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No one was around, I was alone in the kitchen washing the dishes from supper. I could see people training through the window and I wondered why I wasn't out there with them to train, but then I remembered that I would be useless in a battle against a log. My aggression towards the pot I was scrubbing increased with every punch and kick I witnessed, scaling with the knowledge that I would never be allowed to train with them.

I was so concentrated on my scrubbing that I didn't notice when they walked in. I didn't notice them walk up behind me.  But I did notice when a clamped down on my shoulder and spun me around.

Brettly and Kieran stood before me, Brettly had his hand behind his back and they both had maniacal grins on their faces. It unsettled me greatly to see those faces, nothing good ever happened when they had that look on their face.

All my worse thoughts came true when Kieran wrapped his arms around my waist while trapping my arms in his tight grip. Brettly pulled his arm out from behind him and I started to thrash around in my brothers grasp.

Where the hell they got a silver dagger from I didn't know, but I knew that what they were planning was far worse than anything they had ever done before. The searing pain had me screaming and thrashing like I never done before in my life. No matter how much I struggled Brettly didn't ease up on the dagger, if anything it pressed harder into my skin.

As Kieran let go to me I crumpled to the ground, hot tears scorching down the open wound. The wound that would be there for the rest of my so-called life.


Something warm was pressing against my cheek, I didn't know what it was but it was nice. It was soft and comfortable and smelled like oranges and pine trees in winter. In my sleep idled state of mind I pressed my face further into it, hoping to get more comfort and fall back to sleep.

But that was when I heard it.

Thump... Thump.... Thump...

My eyes flew open and I sat up. When I looked down there were two things wrong.

1: I was in the bed. Was fairly certain I fell asleep on the floor.

2: there was a man in the bed beside me.

I scrambled away from him and fell off the side of the bed and onto the ground. A few swears slipped out of my mouth as my tail bone began to throb from the fall. When I looked up a pair of brown eyes were staring back at me from on top of the bed. His brown hair was mussed and his tan face looked tired yet completely perfect in a way. If I allowed myself to admit it he was incredibly handsome, if you liked the tall, dark, handsome and insanely muscular type, which I sadly do.

I scrambled away from the bed and my back hit the far wall so that there was a large space between us. I frankly didn't believe it was large enough, but it was all I had. He stared at me in confusion with his head cocked to the side and one sleek eyebrow raised. His hair tumbled across his face but made no move to change it.

"What are you doing?" he asked his voice deep and silky.

How the hell is he allowed to be this damn perfect?!?

"Me?" I asked, hiding the fact that I was right now imagining him in a sopping wet shirt climbing out of a pond. Dang you Jane Austen!! "You're the one that's in here without permission!"

He yawns, rolled onto his back and stretched out his arms and legs, which hung off the end of the bed by a good foot and a half. "Permission happens to be absent from my dictionary when speaking to rogues," he answered nonchalantly.

I scoffed and crossed my arms over my chest. "Well there is this thing called privacy. It means not breaking into my room in the middle of the night and sleeping with me. Not to mention I was perfectly happy on the floor."

Ivory Where stories live. Discover now