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Dark Sonata Page 8


  Ezra wiped his mouth again and tilted his head at her.

  “I am leaving now, so don’t follow me, or else something dreadful will happen …” That sounded ridiculous, she wasn’t very good at installing fear.

  “So you have all of this worked out in your head, do you?” he asked and inched forward so smoothly she barely noticed.

  Think Victoria! “Y-you can’t use your powers, which puts me at an advantage.” She stammered, going off by what he said earlier, still having no idea what she was talking about.

  Ezra’s eyes sparkled. “You’re a clever girl.” He grinned, still inching her way. The way his shirt was ripped and how his breeches were sucked to his muscular thighs made him look like a rogue pirate. The way he was watching her made her skin tingle, her sensations were traitors. She should say ten Hail Marys.

  Victoria took a shaky breath, hoping she could stall him long enough to muster up another scream so she could make a run for it. Her body ached and her throat burned. You can do it, just relax and find your inner strength. She took a deep breath.

  Ezra narrowed his eyes at her. “Don’t do it love. If you think I can’t catch you without using my,” he smiled, “powers, then you’re very wrong. And, for what it's worth, your body is not strong enough for the force of energy you’re exerting.”

  “Go to Hell,” she hissed. “I'd rather die then.”

  His eyes flashed and in the next instant she felt him grab her, dragging her and flinging her into the hallway outside the ballroom.

  She was temporary stunned on how quickly he moved. Victoria stumbled a bit then regained her footing.

  “You want to leave? There’s the door,” he dared, his gaze watching her intently.

  They were facing each other, as if in a gun duel, each waiting for the other to make the first move. Ezra’s expression darkened and his eyes were intent on her. Victoria swallowed, knowing she had to make the first move. He was obviously fast, so she had to be faster.

  Act now. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath preparing to exert the same power as before.

  Victoria gasped as she felt the hard impact of him taking her down to the floor before she could scream. He had her on her back, his heavy body pinning her with shocking strength. She wheezed from the impact, kicking and squirming violently.

  He held her wrists with one hand and covered her mouth with the other. Ezra shouted something in a different language over his shoulder then looked back to her. “The less you fight the easier this will be.”

  Victoria squeezed her eyes shut, trying to think. He lifted his hips like he was going to get up and she seized the opportunity. With her knee she hit him hard in the groin, not knowing she possessed that kind of force. Ezra instantly released his hold on her mouth and hands, cringing in pain. He cursed loudly and clutched himself in shocking agony.

  Bingo!

  She screamed; the energy must have come from pure adrenaline. Ezra was thrown off of her … her mind was teetering in and out consciousness.

  Run! Get up!

  Her heart was drumming in her ears, she could feel her chest heaving as she sucked in air, desperate for oxygen. Victoria blindly pushed herself up and felt herself sway to the left, her body feeling like lead, her vision swimming.

  Nausea hit like a vicious wave crashing over her but she bit her lip hard, not letting her gag reflex kick in right now. Run! Her mind screamed at her over and over. She glanced behind and saw Ezra yelling something to his men.

  For one split second she locked eyes with Ezra’s and her heart dropped and came pounding back with force. Everything seemed to be moving in flashes, as if in slow motion. His penetrating glare was a warning not to flee if she valued her life. The challenge was there, deep in his stare.

  She never did what she was told. Backing up, she noticed that he was not charging after her like she thought he would, baffling her.

  He slowly got up, holding his hand out to ward off his men. Victoria frowned at him, her breathing coming in harsh rasps. He held up one hand and pointed towards the door.

  “Run if you can.” His dark voice seemed to echo in her mind.

  Damn it all to hell! Victoria turned on her heel barely dodging falling debris and ran as fast as her numb legs would take her. How she found the door that led outside was a damned miracle. If it was a chase he wanted then he was going to get one.

  She busted through the door almost knocking it off its hinges and sprinted outside. The elements instantly beat her down for the rain and wind hammered like pins and needles against her skin. Victoria wiped her eyes, taking off towards the forest’s edge. She followed a narrow trial that ran deep into the forest, a trail one would miss if they blinked twice. Her dress felt like it now weighed a ton, for it had soaked up all of the night’s rain.

