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“Ugh,” I grumbled at myself as I paused at the side of my car to dig through my bag for my keys.
It wasn’t until I felt hands grab me that all those lectures I’d heard over the years came barreling back to me.
About never being distracted, about being hyper-aware of your surroundings. About having your hands free, not full of books. About having your keys in your hand before you even exited a building. In case of eye-gouging situations, sure, but also so you could make a quick exit into your vehicle in case of an attack.
I failed on all those points.
I’d been distracted thinking about Bael. My hands were full. And there wasn’t a device I could use to gouge someone’s eyes out anywhere close to in my hand.
So when the hand yanked back hard on my ponytail, my only real defense mechanism was to scream.
And scream, I did.
I wouldn’t have thought I was capable. I’d always been kind of quiet and shy. It had taken so much practice to be able to speak in front of my classes.
But, as it would turn out, abject terror made you capable of more than you would have previously thought.
I screamed until my lungs and throat burned as the hand suddenly shoved forward, slamming the side of my head into my car, making my vision go in and out for a terrifying second before my brain stubbornly decided to keep me conscious.
As fingernails raked at my skin, though, I wasn’t entirely sure thatconsciouswas what I wanted to be when I was beingattacked, and was wholly incapable of defending myself against my assailant.
“Just take the purse!” I squeaked, trying to reach to yank it off my shoulder, planning on flinging it as far away from myself as possible, hoping he would go for that and leave me the hell alone.
“I don’t want your fucking purse, bitch,” a deep voice snarled, his hot breath on my ear as my whole front was shoved against my car so forcefully that I was finding it hard to pull in a proper breath, let alone try to scream again.
Then just as suddenly as I was pinned, I was released.
My greedy lungs had me pulling in a deep breath as my brain struggled to understand why I was suddenly free. But only for a moment.
Before I heard what I could only describe as a, well, growl. And not, you know, one of those sexy little growls guys make in romance novels or movies.
No.
This was a full-on, feral, animalistic sound.
It made my blood turn cold as I fought against the urge to just shuffle into my car, lock the doors, and never look, never see what could be making that sort of sound.
I mean, sure, there were wild animals everywhere. Even bears could happen into towns on occasion. But black bears. The kinds that wanted to eat your garbage, not your flesh.
And what were the chances that a hungry, flesh-eating black bear was just moseying down the street at the exact time I was getting attacked?
Slim to none.
Maybe I didn’t hear a growl.
Maybe it was just a new symptom to go along with the clumsiness and hearing laughing sounds.
Taking a steadying breath, I turned.
And there he was.
Not a hungry black bear.
But, somehow, no less ferocious as he lifted a man clear off the ground by his throat, leaving him dangling and flailing in the air as his face went bright red from the lack of oxygen.
Bael.
It was Bael.
