Wicked
Page 99
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
"You cannot fight me, little bird."
Now I was starting to get irked. Jumping to my feet, I spun, about to deliver one hell of an awesome roundhouse kick, but the prince popped out of existence and then his arms were around me. He lifted me off my feet like I was nothing but a small child troubling him.
"I no longer have any more patience," he said into my ear, sending an icy chill down my spine. "Or kindness left in me."
Oh damn.
Throwing my head back, I hit his chin, snapping his head to the side. The prince dropped me and my knees cracked off the floor. I lifted my head to find him standing directly in front of me.
Double damn on a Sunday.
There was no time to react. His hand was suddenly around my throat, and he lifted me clear off the floor. I swiped out with the stake, grazing his chest. Blood hissed out from the shallow wound, bubbling like lava.
Speaking in a language I didn't understand, he caught my wrist holding the stake and twisted until my hand opened despite my frantic attempt to hold on to it. The stake slipped from my grasp, falling harmlessly from my fingers, and then both hands were around my neck.
I'd taken my last breath before I realized it. Panicked, I kicked at him and clawed at his grip, but his fingers dug in deep. "Fly, little birdie."
I was suddenly soaring backward through the air. I hit one of the empty folding tables, toppling it over. I landed on the floor on my side, dragging in deep breaths around the pain lancing up and down my ribs.
Jesus, I could barely breathe through it. I pushed onto my forearms, my body trembling with the effort to stand. My chest felt too constricted as I lifted my head. One second he was across the room and the next he was right in front of me. Reaching around blindly, I grabbed a metal chair and swung, crying out as the pain in my side knocked the wind out of me.
"Please," the prince said, catching and ripping the chair out of my hands.
Blazing pain rushed across my jaw and the side of my face as I was served an epic backhand with a metal chair. I stumbled to the side, dropping to my knees. Blood pooled in my mouth, spilling out between my lips—my torn lip. Something—his foot?—slammed into my stomach, flipping me onto my back. Before I could taste the raw fear building in the back of my throat, the panic that surely came seconds before you knew you were in trouble, there was a flash of bright light behind my eyes as another wave of pain burst along my cheek.
I was going to die.
In that moment, the clarity of the situation rang out. Before, I believed I hadn't been afraid of dying but of living while everyone else perished around me, but I was wrong. A terror I never knew before rose like insidious smoke, choking me. I didn't want to die. Not now. Not when I'd just started to really live again. Not when I was falling for Ren, falling in—love? Oh God. The too little, too late realization cut deeper than the physical pain, lighting up my chest. Tears rushed my eyes, but I could barely see out of them as it was. They didn't seem to be working right.
Pain . . . pain was everywhere. With every breath I took it overloaded my senses. Something important inside me had come unhinged, split wide open. A searing hurt roared through me as I felt the prince kneel over me, his knees on either side of my body. I tried to lift my arms, but every nerve ending was firing in rebellion. A darkness clung to the edges of my consciousness, outlining the world around me in a smoggy haze. My tongue felt too heavy as the prince's blurry face came into view.
"You should've left when you had the chance, little bird." Disgust cloaked his tone, and then he leaned down, his face in mine. "I gave you the . . ." He trailed off, inhaling deeply, audibly.
I sensed that the prince had frozen above me, and then I felt his hand on my cheek. He raised it to his mouth, his fingers tipped in red. The encroaching darkness was spreading, but I thought . . . I thought he had tasted my blood, and that just put the fuckity in the fuck.
He jerked back, and I had the distinct impression that his skin had paled and then he was in my face again. "No," he said.
Then he made a sound that reminded me of a curse before whispering a word I didn't understand—a word that was English, but couldn't have been what I thought he'd said.
Reaching between us, he gripped the collar of my shirt with both hands and tore it open like it was made of tissue paper. My heart, weak and spent, stuttered as a different kind of panic set it. He placed his hand on the center of my chest, and his hand didn't roam, but his . . . his palm warmed and the heat scalded my skin, burning deep into the tissue and muscles. The strangest fire rushed through me.
A door somewhere burst open, wood splintering against the wall. There were shouts—some recognizable but sounding so very far away. The prince rose with a rush of chilled air. He seemed to collapse into himself, and where a man once stood, there was only a raven.
The creature spread its majestic wings, like two feathered arms. The raven rose to the ceiling, disappearing out of my sight, and that . . . that one word cycled over and over in my scattered thoughts as someone hit the ground next to me. The voices increased, and I thought that maybe it was Ren beside me, that maybe he was the one touching me so carefully, but all I could hear was that one word the prince had whispered.
Halfling.
Chapter Twenty Three
Time . . . time moved strangely for me. I had no real concept of it. All I became aware of at some point was that I'd been moved from the rough carpet and placed on something much softer. A bed maybe? Then I'd eventually heard a low beeping that was persistent, ticking away in the background—a heart monitor. Once I managed to open my eyes—my one eye actually—through my blurred vision I was able to make out the off-white drop ceiling and low lights. There was a distinct antiseptic scent permeating the air. Dumbly, I realized I must've been in a hospital, and if I was here instead of headquarters, then things were serious, but I was too tired to chase that thought.