  A streak of lightning flashed across the sky making her slip and she slid into an overgrown bush. Victoria screamed as she ripped her dress out of the confines of the thorns. Run! Don’t stop. Trying to catch her breath she pushed herself, praying they would just leave her be. Maybe she was not worth the trouble and they would prey on someone else. She glanced over her shoulder and saw nothing but the ominous darkness and the thrashing trees. She ran on, weaving though the dense forest.

  A branch whipped her in the face and something hooked her dress again, having to rip it out once more. She let out a shriek of anger, her fury boiling the blood in her veins. Just then a huge crash of thunder rumbled the land and vibrated her body to the core. The rain was making it difficult to judge where she was, even though growing up here she knew the forest well. But, she couldn’t tell left from right in the darkness with her disconnected thoughts and the rain pouring relentlessly.

  Something caught her eye to her left.

  No!

  Victoria gasped. Ezra was on a stallion weaving his way towards her, commanding his mount effortlessly in the dense forest. His white shirt was glowing in the dark of the night, his black hair gleaming blue with the rain. Panic hit her hard as she turned to sprint in the other direction.

  “Victoria! Stop!”

  Before she could tell him where he could go, she felt something snatch onto her torn gown, jerking her violently to the ground. Dazed, she looked up into the jaws of a beast she has never seen before. It looked like a cross between a wolf and a bear. Horror-stuck, all she could do was stare at its snarling jaws as the putrid saliva dripped off its razor sharp teeth.

  Right as the beast arched its back, ready for the kill Ezra was suddenly beside them. A long black whip gleamed in the night as Ezra raised it onto the air. A loud crack was heard as the whip circled around the beast’s neck, breaking it.

  Victoria crawled away in shock, her pulse jumping with each flash of lightning. She looked back to see Ezra staring after her, trying to control his black stallion, not making a move in her direction.

  The sound of thunder behind her instantly made her pause. Victoria gradually turned onto her hands and knees to peer at a raging waterfall, knowing now what a wrong turn she had taken.

  She was cornered.

  Victoria swallowed, slowly standing to gaze over the side of the cliff, the sound of the crashing water making her dizzy. Turning back around she saw Ezra dismounting, his men arriving to crowd behind him.

  This is it.

  Ezra ran his hands through his soaked hair as he walked towards her, eyeing her like a black panther.

  “Stop! O-or I will toss it over the cliff!” she screamed at him, dangling the choker threateningly, and getting dangerously close to the edge herself.

  Ezra stopped. He regarded her though the rain, his expression was dark. “And you think we could not retrieve it?”

  She stared at him, realizing the truth of his words. Why couldn’t they retrieve it?! They were super beings. Victoria wiped the rain from her face with her other hand, trying to think of something. “I will jump!”

  “You don’t even know what I need from you,” he said, the rain making him appear dangerously gor
geous.

  Victoria wanted to laugh at her wayward thoughts. She was about to commit suicide and all she could deduce from her muddled thoughts was how attractive he was. The man most likely wanted her soul, or something equal to it. Victoria laughed out loud, not being able to help herself, and gaining a puzzled look from him. “I guess you don’t need this then.” She flung the choker and started to giggle, feeling like she’d lost her bloody mind. The cold was surely numbing her brain.

  Ezra didn’t even flinch from her actions, his eyes never leaving hers.

  “I know what you want from me, Ezra!” she yelled through the rain, making sure to say his name this time. “You want to kiss me! You made that very clear and I want nothing of it! You are quite un—gently,” her mouth felt numb as well. “Ungentlemanly—I mean, meant to say!”

  Oh dear.

