Page 103 of Bound By the Sleeper’s Harp

“You fucking bitch,” he hissed, examining his side. I heard the clank of metal, a dagger clattering to the ground. I clambered to my feet, ready to finish this. Time was up. I’d had enough of Luke fucking Portman.

35

Aflash of movement caught the corner of my eye. Bastian collided with Luke’s body, and I stumbled backwards, finding the wall again. My legs wobbled, and I leaned my weight against it, trembling. A fist flew, followed by a crunch. He had Luke on the ground in seconds, holding him down with one hand, punching him in the face over and over with the other.

My expression went slack, eyes growing wide at the sheer brutality of it.

“You hurt her,” Bastian ground out. “You hurt my fucking mate. How does that feel, hm? Taste of your own medicine? I should rip your fucking innards out,” he growled. “String you up with them. Peel your skin from your bones and fucking feed it to you, you piece of shit. How would you like that?”

Luke managed to get a grip on Bastian’s biceps and roll him over, probably with his added strength, but the victory was short-lived. He was still human, after all. Bastian had him pinned once more.

“Bastian,” I hissed, my skin prickling. His fist didn’t stop—like he didn’t even hear me. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. The sound made my stomach roil. Luke had it coming, and yet, I couldn’t stand to watch. I couldn’t look away, either. Soon, Luke’s pathetic gurgling whimper filled the air.

“Do you know what goblins do when their mates are threatened?” His voice was an inhuman growl.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

The breath fled my lungs. I shook my head like I was trying to rattle free the thoughts that stuck together.

Mate?

The word clanged around in my head. Everything else crumbled away, even the sickening sounds. A point found my throat—the point of a blade. I was dragged away from the wall. I didn’t fight it, barely registered that there were several other people filling in around us.

“Tell him to back off,” a voice growled in my ear, “Or I’ll slice your pretty neck right open.” A couple of people had filled in around us. Luke’s people.

“I…”

Mate.

No. I’d misheard.

“Tell him to back off or I’ll kill you,” the voice repeated.

Bastian froze. When his head turned, eerily slowly, his eyes fixed on the person behind me. There was nothing of the man I knew. Only pure, undiluted monster. Though his glamor held, his eyes were entirely black. The expression on his face when he saw the blade at my throat. The way he looked at my captor. It would have turned anyone’s bowels watery.

“I mean it,” my captor said, shakier this time. “I’ll kill⁠—”

The blaring whine of a siren erupted around us. Another joined it.

“We gotta get out of here, Tony,” a new voice said. Someone swore. The knife pressed more firmly against my throat. A bead of blood rolled down my skin.

Bastian’s black eyes darted to it, tracking it, then back to my captor’s face. "I will kill you for that.” His voice was a low promise.

"Boss won't be too happy if we leave him," Tony snapped, addressing whoever had suggested they leave Luke behind.

"I ain't getting nabbed by the cops," someone else hissed.

Blue and red flashing lights filled the alley behind me. Tony cursed and the knife disappeared. I blinked. Then they were gone, darting toward the far side and disappearing.

Bastian's eyes darted in the direction they'd fled. I could see the indecision playing out on his face—chase them down or stay with me. His jaw clenched, hands fisting at his sides, but he stayed put. A second later and his eyes turned green.

"Elle, baby," he took a series of hurried steps toward me, rushing over⁠—

“Hands above your head!” An authoritative voice filled the air. Spotlights fell on us. Bastian froze. “Hands where I can see them.”

My eyes were glued to Bastian. His chest rose and fell, heaving. But his eyes stayed on me, darting over my body, assessing. He lifted his hands, planted them behind his head, like he knew exactly where to put them. I, however, didn’t feel quite so confident. Limbs shaking, I lifted my hands too, but more in a half-hearted, awkward, upright position.

I looked down at Luke, unsure if I was relieved to see him still breathing. Part of me wished he was dead. And yet, what kind of person would that make me?