A Trio Of Tigers: Blood-arc Series, #1 - (BoyxBoyxBoyxBoy)

Chapter 8 - Words Of Beginnings

"You're not scared."

This time, the air around the space seemed to still as Mikkel spoke. Viking's head whirled to him in an instance, eyes unforgiving and hard.

Gunner shrugged dismissively, relaxing. "...Why should I be?"

Viking's eyebrows furrowed as he frowned.

With a questioning gaze, Viking struggled back onto his feet and blinked away the unsteadiness. For a few seconds, he swayed to and fro, but then grunted and came to a stop right in the front of Gunner. "You foolish human, we could kill you. You don't know the posi-!"

"Then kill me." Gunner snapped, eyes challenging. "Why don't you just fucking kill me and get it over with?"

Mikkel snarled at him, starting to pace behind Viking. With a feral growl, the man jumped forward. When he came to a stop, his eyes were sharp and murderous. Gunner froze in his spot, tensing up. With a snap, Mikkel bent down, arms shooting forward. Before the boy could react, the man's fingers tightened around his arm and pulled him forward. Yelping, Gunner flinched at the rough pull.

Mikkel's breath wafted past Gunner's cheek as the man leant down, his form towering above Gunner's. "Be careful of your words, human. You are weaker than we are, smaller and easy to snap. I can break every bone in your body if I wished to."

"Then break them... I may not be stronger than you, but I'll fight. And I may not kill you, but I'll be sure to make it hurt as hell." Gunner smirked back, pushing himself away from the man's grip. "Besides are you really going to kill me? You could have killed me long ago, but you didn't. I don't think you want to kill me, do you?"

The man bristled, eyes flaring at Gunner's words. He opened his mouth, but after a few silent moments only clamped his lips shut and moved backwards.

With a weak sigh, Gunner dropped back down onto the ground. Carefully, he turned and inspected the bite wound that was now stitched. There line zig-zagged across the cut in a messy line that splayed down his shoulder from the base of his neck, nestled right in the middle of his neck and shoulder. The blood was angry and crimson red. Drops of fresh blood was flowing down, underlined by previously dried blood that stayed in clumps on between the stitch lines. He skin was partially swollen, but the red glow on the skin around the stitches told him that it wasn't a bad thing.

His work wasn't sloppy either, but he wasn't trained either. After this thing healed, it was sure to leave an ugly uneven scar on him, not that it mattered really. Gunner already had multiple scars on him from years and years of running that led to injuries and cuts. He'd lost count of how many times someone had tried to stab him or shoot at him long ago. Gunner had never been one to care for appearance anyways. Bruises, broken bones and wounds would heal in the end. And as long as he tried his best to avoid confrontations like these, he would have no problem.

In the quiet of the room, as Gunner looked up from his seat in the corner, he was amazed by how breathtaking the three men looked. The air shifted, blowing cool light breezes past him and he shivered. Gunner cursed under his breath before moving to get another shirt out of his bagpack. Once he found the grey material, he pulled it on, wincing as the shirt slid over the wound. It was already wrapped under a layer of gauze and bandage to stop the bleeding for now, but Gunner knew he still needed a couple of painkillers to be able to move his arm properly.

Skaris stood a couple paces to the front of the boy, face hard with question and distrust. In the single light of the dark room, Skaris' hair flowed like a waterfall behind him, ending at just a little below the shoulders. White like snow, his hair framed his face, eyes holding a blue and yellow tint to them inside their depths.