  It looked like his mouth was twitching, but she couldn’t be sure in the rain. God, the audacity … She wiped the rain from her face and tilted her chin up. “I’m g-going to jump, because I don’t want … anything to do with this evil because,” she paused in thought, “because I am a good person—a respectable Lady!” Well … let’s not get carried away. At this point she didn’t know what she wanted, only just to be done with it all. She glared at him, even if he was annoyingly handsome beyond rational reasoning. That was not the point. And for the love of God, why did his white shirt have to be sucked to him? Showing every ripple of muscle?

  Victoria gritted her teeth and inched backwards. Stay focused.

  “Victoria,” he breathed, holding up one hand, “I will not hurt you if you come with me,” he spoke loudly.

  Why did he say her name with such beautiful finesse? That angered her even more. Victoria swore and rubbed her face with her hands feeling very delirious. “I don’t believe you! You won’t hurt me? That sounds like a bad lie and you know it!”

  “You have no choice,” he said back, his voice sounding too close.

  When she wiped her eyes he was right in front of her. Her heart stopped for one frightening second, knowing she only had a moments time to react.

  She will admit that she didn’t think this childish act of rage through, but then again she had never been the one to look before she jumped … in this case, literally.

  Victoria turned and threw herself off the cliff, her heart in her throat. Her fleeting thought of, I’ll show him, was as deep as it ran. There were no warning bells of sanity, common sense, or the obvious concern that she would die. Her triumph would be short, and quite possibly he would still have the last laugh. Her body mangled at the bottom of the fall would only prove that she was an idiot of the first order.

  The feeling of being airborne was hard to describe, especially when she knew she was about to perish on the jagged rocks below. Her skin tingled with the sensation of being weightless, the wind whipping by her almost made it hard to catch her breath. But who needed to breathe when in a matter of moments her body would be destroyed in the most morbid sort of way. She’d probably haunt these cliffs for the rest of eternity, moaning and wailing in misery …

  Pain instantly erupted all over her body, but this was not what she was expecting. She didn’t come into contact with the unforgiving ground but … another solid force. Something large jerked her body upwards, giving her a powerful whiplash of pain. She screamed, feeling strong arms clamping her tightly. When her vision focused she lost her breath, not believing what she was witnessing.

  Sheer madness.

  She took in a shaky breath as her wide gaze clashed with Ezra’s silver ones. Victoria screamed again then realized that she was still airborne and not falling to her death. She shot her gaze back to Ezra on the verge of hyperventilation, her breathing being harsher by the second. Was she dead? Replaying distorted versions of her brutal death?

  “Calm yourself, you are safe,” he whispered against her neck. “You’re safe.”

  Victoria couldn’t talk or form rational words out of her mouth, for this was not adding up. She should be dead right now. Dead. Deceased. Killed!

  “I told you not to jump,” he reprimanded in a harsh tone breaking up her discombobulated thoughts.

  “You’re … you’re flying …” she stammered, shivering uncontrollably. “We are not falling because you are flying.” She looked and for the first time noticed enormous black wings on his back that were translucent. She shrieked, and started to thrash in his arms. “You’re a … you’re a …”

  He held her to him until she was done thrashing. “Demon,” he answered her into her neck. “You didn’t think I was going to let you fall, did you?” he asked while his lips moved over her cold skin to her jaw line. “This is the part you will not like.”

  “What part?” she breathed, holding onto him for dear life. His mouth was so hot on her skin, the waterfall soaking them both. She shivered and squinted at him as the water mist dripped down her face.

  “The part where I tell you to not ever tell me what I can’t have.” He said into the side of her face. “I can have anything I want,” he threatened, “and if I want you, I will have you.”

  Before she could react his mouth was on hers, hot and demanding. She tried to push him back, to fight him with all the power she had left, but she didn’t. Peculiarly, her mind vanished and went blank save for the luscious feel of his lips moving over hers. It was mind boggling how she wasn’t able to think, as if she were simple minded.

  This was more disturbing than her jumping over the cliff, in her opinion. He was the reason for her jumping, he’s the blame, not herself.

  He suddenly lifted his head to stare at her, the mist making little water droplets slide down his chiseled face. “Don’t ever forget what I just said.” He placed his hand over her mouth to silence her mean retort followed by a hard glare. “My fair lady, this might hurt.”

