Beast of the Damned #2

* Chapter Fourteen*

One of my fav chapters of BOD.

~ TRISTAN ~

As the end of day one of the tournament draws to a close, the last match takes to the white sands of the coliseum. The sight of Talrek cloaked in battle armor draws Kinley to the edge of her seat. She has been relatively uninterested in the matches since all she can see is a transient glimpse of the sparring when it's at a standstill. What she has been most interested in, when she's not staring at me, is finding Zaidan. From here, she can't see him sitting by his mother on the covered vista.

The peppermint soaked rag Kinley has pulled out of her pocket eight times makes its ninth appearance. She holds it over her nose. This time forgetting to fake sneeze while her gaze stays trained on Talrek. The savage part of me tries to tear its way to the surface. It craves the blood of the vampire Kinley's assessing with a mixture of wonderment and unease. I have ten days to weaken the angel that lives within her. Ten days to keep Talrek's hands off what is mine.

"You called me Kinaley," Kinley speaks softly, keeping the rag cupped over her face as if it will keep those around us from hearing.

"I did no such thing. Now, sit back before you tip over the chair and I have to deal with the ramifications of your fragile skin tearing."

This makeshift platform Zaidan had the guards construct nothing more than rough timber planks with a canopy. The heart-shaped back of the red velvet chairs with midnight steel frames the single comfort to be found.

"You did. You called me Kinaley."

"Human, I would know if I called you by a different name."

I narrow my eyes into slits, a few of the surrounding vampires nearest the viewing platform next to the arena turning their attention toward Kinley. How Zaidan thought having a bleeding Kinley next to Warriors of the Damned was a good idea proves how foolish he is. All it would take is one strong current of air to rush her for there is no amount of peppermint oil that can mask the perfume of her cinnamon-spiced life force.

The solitary thing keeping the vampires by us in their seats and not snacking on Kinley's throat is my presence. They know I'll sever their heads before their fangs have a chance to finish elongating.

"Your voice was strange. You sounded like you but not you."

"If you don't quit pestering me, I will throw you into the arena and see how you fare with my warriors before you." I snap, taking my stand on the edge of the platform. The two warriors in the arena crouch into their starting battle stances.

The buzzing of my sword does little to calm me. It's a slip I can't afford to let happen again. No matter how much the Prince of Darkness's son's head needs to be chopped off.

The splat of a liquid hitting a somewhat forgiving surface burrows deep into my ear canal. My nostrils flare, burning as heat roars up from the pit of my stomach and exhales fumes that breed extreme thirst.

Drip...Drip...Drip...

I turn in time to see Kinley pulling the rag away from her face. She lets her nosebleed run unrestrained. It drips off her chin and splats onto the back of her hand as it rests on her lap. She stares intently at the drops of crimson. That's when I see it—tiny speckles of a glowing white substance infused with her blood.

I've watched Roarra consume Kinley three times. It's never easy. The step I'm planning to take to reach Kinley gets altered, the steel of my sword sparking against the battle-ax of the vampire Talrek is supposed to be facing. He bares his teeth at me, venom drooling from his fangs. There's no time to turn back to check on Kinley before a blazing white light at my backside shoots straight up into the heavens. If I didn't have my armor on, the white light would have shredded my clothes as it did the last time I witnessed Kinley being taken from me.