Episode Twenty-Five The Fight

A lliana

Every one of my senses is on high alert as my mind works in a manner I've never experienced before. It's as if everything slows to half speed, then even slower. I hear every twig snap, every disrespectful word out of every evil mouth.

I can almost sync my breaths with Mirron's. At least I imagine so. It helps calm me, feeling he's with me even though he's across the clearing.

The men turn in my direction, still not smart enough to look up. Two are in front, one behind. I think the male at the rear is Bleeker.

My minotaur takes this moment to fire three arrows in rapid succession.

I'm not watching him. I'm taking my own aim, not even caring which bastard my arrow points at, just ensuring I have the best shot at the middle of their chest. Bleeker is directly under my tree, looking around as he consults the tracker on his comm. I don't have a good angle and there are too many branches in the way. I hold my fire.

Everything that was in slow motion speeds up so fast my brain has trouble tracking it. Two are on the ground, each with an arrow in his chest. One is writhing in the dirt and the other is still as death. The man standing is no longer looking in my direction. He's staring straight at Mirron.

Not even a second later, he fires his laser directly at my mate, who hits the ground so hard it's as if I can feel the concussion in my bones.

I stifle the cry that threatens to burst from my lips. Instead, as he steps toward the other two on the ground, I get a clear line of sight. Holding my breath, I pull my bowstring taut, kiss it, and let it fly. The bastard moves at just the wrong moment, changing my kill shot to merely grazing his upper arm.

Bleeker's head ricochets to me, taking only a second to point his laser directly at my chest.

"Come down this second, bitch," Bleeker says. "I'm at the end of my patience. If you aren't on your way down in one second, I'll kill you and tell your father you were dead when we got here. Now!"

Was it only an hour ago I'd been congratulating myself? Telling myself what a strong person I was? I'm not strong. I'm weak.

My gaze darts to Mirron, lying lifeless on the ground. My urge to kill, to burn down the world, evaporates, leaving only fear in its wake.

I descend, branch by branch, then feel dazed when my Mirron isn't there to catch me for that last ten-foot drop.

After I hit the ground with a thud, Bleeker grips my upper arm so tightly it will leave a bruise—if I live long enough. It's right where he bruised me two weeks ago.

He yanks me toward the other guards, not even bothering to take their pulse before he gives them each a kill shot to the head.

"Just putting you out of your misery," he mutters. "I can't believe these fucking monsters can use weapons, even primitive ones. The boss isn't going to like this."

He doesn't do more than give Mirron a quick glance. My male is clearly dead, with a jagged laser shot in his chest, the fur around it charred and blackened.

Bleeker turns his attention to me. "I never fucked you before because I didn't want to lose my job."

He motions with his chin in Mirron's vague direction. "I know one thing. If that big monster was protecting you, he wasn't doing it out of the goodness of his heart. He was getting some pussy. I declare your cunt officially open for business." He sneers at me, then says, "Get on the ground and spread ‘em."

I'm quaking. I'd forgotten what it was like to be so close to pure evil. It doesn't take long to bring me to heel.

After setting my beautiful handmade bow, made with love by my mate, onto the ground, I lie next to it. I barely notice my quiver is still slung across my back. Leaning up, I pull it off and as I do, the real Alliana reappears. The female who knows how to sew and cook and shoot an arrow. The female who can ask for what she wants and who knows how to say no.

I'm too close to effectively use my bow. I don't need to shoot an arrow, though. I can do this up close and personal.

Bleeker's eagerly fumbling with his pants. Not even the death of his two comrades overrides his desire to fuck me. Can't wait to pull your cock out to stab it into me, can you, Bleeker? Can't even wait to get to the hover where three pairs of sightless eyes aren't watching you defile me?

He pays no attention to the tiny, helpless female, the one he calls ugly, the one whose mate he just killed. No, he's turned away, rushing to reveal his pathetic human cock.

His elbow is moving in a rhythm I've seen dozens of times before. Men use it when their minds have decided to fuck the woman of their choice, but their cock isn't ready. He's stroking it to prepare it to hurt another woman in a long line of abuses he's perpetrated on people weaker than him.

Grabbing two arrows, arrows my mate Deklan made for me with care, I clutch them a few inches from their pointed tips, then press them between my arm and my side to hide them. His lips are pulled back in a sneer, his gaze on the juncture of my thighs. Good, because he pays no attention to the little surprise I have clenched in my grip.

My focus is on the artery in his neck. The place where Luka carefully instructed me was a very good kill-spot for larger mammals.

After he yanks my thighs apart and leans over me, I tighten my grip on the two arrows in my hand and jab with all my might.

Luka may be the youngest of the three, but he didn't steer me wrong. Blood spurts from the wound, shooting several feet in fascinating crimson pulses. Bleeker's eyes widen in shock. It takes him long seconds to understand what this little, pale female has done. Not one, but two arrows are killing him right now.

I look him in the eyes, unafraid that his last act might be to slap me or try to kill me.

"The monsters changed me, Bleeker. I'm not afraid, you motherfucker."

I didn't know I was capable of cruelty, but I twist the arrows to both hurt him and hasten his death.

"Know what I'm going to do?" I ask through clenched teeth when he slumps forward onto me. I push him off and roll him onto his back. "I'm going to get my mate's knife and come back over and take your teeny, tiny, little cock in one hand and cut it off."

His eyes widen as his lips flap, unable to form sounds into words.

"It's too small to do much with. Can't make a hat with it. Too short for a tie. Maybe I'll use your cock and balls for a little bag. Just nail it up where it will make me happy to see it every day."

I reach between his legs and twist his balls as hard as I can. It makes me sad he's too far gone to feel the pain.

I give one more twisting yank, then stand up to let him die alone so I can hurry to my minotaur's lifeless body.