“No,” he said without sounding at all tired or strained and looked up. “This way.”
Amelia couldn’t believe it when he kicked in a fire exit door with a single blow of his booted foot and started leading her up the back stairs of an old building. Was he insane?
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” she ground the words out between breaths, trying to keep up with him as her legs began to flag. Running on the flat had been tiring enough. She wasn’t going to make it more than a few flights of steps without collapsing.
“The roof.”
Insane.
“Dead end,” she squeezed out. “We’ll be trapped.”
Panic sent her heart rocketing and she looked back down the dark stairwell, afraid that the men would be following them and would be faster than she was. Adrenaline kept her legs moving but each step was becoming increasingly difficult. At this rate, the men would catch her. She jogged her backside off most weekends and some weekday mornings in order to remain fit and healthy, but she had never been good at flat out running.
When she turned back to Marcus, he was looking at her, his eyes unusually bright in the low light.
“Trust me on this.” He paused on the next floor, not at all out of breath.
Amelia panted like a dog, her throat burning as she dragged in each breath, her breathing so loud that she couldn’t hear anything else. Were the men coming? She stared down the stairs and then looked across at Marcus. His eyes had to be a trick of the light but they were so vivid and bright, bluer than she had ever seen them.
“I need to get to the roof and then I can deal with the men.”
“As in, fight them?” Her expression turned to horror but Marcus just nodded.
“I said I would protect you, Amelia. I meant that.”
“You think they’re coming after me? Why? I dropped my bag. They’ve got what they’re after.”
The look in Marcus’s eyes said different. He knew they were coming. She didn’t want to know how he knew or why they were after her, but she did know that going with Marcus was her only option. She couldn’t fight the men alone. Perhaps when they reached the roof, they would find that the men hadn’t come after her at all and could escape another way.
Marcus grabbed her hand again and started running, his footsteps heavy on the staircase. Amelia stumbled after him, keeping up as best she could, her legs cramping and threatening to give out. A warm rush of air burst against her when he kicked the door to the roof open and the brightness of the light blinded her for a moment. She kept running with him, one hand clutched in his and the other trying to pin the skirt of her dress down.
Marcus stopped.
Her eyes adjusted.
The two men were standing a few metres in front of them, near the edge of the black tarred flat roof.
Impossible.
Amelia looked back at the door she had come out of with Marcus and then around her at the roof, her heart pounding and sweat trickling down her back, sticking her blue dress to her skin.
There weren’t any other routes onto the roof. No ladder or adjoining building. How had the men reached the roof before them?
“Marcus,” she said but the rest of her sentence died when she saw him.
He stood with his back to her, the warm breeze tousling his black hair, his broad shoulders relaxed as though he wasn’t facing two dangerous men.
But what stole her breath, what made her heart flutter in her throat, was his clothing.
Gone were his jeans and shirt and boots.
In their place was something she could only describe as armour but it seemed ridiculous that he would be wearing such a thing. The deep blue back plate shone like mother of pearl in the fading light of evening, reaching only mid-way down his back, and had two long slits over each shoulder blade. She could see his tattoos through them. Strips of armour in a similar material covered his backside like a short skirt but revealed the dark material beneath. His muscular thighs were bare and taut, exuding strength as he stood firm with one hand at his side and the other still clutching hers. The armour encased his bare forearms too, brilliant blue and edged with shining silver and decorated with rearing silver unicorns.
Amelia stared at him, head light and fuzzy, confused and unable to comprehend what she was seeing.
Marcus was wearing armour.
She looked around for his clothes, convinced it was a trick of some sort and he had somehow been wearing this incredible costume beneath his clothes, but she couldn’t see them and he hadn’t once let go of her hand.
His other hand moved at his side and her eyes widened as they fell on the short sword strapped there. He removed it from the sheath, the curved steel blade around the length of his forearm and hand combined, and held it down at his side.
“Leave,” he said and she wondered if he was speaking to her until she leaned to one side and looked past him.
Her eyes popped wide.
The two men had changed appearance too and this time she decided that she was hallucinating. The fear had gone to her head or perhaps she had passed out, because rather than two humans, she was looking at two human-shaped things with pitch-black skin and glowing red eyes. They were huge, at least three feet taller than before, and built like brick shit houses and both were staring intently at Marcus, lips peeled back in a sneer that revealed sharp red teeth.
Amelia felt faint but held it together. She couldn’t pass out in her own nightmare.
Or was it a dream?
Her gaze slid back to Marcus. He turned at the waist and looked over his shoulder at her, his face a mask of calm confidence, and released her wrist. He certainly looked like something out of a dream. A warrior. Otherworldly. Elementally masculine. She resisted her temptation to look at his body again and see the way his muscles twisted with him, full of strength and power. He would look beautiful if she stepped back and took him all in. Sexy as hell.
A chill settled on her skin.
Dangerous.
Amelia stepped back on instinct, distancing herself from him without thinking, and pain flashed in his vivid silver-blue eyes before he turned away.
