7. Kael

7

KAEL

Chapter 7

Kael

T he town bustles beneath us as I land on a rooftop, setting Serena down gently. My blood still boils thinking of how she's been mistreated. No one touches what's mine. The very thought of it makes my stone skin feel like it's cracking with rage.

She fusses with her hair, smoothing it down. A blush creeps across her cheeks when she catches me watching. Damn if that doesn't do things to me. My eyes trace the curve of her neck, the way her new clothes hug her figure. I have to force myself to look away before I do something rash.

"You look fine," I growl, my voice rougher than I intend. "Stop fidgeting."

She drops her hands, looking almost sheepish. "Sorry, I just... I've never had nice clothes before. I want to look good in them."

My chest tightens, a mix of anger and something softer I'm not used to feeling. How dare they neglect her so. I want to tear apart everyone who's ever wronged her. "You do," I say, my tone softening just a fraction. I clear my throat, pushing down the unfamiliar emotions. "Now, where's this bastard who sold you? I've got a score to settle."

"The tavern, probably. He practically lived in the basement… That's where the gambling is."

I scan the streets below. "Which one?"

"The Drunken Dragon. It's got a green door."

Spotting the tavern, I scoop Serena up without warning. She yelps, instinctively clinging to my neck as I swoop down from our perch. The wind rushes past us, carrying her scent - a mix of fear and something else, something intoxicating.

Landing in a shadowy alley, I set her on her feet. She stumbles slightly, still dizzy from the flight, and I steady her with a hand on her waist. To my surprise, she leans into me, her warmth seeping through my stone-like skin. I wonder, a strange feeling stirring in my chest, does she actually like being mine? The thought pleases me more than it should, and I quickly push it aside.

It doesn't matter if she wants to be mine. She is. And yet… if she should so like to be… I wouldn't mind. The realization catches me off guard, and I scowl, trying to regain my usual stoic demeanor.

As we approach the tavern's green door, Serena hesitates, tugging at my arm. "Wait," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... I want to do something first."

I raise an eyebrow, curiosity getting the better of me. "What?"

She steps closer, her eyes fixed on mine as she rises on her toes. Her lips brush mine, soft and sweet, nothing like our previous encounters. This is... different. Gentle. Almost tender. When she pulls back, her eyes shine with an emotion I can't quite name, and for once, I'm at a loss for words.

"Thank you," she whispers. "For saving me. For... everything."

I'm stunned silent for a moment. Then I growl, pulling her flush against me. "You're mine," I remind her. "I take care of what's mine."

She smiles. "I know. Now let's go get that bastard."

I slam the tavern door open, the wood splintering under my strength. Pathetic humans scatter like roaches, but I pay them no mind. My focus is on Serena as she leads me to the basement.

The stench of stale ale and desperation assaults my nostrils as we descend. Dim, flickering light reveals several tables where fools gamble away what little they have left. Pitiful.

Serena squints, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. Suddenly, her body tenses. A flash of recognition, then fury, crosses her face. She's found him.

Before I can react, she's storming across the room. Her newfound confidence sends a surge of pride through me. That's my girl.

"You miserable piece of shit!" Serena's voice rings out, silencing the room.

A weaselly-looking man at one of the tables jumps, spilling his drink. "S-Serena? What are you-"

"What am I doing here? I should be dead, shouldn't I? Or worse!" She slams her hands on the table, scattering coins and cards. "You sold me off to clear your debts, and here you are, gambling it all away again!"

The man - Berand, I assume - scoffs. "It obviously wasn't so bad. You're alive, aren't you?"

"Not so bad? NOT SO BAD?" Serena's laugh is bitter, cutting. "You're a coward. A liar?. You're the scum of this world to throw away someone who never wronged you just to save your own pathetic skin."

I watch with growing fury as Berand stands, his face contorted in rage. The stench of cheap ale wafts from him, mixing with the sour odor of sweat and desperation that permeates this cesspit.

"You fucking bitch," he snarls, slamming his fist on the table. "You dare come here and make a scene?"

Serena doesn't flinch. Her spine straightens, and I feel a surge of pride.

"I dare because you sold me like cattle," she spits back.

Berand's lips curl into a sneer. "Sold you? I got rid of dead weight. You're nothing but a worthless slut."

His pathetic friends snicker, elbowing each other. My claws itch to rip their throats out.

"Selling you off was the best thing I ever did," Berand continues, emboldened by his audience. "My only mistake was not making sure you were dead."

Serena's face pales and she looks so small, so vulnerable, that she doesn't even flinch when the human raises his fist and slams it into her cheek.

But all I see is the red I'm about to paint these fucking walls with.