Page 19 of In Violent Waves

No, this would not happen to her. The thread of power flared, and she pushed that thought away. These men would not take her maidenhead—or her soul.

Lyra fought harder. She would save herself—without losing herself to magic.

She swung wildly and ripped with her short nails at anything she could manage.

“A feisty one! Help me hold her,” Rupert grunted when she tore at the skin of his hand.

The thin man grabbed hold of her from behind, holding her still with astonishing strength.

He licked up the column of her neck. The feel of his tongue had a scream tearing out of her. His breath smelled putrid, like festering, rotten meat.

“Oh, I like it when they scream,” he moaned into her ear.

Lyra threw her head back, and with a satisfying thwack, he let go of her. The crisp night air pebbled her bare breasts, and she moved to escape.

A slinking sound had them all freezing.

Rupert stood frozen, holding the swathe of fabric that had made up the front of her dress.

Lyra blinked, and a blade protruded from his chest. The deepest crimson blood, nearly black, poured from him.

The shadow behind him rippled and pulled the blade out.

It grabbed Lyra by the arm, whirling her to its side.

Another swing had the blade cutting off the thin man’s head. A disgustingly wet thudding sound rang out as his body crumpled to the ground.

“Are you alright?” Wilder asked, sheathing his blade again.

He materialized from the shadows as if he had stepped through them. It took Lyra a moment to realizehe was the shadow. He had pulled up the hood of his cape and blended in with the night.

Lyra stood in shock and stared down at the corpses that he had cut down in the blink of an eye. She couldn’t move, other than the rapid movements of her bare chest with each breath.

Wilder coughed and peeled off his cape. He held it out to her, but when she didn’t move or acknowledge it anyway, he pressed it to her naked chest and tied it around her back for her.

“Legs, you still with me?”

When she didn’t respond, he leaned down. Looking into her eyes, he cupped her cheeks. “You’re in shock, but you will be okay. I’m here.”

Lyra couldn’t speak, couldn’t move on her own, as Wilder tugged her away from the humans he had murdered on her behalf. He had come for her—had saved her.

No one had ever saved her before.

She followed him willingly but told herself it was only because he was the lesser of two evils and that she had no other choice now. She couldn’t find her way back to the water, and she couldn’t survive with the mortals.

This was survival.

The mermaid was a fool.

A fool to think she could survive in these lands, in any lands alone. They walked in silence away from the corpses. She didn’t make a sound, didn’t ask a question, or point out anything she saw. And it unnerved Wilder.

Yes, she had been annoying before, but this was something else. This was trauma. He scanned her once more, opting to walk beside her now in case this was all a front and she planned on giving him the slip again.

When he had finally noticed her absence, he had never felt such anger or fear. He knew these woods, the terrifyingcreatures that wandered them, and the loathsome barbarians that had made this place their home.

This was the forest between worlds. Between the elf and human realms. His plan, now futile, had been to keep her scared of him so that she wouldn’t realize the dangerous line they were walking.

Her breath came out in quick pants, her eyes still widened. Her scent had changed, too. It was now drenched in fear. He felt a semblance of guilt. This was his doing, after all.