Episode Seven Battle to the Death

T hirty Minutes Earlier…

Lylah

Although I usually wake at dawn, the sun is high in the sky by the time I open my eyes. Hazlan is behind me, his downy wing covering me but doing little to shelter me from the cold.

Sharp pain screams through my body with every beat of my heart. Though I wished it was true, I never really believed the male's saliva could make me better, so it shouldn't surprise me that I feel as bad or worse than I did when I fell asleep.

One thing is certain, he wasn't tricking me. He warned me it might not work. Besides, even in his weakened condition, he could have taken me without my consent if he'd wanted to.

I've been taken by many men both Up Above and Down Below. Never so sweetly as what Hazlan did last night. He tried so hard not to hurt me. The story he told about being warm and safe and being affectionate during sex was a nice touch to help me manage the pain of our mating.

"You're awake?" he whispers.

"Mmm." My jaw aches, throbbing in time with my heart. I'm certain it will hurt if I try to speak.

"My saliva worked," he says.

Does he think I'm stupid? Is he trying to give me false hope? I'm certainly aware my body is still broken and wracked with pain.

"The spot where I bit you is well healed. The cuts on your back and bottom where his lashes were so harsh the skin was flayed, look untouched. It's just that… he did so much internal damage."

It's good to know he's not a liar, nor is he trying to shelter me from the truth. I've seldom been treated as an equal, as someone who possesses a brain. I like it.

"I fear you have one or more broken ribs, and who knows what else is punctured or bruised? In a way, you're lucky you're so cold. I think it has numbed some of your pain. Lylah…" He nuzzles the back of my neck. His breath feels warm and comforting as he stalls, protecting me from what he's going to say next.

I think I know what he's about to say. My imminent death is obvious. If I could speak, I'd say it for him so he doesn't have to deliver the bad news. His arm is around my waist, so I touch it, trying to tell him I already know, to somehow absolve him from having to tell me.

"Lylah, I fear you're not going to make it until tonight. There were times this morning your breathing was so shallow I worried you'd already died. I keep licking the blood that trickles from the side of your mouth, but it doesn't stop. Something is damaged inside you."

I stroke his hand, trying to tell him it's okay. I should force myself to speak, to tell him I'd prayed to escape the brutality of this lifetime, and that leaving my body won't be a hardship.

"Do you think your mate will relent? Take you to the compound's medic?"

"He's not my mate!" I seethe through gritted teeth, my voice barely more than a pained gasp. Although it's clear my jaw is broken and it was excruciating to say that, I'm not sorry I did. I don't want to die today as Joseph's mate. "I'm yours." I forced out the words, then squeeze his hand as hard as I can to emphasize my point.

As if my words summoned him, Joseph saunters by. He's almost six feet tall, but I don't have to strain to look up to see it's him. It's as if I can feel him, his anger, his air of superiority, as he approaches.

"Look at the lovebirds," he goads. "You'd rather have an animal, a monster, than a man? You deserve to die. Painfully."

He shoves the toe of his boot through the bars and connects with my shoulder. I hear the thud and feel the concussion, but am too cold to feel the pain. I grunt anyway, hoping my agony will give him the thrill he's looking for before he hurts either of us worse.

Every muscle in Hazlan's body coils, but he doesn't move. He's smart. He has little energy and doesn't want to give himself away.

"And you, lover boy? I thought you would have died days ago. I guess you'd be dead if my wife hadn't fed you."

He kicks me again, this time so hard the pain sears through me no matter how cold I am.

Hazlan leaps up so swiftly that his clawed fingers are around Joseph's throat before the man realizes the proudborn moved.

Tears squeeze from my eyes, freezing on their slide down my flesh. Within seconds, either Joseph or one of the dozen other guards in the yard are going to grab their pistols or shocksticks and then kill Hazlan.

If I thought it would do any good, I'd beg Hazlan to stop. Not to spare Joseph, but so the proudborn won't be killed. It's too late. Three men are running toward the cage. I guess Hazlan and Joseph are too close to each other for the humans to use their lasers. They'll have to hit Hazlan with their shocksticks, then shoot him.

I know we just met and I've barely exchanged any words with him, but I have so much affection for him. He's been so kind. My gut churns at the thought that these males are sure to kill him.

The sound of laser fire assaults my ears. It's not directed at Hazlan. It's lasers hitting metal. Suddenly, the scuffle here at the cage is forgotten as the cacophony of battle fills the air. There are threats, curses, the pounding of hooves, and the soft thwap of arrows flying through the air.

The three other humans run into battle as Hazlan still stands, his claws in Joseph's vulnerable flesh. Although it pains me to move, and there is a life-and-death battle raging around me, I lift enough to get a good look at the proudborn and my legal husband.

Hazlan has pulled Joseph's head, jamming it through the bars. He has the man's throat in his fanged mouth. The thick canines that pierced my shoulder last night as tenderly as he could are the opposite of gentle now.

Joseph has gripped his shockstick and is giving Hazlan a continuous shock to the gut. From the proudborn's deep roars of pain, his teeth still gripping Joseph's throat, the stick must be on its highest setting.

From between the bars of my apartment deck, I've watched shocks administered like this before. If it goes on long enough, it results in death, a very painful one.

The proudborn tips his head and bears down with all his might with Joseph's neck in his prodigious grip, effectively biting out Joseph's windpipe while at the same time he breaks the wrist holding the shockstick.

I'm an awful person, deserving of punishment, because the sound of sharp fangs piercing my wedded husband's flesh and his screams of agony are music to my ears. I thrill at the look of pain on his face, just as he thrilled last night when he kicked me hard enough to hear my bones crack for the crime of feeding a starving male.

I watch the light go out in Joseph's eyes and notice every movement as his lids shutter, his muscles go limp, and he collapses to the ground with a thud.

Hazlan staggers back into the center of our cell, facing away as he wipes his face with his upper arm, then returns his attention to me. After hurrying to my side, he grabs Joseph's laser pistol and shockstick through the bars. After gently pushing me into the corner, he sits in front of me, trying to shield me with his lion-like bulk as he scans the area.

Following his gaze, I realize more just happened than Joseph's well-deserved death. There's a battle raging. Hundreds of monsters have invaded the Works. I shouldn't call them monsters. That's what the men called them.

Hazlan is no monster. The monsters are the men who enslaved younglings of all species and forced them to work under brutal conditions.

Monsters are the men who sold my flesh and used me as if I was no more important than a house pet. No. That's not true. Less important than a house pet.

The invaders are killing every human who doesn't surrender by lying face down on the ground. Fear slices through me as I wonder if I'll survive.

"I'll die trying to keep you safe," Hazlan grits out as a centaur approaches with a beautiful white-haired elf on his back.