  Victoria felt like she was hit by something massive, then blackness.

  Chapter five

  Ireland

  “’n the merry month of May from me home I started, left the girls of Tuam so sad and broken hearted …” a ruddy faced man bellowed then stumbled to the left and disappeared into the dark alley.

  Ezra cursed as he held the unconscious Victoria to his side trying to hold her up like she was actually standing on her own. God’s teeth he was doing his best to shield her comatose face from the bustling population. “Aye, the wrench is drunk!” Ezra yelled and shrugged to a group of curious on-lookers, making them hoot and holler. A woman in the group was peering at him; fear was etched into her face. The lady apparently had her wits about her for it didn’t take much to see what he really was. This could not be fucking happening …

  They were found out.

  An emergency landing in Ireland was not part of Ezra’s plan, nor was being in this godforsaken place they called Dublin! The streets were crowded with drunken men; whores were standing outside brothels cooing to the passing people. Beggars and fiddlers swarmed the side streets in a mass of bad body odor and obnoxious laughter that sounded more like throat clearing. The sloppy music that penetrated the muggy air had the residents clapping and singing in their inebriated slurs and stumbling about in an attempt to dance. Being in the early hours, this was apparently prime time for this city. Ezra had to think fast; as it turned out, the Masters had sensed him when he used the Periculum to kill Gadreel in the library. How could he not have realized that? They were closing in fast, wanting to know what a demon was doing on Earth; and not just any demon.

  The drunken man made his appearance again and hooted louder this time, “Drank a pint of beer, me grief and tears to smother, then off to reap the corn, leave where I was born, cut a stout black thorn to banish ghosts and goblins!” he yelled then blindly stepped into a rusted pot, making him loose his fragile footing.

  Ezra growled in annoyance. Another man stumbled by him, appearing to be having a heated conversation with himself. Ezra quickly snatched the hat from off of the man’s head and put it on. He pulled the brim down so his pale eyes we
re in the darkness that the hat provided.

  On a positive note, the Masters did not know what he was up to, for if they had, they would have brought the entire Liorian army with them. He was only sensing scouts, possibly a couple Masters or Guardians called to spy on him. They had no idea he’d found Assiel’s daughter.

  He ordered the legion he was traveling with to return to the Underrealm, only leaving two of his men with him. Though this was not how he envisioned his plan of betrayal playing out, he still had the girl in his possession.

  Moray was probably now realizing his treachery and undoubtedly suspecting the worst. Which of course was the truth. It was almost laughable; he’d only wished that he could have seen the expression on Moray’s gaunt face when the general told him what Ezra had ordered. He commanded the legion to leave and the two he’d chosen to stay with him were both his cousins, half-breeds like himself. If that’s not the biggest fuck you then he wouldn’t know what was. Moray was not getting Assiel’s child—ever.

  “Ezra. Soon they be on us like flies to shit …” Sir Moorhead trailed off in thought, his beady eyes furrowed from intense reflection. “I will do a head count on the people ‘ere,” he said in a commanding tone.

  This was Moorhead, his cousin, or so it was said, but Ezra had his doubts. He was the biggest moron to ever walk this planet and not die from utter stupidity. He actually amazed him on more occasions than not. “Tiny, stop your bloody counting,” he hissed. Moorhead paused and looked back at him in disgust, as if Ezra was the stupid one.

  Moorhead was overweight with sunburned curly hair that always looked slightly wet for whatever reason. His clothes were always a size too small making his gut protrude, defying the laws of gravity. His hair and face were always disturbingly perfect, and he always smelled of bloody lemons! Moorhead’s demon father never gave him a name, so, ever since they were younger Ezra and his other cousin Elm had always called him Tiny.

  By the time they became of age with testosterone pumping strongly through their veins, Tiny wanted a real name for himself. So the moron came up with one that was worse, but funny to them. With the power of immaturity and adolescent humor, he conjured the name of Sir Craven Moorhead.