade, black, pointed, deadly, cut through the air as he attacked.

Fuck! My sword was — still in Kalinin's penthouse. I had nothing to defend myself. In a desperate move, I yanked up my purse, held it in front of me like a makeshift shield. On instinct, I spun into a sidestep to redirect the blow. With a crunch, the blade cut through the beaded purse.

Gulping, I looked up. I had just barely managed to deflect the sword past my head. My opponent frowned. I yanked the purse in my hands, spun it like a steering wheel on a u-turn at full speed on the freeway. My opponent gasped. The blade spun along and slipped from the hands of my attacker. The weapon rotated deceptively slowly through the air. And I dove forward, ready to snatch the weapon by its hilt.

Plan of attack: Grab blade. Lunge. Put blade to attacker's neck. Ask what the hell was going on here. But the moment I got hold of the weapon, the moment my fingers touched the hilt of the sword, lightning white pain coursed through my arm as if I had grabbed a power line, ripping a scream from me that made my own ears ring.

The sword slipped out of my grip. I stumbled backwards, my body turning numb, my hand screaming with pain. My attacker didn’t wait, lunged and kicked me in the stomach. It was like being hit by a wall. Blackness washed over me. Gasping for air, I went down. Next thing I knew, a steel claw grabbed my head, pressing me face first into the muddy ground.

I tried to fight, but he was like a landslide on me, ramming his knees into my lower back and pinning me down like an animal he had just caught. But there was something else, some alien feeling invading my mind. That nauseous sensation of voidness washing over me again. Sputtering and fighting against his grip, I blinked.

Next to me in the mud lay that dark blade.

Witch-iron! The only metal no Fae-born could touch. It had been banned. Centuries ago. Weapons of that kind were highly illegal. And now I knew why. The weapon so close to me triggered a feeling like puking my guts out. Like being trapped alive in a coffin. Like fingernails being pulled out. I wanted to scream but had no breath left. Whoever my attacker was, I was in really bad shit. The blade held a dark, relentless pull, drawing my energy like a lethal magnet. Even worse, even more painful than the guy kneeling on my back.

"I cut you open, little Fae," the dark voice droned, croaky and triumphant. "Did you really think you'd escape me?"

He picked up the blade.

Fear plunged into me like lead. I wouldn’t get out of this. He would just gut me like a fish.

Checkmate.

Fabric tore in my back, cold air hitting my skin as he sliced my dress open. I winced, squirmed in his grip. The blade touched my skin like a hot iron. A white needle of pain darted through me. I cried out.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" The guy chuckled. "But someone patched you up yesterday, I see. Pointless, too, of course."

"What do you want?" I pressed out, squirming.

"My prize." His voice was a hiss. The hot bite of the sword burned between my shoulder blades, a pinpoint of agony. He would literally slice me open like a fish and I wouldn't even know why…

He cut.

Pain flashed through me. I yelped. Electricity crackled, coursed through my arm. The ring on my finger gave one violent pulse. A force field flared up, giving a deep sound like an ancient gong. Nox cried out, bounced off me. There was another crash, the air crackled some more. And then, silence.

I gasped, rolled onto my back in the dirt, panting. My opponent was glaring back at me from several meters away.

"What kind of devilry is this," he roared, coming staggering to his feet.

More on instinct then anything else, I crawled away from him, backwards on my elbows, mind racing. I had no idea what had just happened. But something had protected me. The ring on my finger burned and my arm felt like it had fended off the trunk of a tree, the aftermath of the magic that had just coursed through it still buzzing on my skin.

Nox's empty eyes zeroed in on the ring before I could hide it in my fist.

"That sneaky bastard," he hissed, tensing, baring his clawed hands. I winced as he darted forward.

A storm rushed over me before he could reach me. A rush of fur and angry roars and the smell of blood. My attacker was sent flying through the air, grabbed by the avalanche that had hit him, and went down with a thud several meters away.

Gasping, I straightened up, wiping dirt and mud from my face and eyes.

My attacker was on the ground. Kalinin's Bear form sat on top of him like a boulder of fur and bristling fury, pinning him down with a massive paw. Kalinin growled, chaps pulled up, deadly fangs exposed, nostrils flaring.

Damn, I had forgotten how fucking huge he was, all shifted. A deep, guttural growl made the hairs on the back of my neck stand upright.

"Back off!"

Yuri

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