Page 91 of House of Crimson Hearts
Male then.Great.
And by the sounds, a big male. This is when I’m grateful to have Lincoln as a bestie. We’ve sparred so many times, I’ve learned how to use his body weight against him.
I scan where I am, how far it is to the courtyard where the exterior lights will turn on and I’ll get a better view of the attacker. It’s maybe thirty metres. Good job I have trainers on then.
I don’t think. I just move.
I bolt fast and unyielding, swinging my arms and pumping my legs at breakneck speed. But I hate running on grass. My ankles wobble, the uneven surface playing havoc with my balance.
“FUCK. COME HERE YOU LITTLE CUNT,” the voice rumbles behind me.
But I’m gone. Fuck stopping to see who it is because it’s definitely not Octavia. I skid onto the courtyard driveway, slipping on the gravel because of the speed I hit it with.
“Fuck,” I yelp as I tumble headfirst onto the ground. I tuck my head in and manage to spin into a roll and end up back on my feet. Thank you, hunter training. But my jumper rode up, and my sides are grazed and stinging.
The attacker charges across the grass, but even as he comes into the light, I can’t tell who it is. He’s wearing a black mask that fully covers everything save for his eyes and mouth. In which, I can see his dropped fangs.
Brilliant. So vampire then. Gods dammit, I’m really cursing myself for not bringing my stakes and blades.
I brace myself for the attack and keep stepping back until the front porch lights blare on. Bright spotlight beams fill the courtyard. The porch is only twenty metres or so away but there’s no time to reach it. Sweet Mother of Blood, the attacker is a big boy. His shoulders and biceps look more like balloons.
He sweeps onto the gravel, and I steady myself as he charges right into me, his fists swinging.
I block the attack and kick out with my foot.
But he senses it coming and leaps up and out of the way. As he crashes back to the gravel, he reaches out and grips my hair. Taking a fistful and yanking me forward and onto his other fist.
His knuckles slam into my ribs, and I groan as he socks all the air out of my lungs. He pulls back and swings again, smashing his fist into my ribs so hard I scream as I hear the bones crack beneath his power.
He lays a brutal series of punches on me. My face, my chest, my stomach. Bones splinter and crack under the assault. My face immediately bloodies. I can feel it dripping down my chin, my vision blurring where my eye swells. My jaw burning where it’s probably cracked if not broken.
I need to get out, get away before there isn’t enough of me left conscious to attack back.
I kick up, the movement causing a ricochet of pain to splinter up and through my chest. But I don’t care. This prick will kill me if he continues his attack at the ferocity he is. My foot makes contact with his balls, and he instantly releases me.
Good, stupid prick, I hope you’re impotent now.
Before he can gather himself, I reach up and grab his shoulders and yank him down as I drive my knee up and into his groin again and again.
Sure, it’s a low blow, but fuck this guy. Who the hell is he? Where the fuck did he come from and what the fuck does he want?
I can’t keep the kneeing up, though, my ribs are screaming. Despite the adrenaline suppressing the pain, I know something is really wrong inside me. As I cough, blood splatters over his jacket. Shit.
Internal bleeding.
That is not good.
He takes my hesitation as an opportunity to steal the upper hand. He drives his fist at me in a savage uppercut. It’s so vicious, I’m thrown several feet backwards and crash down to the gravel. The pain that lances through my face is excruciating. My jaw is broken for certain. Static and stars smatter my vision, everything goes dark and then I rear up, spitting blood on the floor.
My whole body is hot. I glance up, realising the sky is lightening. Thank the Mother of Blood, I have never been so happy to see dawn. I just need to keep myself away from him long enough that he has no choice but to flee.
“Suns up, fucker,” I splutter.
As he glances around at the sky, the glorious orange orb rises over the horizon. A melting pot of colour smears the clouds. Not enough to force him to leave, certainly not if he’s an old vampire, but enough that if he’s young, he’ll only have a few minutes to get to shade despite the fact he’s fully clothed and all his skin is covered. Either way, he doesn’t have long.
I snarl at him.
And he growls back. We’re like two dogs standing off against each other.