Now I was starting to get irked. Jumping to my feet, I spun, about to deliver one hell of an awesome roundhouse kick, but the prince popped out of existence and then his arms were around me. He lifted me off my feet like I was nothing but a small child troubling him.
"I no longer have any more patience," he said into my ear, sending an icy chill down my spine. "Or kindness left in me."
Oh damn.
Throwing my head back, I hit his chin, snapping his head to the side. The prince dropped me and my knees cracked off the floor. I lifted my head to find him standing directly in front of me.
Double damn on a Sunday.
There was no time to react. His hand was suddenly around my throat, and he lifted me clear off the floor. I swiped out with the stake, grazing his chest. Blood hissed out from the shallow wound, bubbling like lava.
Speaking in a language I didn't understand, he caught my wrist holding the stake and twisted until my hand opened despite my frantic attempt to hold on to it. The stake slipped from my grasp, falling harmlessly from my fingers, and then both hands were around my neck.
I'd taken my last breath before I realized it. Panicked, I kicked at him and clawed at his grip, but his fingers dug in deep. "Fly, little birdie."
I was suddenly soaring backward through the air. I hit one of the empty folding tables, toppling it over. I landed on the floor on my side, dragging in deep breaths around the pain lancing up and down my ribs.
Jesus, I could barely breathe through it. I pushed onto my forearms, my body trembling with the effort to stand. My chest felt too constricted as I lifted my head. One second he was across the room and the next he was right in front of me. Reaching around blindly, I grabbed a metal chair and swung, crying out as the pain in my side knocked the wind out of me.
"Please," the prince said, catching and ripping the chair out of my hands.
Blazing pain rushed across my jaw and the side of my face as I was served an epic backhand with a metal chair. I stumbled to the side, dropping to my knees. Blood pooled in my mouth, spilling out between my lips—my torn lip. Something—his foot?—slammed into my stomach, flipping me onto my back. Before I could taste the raw fear building in the back of my throat, the panic that surely came seconds before you knew you were in trouble, there was a flash of bright light behind my eyes as another wave of pain burst along my cheek.
I was going to die.
In that moment, the clarity of the situation rang out. Before, I believed I hadn't been afraid of dying but of living while everyone else perished around me, but I was wrong. A terror I never knew before rose like insidious smoke, choking me. I didn't want to die. Not now. Not when I'd just started to really live again. Not when I was falling for Ren, falling in—love? Oh God. The too little, too late realization cut deeper than the physical pain, lighting up my chest. Tears rushed my eyes, but I could barely see out of them as it was. They didn't seem to be working right.
Pain . . . pain was everywhere. With every breath I took it overloaded my senses. Something important inside me had come unhinged, split wide open. A searing hurt roared through me as I felt the prince kneel over me, his knees on either side of my body. I tried to lift my arms, but every nerve ending was firing in rebellion. A darkness clung to the edges of my consciousness, outlining the world around me in a smoggy haze. My tongue felt too heavy as the prince's blurry face came into view.
"You should've left when you had the chance, little bird." Disgust cloaked his tone, and then he leaned down, his face in mine. "I gave you the . . ." He trailed off, inhaling deeply, audibly.
I sensed that the prince had frozen above me, and then I felt his hand on my cheek. He raised it to his mouth, his fingers tipped in red. The encroaching darkness was spreading, but I thought . . . I thought he had tasted my blood, and that just put the fuckity in the fuck.
He jerked back, and I had the distinct impression that his skin had paled and then he was in my face again. "No," he said.
Then he made a sound that reminded me of a curse before whispering a word I didn't understand—a word that was English, but couldn't have been what I thought he'd said.
Reaching between us, he gripped the collar of my shirt with both hands and tore it open like it was made of tissue paper. My heart, weak and spent, stuttered as a different kind of panic set it. He placed his hand on the center of my chest, and his hand didn't roam, but his . . . his palm warmed and the heat scalded my skin, burning deep into the tissue and muscles. The strangest fire rushed through me.
A door somewhere burst open, wood splintering against the wall. There were shouts—some recognizable but sounding so very far away. The prince rose with a rush of chilled air. He seemed to collapse into himself, and where a man once stood, there was only a raven.
The creature spread its majestic wings, like two feathered arms. The raven rose to the ceiling, disappearing out of my sight, and that . . . that one word cycled over and over in my scattered thoughts as someone hit the ground next to me. The voices increased, and I thought that maybe it was Ren beside me, that maybe he was the one touching me so carefully, but all I could hear was that one word the prince had whispered.
Halfling.
Chapter Twenty Three
Time . . . time moved strangely for me. I had no real concept of it. All I became aware of at some point was that I'd been moved from the rough carpet and placed on something much softer. A bed maybe? Then I'd eventually heard a low beeping that was persistent, ticking away in the background—a heart monitor. Once I managed to open my eyes—my one eye actually—through my blurred vision I was able to make out the off-white drop ceiling and low lights. There was a distinct antiseptic scent permeating the air. Dumbly, I realized I must've been in a hospital, and if I was here instead of headquarters, then things were serious, but I was too tired to chase that thought.
