Chapter 4 Three More Monsters

He reached out.

I slapped his hand away. The smack echoed sharp and clear.

The armies below gasped.

He looked at his hand. He looked back at me. A slow, dangerous smirk curved the corner of his mouth. He was not angry. He was amused.

"You have fire," he murmured. "Good. You will need it."

"I need a doctor." My voice cracked. The dark spots in my vision grew larger, swallowing the edges of the gray sky.

"I am Vasilis," he said. "Alpha of the Northern Clans. You are in my territory now."

"I am in France," I lied to myself. "I am in Europe."

"You are in Aetherion."

I tried to take a deep breath to yell at him again, to demand an explanation, to force the universe to make sense. My lungs refused to expand. A sharp, piercing agony shot through my chest. Something inside me was broken. The pain radiated down my arms, turning my fingers numb.

The fire behind me snapped. A section of the cabin roof collapsed inward, sending a shower of sparks into the night air.

I flinched. The sudden movement was too much.

My knees buckled.

I waited for the harsh impact of the metal. I waited for the shattered glass to tear into my skin.

It never came.

Strong, thick arms wrapped around my waist. Vasilis moved faster than human eyes could track. One second he was standing two feet away, and the next, he had me pinned against his massive chest.

The impact knocked the remaining air from my lungs. I gasped, my hands flying up to grip his shoulders. The leather of his armor was coarse under my fingertips. He felt like a wall of solid stone. Heat radiated from his skin, a furnace in the chilling wind.

"I have you," he growled, pulling me flush against him.

I struggled. I pushed against his chest.

"Let go of me," I choked out.

"Stop fighting," he commanded. His grip tightened.

I glared up at him. I wanted to spit in his face.

But my body betrayed me. The pain eclipsed my rage. The throbbing in my head turned into a blinding white light. My fingers lost their grip on his armor, sliding down his chest.

"Who gave you the right..." I mumbled. My eyelids felt heavy, like they were made of lead.

"You fell into my arms, little bird," Vasilis said. His golden eyes locked onto mine. "That makes you mine to keep."

"I belong... to no one."

The words lacked their usual venom. They sounded like a plea.

Down in the valley, the trance broke. The silence shattered into a million pieces.

A roar erupted from the far side of the battlefield.

"Wolf!" a voice bellowed. It sounded like thunder. It shook the ground. "She does not belong to the beasts!"

I could not turn my head to look. The strength drained from my neck. My cheek rested against the scarred skin of Vasilis's chest. I heard his heart beating. It was a slow, steady, powerful rhythm. It sounded too loud. It sounded inhuman.

"Take one step off that metal, mutt," a different voice called out. This one was smooth, cold, and dripping with aristocratic malice. "And I will sever your head from your shoulders. The prophecy is mine."

Another voice joined the fray. This one echoed with a strange, chaotic harmony. It sounded like fire crackling over dry wood. "She belongs to the victor, gentlemen. And I am feeling quite victorious tonight."

Three men. Three monsters. All of them staking a claim on a woman they had never met. I was a prize to them. A trophy falling from the stars. My stomach churned with a sickening mix of dread and outrage. Men had tried to own me my entire life. Directors. Producers. Actors. Politicians. They all wanted the famous Victoria de Lamarre on their arm. They all wanted to put me in a cage and admire the view. I had crushed every single one of them. I had clawed my way to the top of the world to ensure no man would ever dictate my fate.

Vasilis snarled. The sound vibrated right through my bones. He shifted his stance, adjusting his grip on me. He tucked my head under his chin, shielding my body with his own. He positioned himself between me and the armies below.

"Try it, leech," Vasilis roared back.

The armies mobilized. The sound of thousands of boots stomping the mud returned. Swords were drawn. The screech of winged demons filled the air. The truce was over. They were going to kill each other.

They were going to kill each other over me.

I tried to keep my eyes open. I needed to plan my escape. A survivor did not close her eyes in a room full of predators. I had built an empire by outsmarting older, richer, crueler men. I could outsmart a horde of cosplaying freaks.

But the pain in my ribs spiked, stealing my breath. The edges of the world dissolved into pure black.

Vasilis looked down at me. His expression softened, just a fraction. He shifted one arm beneath my knees, lifting me off the ground with zero effort. I weighed nothing to him. I was a broken doll in the hands of a giant.

"Sleep," he ordered, his voice low and rumbling against my ear.

I wanted to argue. I wanted to tell him to go to hell.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. The darkness rushed in. The last thing I felt was the unnatural heat of the Werewolf Alpha, carrying me away from the burning wreckage of my life.