Had she caused it by placing more distance between them? Her heart had made her feet move, afraid of what she was looking at and the knowledge that Marcus was dangerous. He had possibly killed a man in the street and looked as though he was going to kill these two men, or whatever they were. What insane world had she fallen into? Marcus had said to trust her. He had promised to protect her.
And she believed him.
She just couldn’t bring herself to believe what she was seeing.
Amelia flinched when Marcus flicked his left hand out at his side and the handle of the blade extended into a long staff that rivalled his six foot plus frame. The silver engraving that covered it reflected the dying sunlight.
She blinked and Marcus was gone. A boom shook the ground and a hot wave of air knocked her onto her backside. She sat there with her hands pressed into the tacky tar roof on either side of her thighs, staring, unable to take her eyes off the battle happening right before her.
Marcus was fighting.
For her.
The two black creatures snarled and evaded Marcus as he swept around them, his spear gleaming brightly as it cut through the air bare inches from his enemies. The creatures gained ground and then reached out at their sides. Dark swords materialised in their hands. She was going crazy. She had never dreamed of battles before but this couldn’t be real. It just couldn’t be.
Her heart leapt in her chest when one of the creatures slashed at Marcus, forcing him back into the other one. He turned in time to block its attack with his spear but it caught him hard across the jaw with its bare fist, sending him tumbling across the roof. He shot to his feet, launched himself through the air at the beast, and brought his spear down in a swift arc that cut straight through its arm, tearing an ungodly shriek from the creature. The wound poured with blood, creating a slick river down the creature’s bare black le
g, but it didn’t stop the fight. The other monster attacked Marcus and he leapt backwards, high in the air, and then drew another blade from his waist. It was the same as the spear had been at first, a short handle with a long gleaming curved blade, but he didn’t extend this one. He slashed at the creatures with it, driving them backwards.
Amelia struggled to her feet, pulse pounding and stomach turning whenever the monsters managed to get close to Marcus. He was incredible as he fought, both violent and graceful, his movements swift and fierce, and aim true. He sliced down the back of one of the beasts and then turned and brought the spear up again, twisting it at the same time so he could cut through the second beast’s chest. It snarled and then roared, and the sound deafened her. She covered her ears and then shook her head when the beast with the cut arm and back turned her way.
It thundered towards her, heavy footfalls shaking the roof, and her heart felt as though it was going to explode or stop.
Before it could reach her, Marcus was in front of her, his right hand pressed against her stomach, forcing her backwards. He yelled and pushed forwards with the spear, and everything slowed down as it sliced straight into the monster’s stomach. Marcus didn’t stop. He pressed on, his hand leaving her and revealing a hot patch where it had touched, and she could only stare as the staff of his spear shortened again and he tugged it free of the creature’s body, twirled and hacked its head off.
“Keep back,” Marcus said in a thick growling voice and launched himself forwards.
He shot towards the other black creature at the opposite end of the roof, his spear extending again.
Amelia didn’t take her eyes off the monster in front of her. It dropped slowly to its knees, one scaly clawed hand still pressed against the wound in its stomach, and hit the tar roof and collapsed forwards. A pool of blood spread outwards from the neck and she looked down, following it, the world silent as her gaze tracked its slow progression towards her feet. She couldn’t move. She wanted to step back, out of the path of the blood, but her legs wouldn’t cooperate. The slick liquid touched the toes of her cream summer shoes and edged around it, engulfing them. Bile burned up her throat and she swallowed it down, unwilling to be sick even at the sight of such horror.
Marcus yelled and her attention shot back to him. He was fighting the remaining creature, doing all he could to protect her just as he had promised. Blood marred his pale skin and his armour, and his movements were slowing, clumsy now and scaring her. Fear for her own safety became fear for Marcus’s as she watched the fight, unable to tear her eyes away from him, her blood rushing through her head and heart quaking in her chest.
It leapt to her throat when the black beast turned, bringing its sword swiftly upwards and cutting across Marcus’s thigh. His knee hit the roof and he blocked the next slash of the creature’s sword with the armour around his forearm. The sharp metallic ring shot through her, turning her insides, pushing her fear to the limit. Marcus yelled and thrust upwards with his forearm, forcing the beast backwards and gaining more room but Amelia feared that it wouldn’t be enough. He was tiring and the creature showed no sign of stopping.
Marcus dragged the blade of his spear across the roof, scarring the black tar, and lashed out with it. The attack missed but forced the creature away. Marcus breathed hard, held his right hand out towards the creature, and vivid white light shot down from the sky, engulfing it. The beast roared and snarled, clawed at the beam as though it was a tangible thing that it could attack, and then rose into the air and disappeared.
Amelia stared up at the sky, breathing fast and shallow, on the verge of collapse. Heavy footsteps echoed in her ears and the sounds of the world started to return. She brought her gaze downwards.
