Siren - Hazel Grace Page 0,42

forearm.

The third man moves forward from behind him, trying to spear me in the stomach. Twisting out of his range to the side, I grip his pole and realize it’s covered in barnacles.

I can feel my flesh rip at the sharp edges of the little rock-looking creatures as I let go, when my face is knocked to the side by a hard hit.

Immediately, I’m yanked forward and lifted in the air. Fisting my hands, I slam them down on my enemy's shoulders twice before getting him to release me to my feet. Rather than wait on the other two’s next move, I snatch the man to my right by his neck and clobber my fist into his ribs. A grunt escapes his lips, and I catch movement behind me as I peer over my shoulder. My elbow catches another in his chest as I swing my head back to connect with another’s face—hopefully, a nose.

I feel a collision to my chest, but my adrenaline blinds me from anything else except killing these fools. This isn’t my first time being outnumbered and weaponless. Not my first ordeal where the odds were against me.

A strangled gurgle sounds behind me, but I don’t turn to look. I’m too busy hauling my fists in calculated movements between the two men in front of me. It’s not until one of them gets behind me that things start to take another turn.

Positioning his rod against my neck, he pulls back, attempting to choke me out while the barnacles dig and twist into my skin. Gripping the rod with one hand, trying to ignore the cuts on my palms, I thrust my free elbow back, trying to make contact with his body. Until I’m sucker punched in the stomach by one of his associates. My hold on the rod slips, allowing my enemy less tension to cave in my windpipe.

A flash of red appears in front of me followed by a pair of green eyes that are slitted and narrowed. The rod is suddenly ripped away from my throat, letting a faltered exhale leaves me lips.

“Duck.” I do as directed, leaning over to place my palms on my knees as I try to catch my breath as quickly as possible.

I hear rustling and grunts as I peer up to see that the man in front of me is holding Davina in his grasp up in the air.

I barrel toward them, kicking the man at the knee to cause him to loosen his grip so I can rip her out of his clutches. She comes out of his hold as I yank her behind me. As soon as she’s safely positioned, I’m on him, punch after punch until I can’t feel my knuckles anymore. Not until I feel small hands on my shoulder blades, silently telling me to stop.

It’s immediate, my reaction to her. I can still feel the blood pounding through my head, my lungs straining to trudge in air, but my brain, it doesn’t remember the fucker I was just beating to a pulp. It’s zeroed in on her, and being mixed with relief and pissed that she stepped in.

On my knees, straddling over one of her father’s guards, I stand to confront the female who thinks it’s her place to step into fights. However, the moment I peer down at her, I’m speechless at how innocent she looks. How easy it was for her to transform into a guiltless beauty when she just overpowered a man trying to kill me. Staring up at me like I am someone she wants to spare from a fate worse than death.

“You’re hurt,” she acknowledges, her gaze on my neck. “I’ll get someone—”

“What do you think you’re doing?” I snap, taking a step toward her. “You don’t step into a man’s brawl.”

“It was my brawl,” she retorts with a raised chin.

I point behind me. “I was the one in between three men. You just strolled by.”

“These are my men.”

“They’re your father’s men.”

“I think you mean ‘thank you’,” she offers.

I inch closer. “Listen, Blood. I don’t need saving. I don’t need your help. I don’t need your pretty little eyelashes blinking at me like this was just a normal day, doing normal ass things. Stay out of my way.”

I begin to turn on my heels to head back to my room until her hand grasps my forearm.

“You need to be looked at,” she drones softly. “You’re bleeding.”

The corner of my lips quirk. “You like to see me bleed, sweetheart. Besides