by Athena Dore
“You should go”.
His voice was gruff, weary almost.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing – a cold. Just go”.
From where she was standing, she couldn’t see him tremble. Droplets of perspiration gathered on his forehead as he tried to restrain himself. Just a bit longer.
“I think you owe me an explanation first”.
Why wasn’t she leaving?
“Later. Please, Rochelle”.
He closed his eyes, trying to block her out but he could smell her: flowers and soap and nail polish. And a further, underlying scent that made his pulse quicken: human.
The soup was untouched but his appetite was awakened. He got up from the armchair. The blanket slid from his shoulders. He advanced towards her, aware of her every movement: the way her eyes widened in fear, her lips parted, her chest rose and fell, quicker and quicker, and how she stepped backwards, closer and closer to the bed.
Rochelle realised too late that her chance for escape had gone. She should have run left to the stairs and out of the basement, but instead, she had instinctively backed away from him. And now she was cornered.
In the dim light, two massive structures erupted from his back, ripping his shirt to shreds. Wings. They were harsh, angular and featherless, almost like a bat’s.
“Stay away” Rochelle cried, trying to cower away from him. There was still a distance between them. If she tried to run…
He shook off the remnants of his shirt. The rags flitted to the floor like dying butterflies, leaving behind his broad chest and abs that rippled like living marble.
He pounced, propelled forwards by his wings. Suddenly, she was lying on the bed and he was on top of her. Too close. She gasped. His hands gripped her wrists, so tightly she felt they were on fire. His breathing was rough and heavy and there was a hungry, predatory glint in his eyes.
“Xavier, please” she pleaded.
The Xavier she knew was in a different place. She couldn’t reach him.
The beast he had become lowered his head towards her. His hair brushed against her neck as he took her blouse between his teeth and pulled. The fabric tore easily, exposing her shoulder and part of her bra. His breath lashed against her bare skin for a moment, then, slowly, leisurely, he drew his tongue along the length of her neck.
She shuddered. This had to be a nightmare. If she willed herself awake, she’d wake up…
“Xavier”, she cried, “Snap out of it!” She tried to shake him, she twisted and writhed beneath him and tried even harder than before to throw him off but he was just too strong. The inevitable happened.
He bit her.
She screamed.
Barking reverberated off the walls, loud and insistent. Mindy was down in the basement. Xavier turned round, distracted. His hold on Rochelle’s wrists slackened. She tore one of them free and slashed her nails across his face. He howled. She reached for the hardback book on the table next to the bed. Her fingertips touched it but her thumb was too far away to pick it up. Come on, she willed herself, trying again. The book toppled onto the bed, just within her reach. She grabbed a fistful of pages and swung it upwards, smashing it against his head. One. Two. Three times.
Xavier shrank back and cried out again. He let go of her other wrist, bringing both arms up to protect his face. Finally free, Rochelle used all of her strength to throw him off her. He fell to the floor. She jumped off the bed and taking the book in both hands, she spun round and used the momentum to fling it into his abdomen. He doubled over. Blood trickled down his face.
He murmured something. Two syllables. It sounded like her name. He was coming to his senses, or was that wishful thinking?
“Ro…chelle…”
His hand reached out blindly in her general direction. She stepped on it and kicked him in the side. Mindy ran round the bed to her master, whimpering.
Rochelle turned to run for the stairs but suddenly, she didn’t feel so good.
She staggered across the room. She felt sick and her vision was growing hazier and hazier and darker and darker. She reached the stairs and clung to the railing for support. She wanted to run, she tried to run but she couldn’t. Instead, she took the stairs slowly. She felt hot. Cold beads of perspiration crept up on her brow. Her breathing came in rasps and she was trembling all over.
It took an age to reach the last step and each time, she thought she wasn’t going to make it. But if she stopped, she knew he would get her and she wouldn’t be able to fend him off the next time.
Forcing herself on to the door, she fumbled to open it. Her fingers were so weak, but with a final effort, she managed and stepped out into the night. Help she cried but it came out as an indistinct slur.
She fell on his lawn. She wanted to give up and lie there. For a few seconds, she did but then she stirred like a zombie awakening. At first she crawled in the damp grass, but then she stood up, disorientated. Where was she? She didn’t know what was happening. Memories of her last few moments were gone. She panicked. She stumbled forwards. The streetlights glared down on her, burning her eyes, burning her skin. Burning her chest? No, that was… She stopped and threw up, resting against a lamp post. It was as though she couldn’t stop. Her body shuddered.
She couldn’t go on. She took a few steps forward, doubled over. It was hard to breathe. She gasped for air but her breathing was too shallow. Her vision started to dim again. Blacker, blacker. She heard a whooshing sound, like wings and then she finally collapsed metres from her house.
~*~
Knight-in-Arms Series
Part Two: Trust
When Rochelle wakes up in Xavier’s mansion and finds out the truth about what he is and what he did to her, she is shocked and disgusted. Despite his apologies, she’ll never trust him again, and never forgive him.
However, forced to see him nearly every day, she realises she is still attracted to him and that their situation is not so clear-cut, especially when certain events throw her life in danger, and she finds she has to trust him to survive.
But how can she trust a man who tried to kill her once and is unable to stop himself doing so again?
Part Three: Demons
Part Four: Ultimatum
Copyright
Copyright © 2015 Athena Dore
The right of Athena Dore to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior permission in writing of the author, except for brief quotations featured in critical reviews, or certain other non-commercial purposes in accordance with copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. All characters and events in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.