I'll Protect You (Original Version)

Confessions of an iron-heart princess.

I knew very well about the amount of pride Cross had, and Darkwood seemed like the most second most stubborn person in the world (right after me, obviously). I stepped in before they started throwing some unnecessary punches.

"Ladies, ladies," I sighed, quickly stepping in between the both of them, "you're both very pretty."

"Shut up, Sparrow," the two of them snarled. Wow, I'm stuck between two nefarious robots. It seemed like the perfect sign for me to get the heck out of here before Cross started paying full attention to me.

Since their alpha wolf glowering began to return, I slowly tiptoed backwards, my mind set on finding an agent that could save me from my impending doom. I'll even settle for Six in this scenario--desperate times call for desperate measures.

On an unexpected note, something cold and wet wrapped itself around my wrist and roughly yanked me backwards; hard enough that I fell, right into someone's soggy black jacket. "Take Darkwood to the palace. I will personally escort the princess back home."

I gulped. Alec sent me an apprehensive glance as two agents seized his shoulders and marched him to the ledge, sending him down a newly tied ladder that other agents had recently created. I managed to give him a tight, grim smile before my newly found friend's head disappeared down the ledge.

A hand gripped my shoulder with an unbelievable strength that I actually winced. Yes, Park Sparrow actually felt pain inflicted by another human being. I know, I know, it's very strange. What if Logan wasn't actually human? What if he was a werewolf with werewolf-y strengths and now that he was angry, he couldn't conceal all that power anymore?

"Come on, princess," Logan said indifferently, dragging me away from the scene. He practically pushed me over the edge. The steps were wet and slippery, and at one point I lost my footing. I fell, and on instinct, my hand snatched out and grabbed onto a step.

The cut that had I had gained myself earlier sent intolerable spasms of pain up and down my arm. A cry escaped my lips--more like an inappropriate curse word.

"Dammit, Park!" Logan snapped as he reached out a hand. I stretched as much as I could, seriously, I did. But right as our fingertips touched, the pain became too much to bear and my arm acted on its own, letting go of the ladder and splashing into the water below.

As fast as I could, I fought the waves and pushed myself upwards. There was saltwater everywhere in my mouth. Oh, wait, not just my mouth--it was in my dang eyes as well. So that meant I couldn't say another wave crash over me, forcing me down under.

Oh, crap--I hadn't realized that I wasn't in shallow water either. The water had forced me farther away from the shore and more into the open. I was going to die, wasn't I?

Staying afloat had become incredibly difficult all of a sudden. The water kept on tossing me around, violent and unrelenting. Not to mention it was night time, and my eyes were having trouble adjusting to both the pitch darkness of water and the sky around me, having lost my night vision.

Just as my arms were morphing into solid blocks of lead, someone's arm snaked around my waist, pulling me away from the battle of tidal waves. I didn't even have to look up to know who it was. His identity was plain in his urgency, his uncontrollable fear at letting me go.

We stood up out of the water finally. Well, Logan did. The moment I tried standing up, my legs transformed into mounds of gelatin and I collapsed. Oops. If I was this uncoordinated when I washed up out of the ocean,  I couldn't wait to meet myself when I was drunk.

Logan caught me in a flash. He carried me, bridal-style, to the farthest part of the shore, where the sand met the wall of rocks that led to the cliffs up above. I hated being carried, and began wriggling like a fish on dry land.