Page 4 of Fractured Fates
The man in black.
I’ve seen his picture often enough, and yet, that sense of familiarity swims through my mind a second time. Like I know him. Like we’ve met before.
“Enough,” he says. It’s not a question, but if he thinks I’m done, he’ll be sorely disappointed.
I’ve been running all my life. They’re not about to catch me now. Especially not him.
“I know who you are,” I spit. “And there’s no way in hell I’m coming with you.”
The side of his mouth lifts in a self-satisfied smirk. “We’ll see about that.”
Smug bastard. He may be known as the authorities’ number one enforcer; doesn’t mean he’s laying his hands on me this easily.
“Yeah, we’ll see,” I say, and I kick out his legs from underneath him.
His eyes widen with shock, and it would be frigging funny if I weren’t running for my life. I watch as the huge man topples like a felled tree and I’m on top of him in a heartbeat, the blade of my knife at his neck.
“Leave me the fuck alone!” I tell him.
He peers up at me with those bottomless eyes, dark and menacing, his chest heaving. He doesn’t speak, instead his eyes travel over my face in a way that has my cheeks warming. His body is solid as the trunk of a tree beneath me and I realize I’ve landed square on the man’s groin. It’s intimate. I can see the stretch of his ribs through the material of his clothes, the tremble of his lower lip as he huffs in air, the flair of his nostrils, the strange hue of his pale skin.
I’ve never been this close to a man before. I’ve lived all my life with my aunt. I never went to school. We’ve kept ourselves hidden. We kept the hell away from men who only ever wanted to harm us.
Men have been these distant, peculiar creatures, best avoided. I stare straight back at him, noticing the more angular features of his face, the thick stubble brush that runs over his jaw and neck, and the lump that bobs in his throat. His body is different too. Squarer, broader, his shoulders strong beneath his cloak, his body heavy.
That hook in my stomach tugs at me again, like it wants to drag me as close to him as it can. Like it wants me to press my smaller body against his larger frame.
The man is intriguing.
What the hell kind of magic is this?
I dig my knife more firmly into his neck, the silver blade pinching his skin and he swallows, his pink tongue coming to wet his lip.
“It’s not safe here,” he whispers, and I find myself caught by the movement of those lips. He hesitates for a moment before his hands find my calves. I should dig my blade into his throat for that. But his touch is electric. The sensation in my stomach spins like a whirlwind. I don’t move. My pulse jumps in my throat. His dark eyes flicker across my face. Carefully, as if he thinks I’ll bolt like a wild mare, he strokes his gloved hands up to my thighs. The friction of his movement sends more electricity spiraling across my skin.
He’s failed to bring me in by force. Is he now going to attempt to do so by seduction?
“I’ll keep you safe,” he says.
I want to close my eyes and believe him. It would be nice to be safe. It would be nice if someone kept me safe. This past year has been so hard. I’m tired. Tired of running and hiding. Tired of fighting and scrapping. Tired of trying to stay alive. Tired of being alone.
I force my eyes wide open and stare back at him.
Then I laugh bitterly. I won’t be safe with him. I won’t be safe with the authorities he works for. I won’t be safe with the gang of magicals out searching for me either. The only place I was ever safe was with my aunt. And she’s gone.
Resting my free palm on his chest, I lean right over him so our faces are only inches apart. His warm breath rushes over my skin and he smells of the forest.
His fingers sink into my thighs and his eyes darken, falling to my mouth.
My pulse quickens in my throat and the magic he’s weaving in my gut drags me closer to him still.
It would be so easy to fall into this spell.
“Fuck off!” I tell him, and before he can respond, I’ve sent a bolt of energy spearing straight into his chest. Then I’m up on my feet and sprinting away. I’m on my bike before he’s recovered, groaning and lumbering as he rolls up to stand.
I hear him shout out to me again, but I don’t hear his words over the roar of the engine, and I ignore the damned hook in my belly. The bike lurches forward and I speed off, hitting potholes and branches this time and not giving a shit, even as every wound in my body cries out in pain, even though my magic is depleted and my body shakes with exhaustion.
I escaped from the man in black.