Marcus slowly walked towards her across the roof, blood sprayed across his blue chest armour and face, smeared on his bare shoulders and thighs. She told herself not to go to him, that he was as dangerous as the monsters that had attacked her, but the weariness in his expression and in his eyes forced her to move. She stepped past the body of the fallen creature and hurried towards him. The warmth that filled his eyes when they fell on her heated her through and chased away her fear. She wanted to throw her arms around his shoulders and cry with relief that it was over and he was safe. She stopped short of him instead, afraid for once of doing what she wanted. Whatever had just happened, it had been real.
Marcus had saved her from men that had been monsters.
He sheathed the two blades at his waist, closed his eyes and hung his head as he drew a deep breath. The weariness written across every inch of him called to her, told her to go to him and soothe his pain, to give him respite and comfort. She looked at his thigh and the long gash there, and the ribbons of blood that trailed down from it towards the armour that protected his shin. The sight of the wound made her take a step forwards but she still hesitated, fearing that she was making a terrible mistake and that she had been right about Marcus. He was another black knight. A man more dangerous than any before him.
And she was afraid of losing her heart to him.
He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, clearing away the beads of sweat gathered there and pushing his black hair out of his face, and then looked at her.
“Are you alright?” he said.
How could he ask her such a thing when he was hurt because of her, when he’d had to fight those foul things to protect her? Why? Tears welled up but she sniffed them back. She was stronger than this, made of sterner stuff that could withstand whatever life threw at her.
Even this.
Marcus reached out and she didn’t flinch as he smoothed his fingers across her cheek as though wiping something away. She leaned into his touch and the hurt in his eyes lifted again, until he looked almost as he had done last night when they had kissed. Happy? She had felt happy in that moment too and she wanted to feel that again.
She didn’t want to feel scared, not of those things that had tried to hurt her or of Marcus.
He had protected her, had fought for her, but she couldn’t look at him without feeling a lingering trace of fear.
She would overcome it. Marcus had done nothing to deserve her fear. He had done everything to deserve her trust. She was stronger than this. She was.
Her legs betrayed her and her knees gave out. She didn’t hit the floor. Marcus’s arm was around her in an instant, strong and steady against her back, supporting her and holding her pressed against his body. She felt the wet slide of blood on her leg where his touched it, and felt the granite hardness of his armour against her chest, and the warmth of his skin on her side where his arm curled protectively around her.
Amelia stared up into his silver-blue eyes, amazed and transfixed as the darker flecks of blue in them moved and his irises brightened again.
“Amelia?” he said thickly and she melted into him, her strength leaving her, and couldn’t stop the tears from escaping. A pained look crossed his face as his gaze tracked them over her cheeks and then it softened as he gently wiped them away. “Are you alright?”
She nodded mutely even though she wasn’t sure if she was alright. She was alive, and so was he, and right now that was all that mattered to her. He wasn’t something to fear. He had saved her and she was safe with him.
“We have to leave… I know this is a lot for you to take in, but we are not safe here.” His words brought with them a flash of the man they had left in the alley.
Wasn’t he dead?
She didn’t want Marcus to fight another one of those things.
Amelia nodded again. He was right. They had to leave. But how?
She looked at the roof exit. The man would come that way, wouldn’t he? The others hadn’t. They had been here waiting for her and Marcus. How?
Marcus shocked her back to reality when he bent, slid his other arm under the crook of her knees, and lifted her. Her arms instantly looped around his neck, fear of falling chasing away the madness of everything that had happened for a sweet brief moment before
it came crashing back again. She stared at Marcus, trying to force herself to see him as he was. A man wearing armour, bloodied from his battle against two monsters. A warrior who had protected her.
“Trust me, Amelia,” he whispered so close to her face that his warm breath fanned her neck and she looked at him, deep into his eyes, seeing only hope in them.
“I do,” she said in a low voice and then wasn’t sure it had been the right thing to say when he ran towards the edge of the roof and leapt off.
Amelia’s eyes slowly widened as they hurtled towards the roof of the next building over fifty feet below them and she dug her fingers into Marcus’s hair, holding on for dear life. She opened her mouth to let out a scream and curled up, bracing for impact. Was this how her short life was going to end?
She turned to face Marcus and his gaze met hers, expression awkward and bordering on irritated. Not the sort of face she had expected from a man about to die.
They hit the roof.
Rather than the collision she had braced for, it felt more like Marcus had jumped barely a few feet. He landed in a crouch with her tucked as close to his chest as his blue armour allowed, and then stood. Her heart slowly came unstuck from the back of her throat and dropped into her chest, and she stared back up at the roof of the building he had leapt from, unable to believe they had fallen so far without injury.
Something in Marcus’s eyes said that he hadn’t expected that to happen either. He looked over his shoulder at the back of his armour, frowned, and turned to her. There was worry in his eyes that hadn’t been there during the battle on the roof or their escape from the alley.
“Is something wrong?” she said and his silence and the confusion mixing with the fear in his eyes told her there was.
Amelia looked at his shoulders, remembering the two long slits in the back of his armour.
He hadn’t expected to fall.
Just what had he expected to happen?
Her Guardian Angel Page 8