Page 137 of The Knucker King

“God’s cock, John!” Avice yelled. “What in the hell are you doing with a Morgowr?!”

John, Trewoofe hissed. The one Avice had mentioned; the one who had betrayed her.

He crunched harder onto the Sidhe King’s neck.

“You are one to talk! Get him off Treth!” John spat back.

“He tried to kill me!” she growled. “And you lied to me. You told me you were seeing a fisherman!”

Trewoofe tensed as the Morgowr slowed his writhing. Everything narrowed to this moment. Gone were their shouts, the smell of the sea, and the crash of the waves.

There was only the kill.

Treth’s writhing slackened to twitching, and Trewoofe released the back of the Morgowr’s neck, ready to strike the final blow with a brutal bite.

A muffled voice.

“Trewoofe!”

Another muted shout.

“STOP!”

Just as he was about to lunge and slay the invading Sidhe King, something whacked him on the side of the head. Trewoofe snapped from his bloodlust and blinked dumbly down at the silver-stained sands. He lowered his crest at the sight of Avice. She was staring daggers up at him, her hands on her hips. John stood next to her; his fingers gripped his hair and his mouth was dropped open.

“Did you just throw a boot at me?!” Trewoofe asked incredulously.

The Morgowr twitched beneath him, and Trewoofe kept his constriction tight.

“I did!” Avice replied with a stomp of her foot. “I told you to stop and you did not listen to me.”

John stepped forward and bowed at the waist. “Please. Lord of the Underneath, King Trewoofe, Well King. I beg you to let Treth go.”

Trewoofe snarled and did not loosen his grip. “You did not have to throw a boot at me!” he snapped at Avice.

While it did not hurt, he was wounded by her action. He did not mean to ignore her; he simply did not hear her. Trewoofe was focused only on protecting his soul-bound and his Kingdom from the invading Sidhe King. It was his duty and purpose to keep Avice safe.

She softened then. “I am sorry. I was just trying to get you to stop. It was like you could not hear me.”

Trewoofe looked from Avice to John and back again. He peeled his lips back in frustration, exposing his fangs, and slowly loosened his constriction on the Morgowr. Every instinct screamed at him to finish the kill, to slaughter the Sidhe King who entered his territory and hurt his little witch.

He unwound himself from the Morgowr and dashed to her. Trewoofe looped his tail around her legs and pulled her to his flank. While the other Dragon was still here, he had to keep her close and safe, tucked closely to his scales. His chest tightened at the sight of a gash down her shin. The bright scarlet stained her skin, and her blood had dribbled onto the sands. He growled with his eyes fixated on the wound.

Avice dropped her gaze to her leg, and back to Trewoofe’s bloodied snout. “I am alright.”

Trewoofe licked up the gash, the wound stitching up in a blink, leaving a second pearlescent scar on her flesh. “You will not be ‘alright’ until he has left my Kingdom.”

John stood by the panting Morgowr’s head. “Treth?”

He opened one startling orange eye, the cut of the pupil narrowing in the light. “Are you well, fisher?”

John sobbed and ran his hands over Treth’s muscular cheek. “Am I well? Me? Look at you and your poor eye.” John reached over his muzzle and yanked the dagger free.

The squelch and shrieking roar had Trewoofe’s crest flaring bright red again. “If you do not want me to kill him” – his talons dug into the sand – “then we need to leave. Now.”

“Why do we need to—” She gasped as he scooped her up onto his snout. Her thighs straddled his muzzle, and her breasts were squashed up against his scales. Her face was lined with outrage. “Trewoofe!”

“I told you before. If Sidhe Kings meet, there is a fight and he hurt you,” he growled as he stomped up the beach in the direction of the cliffs. “If you want me to spare him then I need to be away from him.”