Sacred Scars (Book I)

Dark Angel

     He gave her no time to ponder on it, grabbing her ankles and yanking her flat across the bed. Arms and legs crawled over her like spiders, until he was forcing her head to turn away from the green stench of whiskey.

**

     Down the hall Marston had finally closed his eyes and his breathing had begun to rhythm into dreams. He was nearly asleep when the crack of wood against the wall startled him. His cautious dark eyes snapped open leading his trained outlaw ears to still and listen. He didn't move. A few doors down the thumps and bangs continued. At first, he relaxed, easing his furrowed brow back into closed eyes of exhaustion, just a maiden tumbling through the night with some unknown Joe. And then he heard it. Like the coo of a dove, a soft whimper, a cough and muffled curses floating through the paper-thin walls. He sat up reaching for his discarded gun belt, sliding it on silently. Standing from the bed on quiet feet, he soft stepped to the door and looked down the hallway. The door three rooms down issued the murky lamp light of the lantern flickering a soft butter glow through its cracked entrance. Ever so slowly he crept against the wall towards the now audible sounds of distress floating from the slitted doorway. He rested a hand on his pistol, and chanced a glance inside.

     The scene before him made his blood instantly boil. Across the bed a young lady, maybe mid-twenties, was pushed back under the brutish force of a gangly cowboy. The man's hat and shirt lay on the floor in a pile and his pants were unbuckled and unzipped. He held her throat in one hand and her arms above her head with the other. Spittle dripped down his unsightly chin of red fuzz. The girl's cheek was cut, and tiny tears of blood slithered down the blossoming bruise that rose there. Another ribbon of blood snaked from her mouth, and her wide eyes were green pinwheels of fear.

     John clenched his angled jaw, grinding his teeth. He may have been an outlaw, but he learned over the years that disrespecting a lady, no matter her station, was a character flaw he just could not tolerate. He was about to pull his gun when the sound of Wyatt Pinkerton barked laughter from the bar. He slid the half pulled pearl handle colt carefully back into the holster and turned his eyes back towards the door. A devilish smirk curled the corner of his thinned lips as he watched with fury. Alright then, fight it is.

**

     Lilah felt the man's wet paws reach under her dress and begin to slime their way to her inner thigh. She mouthed Emma's name voicelessly praying he would just let go for a second. Jesus, she really was in this time. This horrid life always brought rough sex, no tenderness but she had never seen danger, not like this. This beast of a man was a sadistic animal willing to tear her apart for the sheer pleasure of doing so. She closed her tired eyes. Why not. Just do it already, she thought. But as the darkness crept in, the door slammed open. She twisted only her eyes to catch the man in the doorway now standing every bit as menacing as the one that held her. In a glance she took in the dark clothing, the shoulder length midnight hair that feathered over one eye, and the unmistakably handsome set jaw branded with deep gashes on the right side of his face.

      With subdued awe, she watched as the man almost gracefully leapt into the room circling the bed like a cougar and grabbed the no-name 'john' with strong arms by the back of his neck ripping him off her in a powerful sling. " GET THE FUCK OFF ER!," he roared. The predator hit the wall stunned, falling to his ass looking up at him. Lilah scrambled into a ball by the headboard holding her throat and gasping as forced tears dripped across her chest. The stranger took only a moment to look at her almost lovingly making sure she was breathing, then turned on the man now beginning to stand from the floor. He leaned with the agility of a dancer grabbing the guy by his shoulder pulling him up right and drawing back to smash into his jaw with a long-fingered fist. Walking him backwards he punched him again and again, the cowboys face ticking back and forth with each blow like a metronome. Blood poured from his nose, mouth and eyes. The silly man even attempted a single swing, but the dark stranger caught his fist twisting it backwards sending a resonating crunch through the room. 'Red' screamed and slithered back holding his shattered arm. "You crazy son-of-a-bitch!" he yelled, backstepping towards the door. John placed himself between the girl and the piece of shit, arms raised and fisted, one foot in front of the other, a wolf's stance protecting his pack. "Get the HELL out, or I WILL SHOOT YOU IN THE GODDAMN FACE!" The battered man glanced evilly at Lilah and then watched as John held ready fingers over his gun with promise. "Fuck'n Cunt!" he cursed and spit blood on the floor leaving the two of them alone.

     John walked over, locked the door and snagged a chair turning its back to the knob propping it under it with a thud. When he determined it was secure, he turned to the girl sitting upright on the bed holding her wounded cheek. "Miss, are you al'rite?" The soft raspy tones of his voice questioned. He took a step forward but stopped, watching her instantly shrink away from him. Again, he approached crouching low, his palms out to her in surrender. "It's ok ma'am. I ain't gonna hurtcha." Slowly he moved to her inching sideways, raising his pistol from its holster, and setting it gently on the nightstand by the bed.

     Once placed, his hands went up again, creeping ever so slowly to the bed assessing her like a wounded animal. His weight pulled the bed down on one side, and he carefully reached out towards her face. Warm eyes never left hers, a soft chocolate study of calm reassurance as he moved. She was breathing like a caged bird. The cleft of her bosom heaving up and down in panicked gasps. Tenderly he slid a hand to her wounded cheek dwarfing the side of her face with his long fingers and running a caressing thumb across the bruised skin. "Shhh it's al'rite now. I won't let anyone hurt you k?" She blinked as if unable to understand plain English, but said not a word. He offered her another smokey smile, using his other hand to pull the raven strands of hair from her battered face. "You don't talk much do you pretty one?" he hummed at her quietly. She continued only to stare. Scooting his legs, he moved up beside her. Then stretched out, boots and all, and slid close next to her. Patting the bed near his hip he let go of her face and raised a long arm across the headboard summoning her near to him. "I know you don't know me, but you don't have to be afraid. Names John, John Marston. But I've a mind not to leave you this night darlin. I promise I won't touch you. I just want to lie near and keep you safe till morn'n. Will you let me do that?" His gravely words rolled over her like a warm blanket. She looked at him and at the door and back to him again, the unsurety of it all wavering in her eyes. "Now come on girl, if I was gonna hurtcha I'da done it already. Come over here an lay beside me. Please?" After a few more moments of indecision, she did as he asked, laying her head on his chest guided by his cupping hand and placed a tiny palm against him. He circled his muscled arm around her holding her close, tucking her under his wing like a baby chick, nuzzled against his shoulder. She felt him lean warm lips to the top of her head speaking in that resonating raspy whisper. "See? Not so bad huh?" He felt her shake her head this time, her heart beginning to calm. "Lilah." she said so quietly he almost missed it. "Lilah," he repeated, savoring the name on his lips. "You get some rest pretty girl. No more worries this night, ok?" She didn't fight him. This total stranger had surged a warmth through her to the bone. She let him pet her hair and watched as he crossed one boot over the other preparing to stay up all night if he had to to protect her. And for the first time in years, she closed her eyes and slept. Slept like tomorrow she would be writing her name of riches in some grand mansion, some grand valley, some grand where. Hopefully with this stranger's arms still around her.