The Soldier's Hostage

Chapter Twenty-Five

I panted harshly. There was a stitch in my side and I was slowing out of my frenzied sprinting down dark streets, but I wasn't ready to stop yet. I had the irrational fear that Arthur was right behind me, hunting me down to pounce as soon as I gave up this foolish endeavor.

Finally, I had to stop. My legs were burning and my entire body was shaking, though the trembling was more my efforts not to break down and cry. I huffed and heaved as I ducked into the entrance of an alleyway, settling a hand against the wall and dropping my head. The run had shifted the despair into a low anger. Sort of at Arthur. It felt like he kept yanking my chains, tugging me closer just to drop the tension so I'd fall back again.

I couldn't blame him though. It was my own traitorous heart that had put us in this situation to begin with. If I had just continued to feel nothing but friendship... If I had moved on and fallen for a girl like normal...

Shaking my head, I shoved that away too. It was normal to fall for the person who took care of you. I knew that. It happened enough to have a name. Nightingale something or other. I just had to cut ties with Arthur and the feelings would fade.

I winced at the stabbing pain in my chest at that thought.

"Hey."

Raising my head, I peeked over my arm. I could just make out a figure standing in the shadows deeper in the alley. Male, I thought. I dropped my head again. "I'm fine. Leave me alone."

A harsh chuckle had me raising my head again. "Naw, man. I don't care what you're bitching about. I want your money. Now don't give me any trouble and just hand over your wallet. We'll be good."

I arched one brow. Ah. A mugging then. I shoved off the wall, dropping my arm and facing the man. "Don't have any." I eyed the small caliber pistol the man was pointing at me.

"Don't lie to me man."

"I'm not lying. I'm a kept man. I don't have a job, I don't pay for anything, I have nothing to call my own but my name. Sorry." I shrugged when the man blinked at me in surprise. He stuttered and fumbled for a moment.

"Where's your pimp then?"

I darkened with a frown. "I said kept man. Not prostitute. And you don't want to meet my benefactor. He's not particularly social."

The man was starting to lose his temper. He took an aggressive step towards me, raising the gun and displaying it like he thought I hadn't seen it before if I wasn't intimidated by it. I refused to flinch as he pushed it in my face. "Look you faggot ass bitch! If your 'benefactor' wants your brains in your head where they belong, then you're gonna give me all the money you got on ya."

I narrowed my eyes and moved fast, just like Arthur had taught me. The gun was knocked away from my face and I was halfway through disarming him when he got ripped away from me. I blinked into the darkness as the man struggled in a blind panic, his back pressed up against the wall and fighting with the clawed hand over his mouth and nose. His gaze, like mine, was fixed on the red glowing eyes and long fangs.

Dropping the gun in my hand, I jumped forward as Arthur leaned in towards the mugger, jaws opening. "Arthur, wait!" That red gaze slowly broke away from the man and turned on me. I had to swallow under the weight of it. He was terrifying. "Please, Arthur. Don't kill him." I winced at the acrid scent as the mugger pissed himself.

Arthur snarled. "He's brought it on himself. He's scum. I consume scum so it can't sully anything else."

I bit my lip. "Please."

"This is what I am!" I flinched, but Arthur continued, snapping and snarling inches from my face, attempting to drive me away. "I'm a monster, Tucker! You care for an illusionary front I shield myself with. I'm a killer and I'm good at it. You can't possibly fathom the amount of blood on my claws! And if you're not careful, yours will wet my fangs too!"