|| WATTPAD FEATURED STORY ||
|| WATTY'S 2018 SHORTLISTED ||
Zora was only a little girl when her mother raked out her left eye. A mauled princess, she is alive only because of her political marriage potential. In a world where misogyny reigns, there...
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Zora wasn't just going to leave the guy lying there. Besides, she smelled a storm coming, and nobody liked waking up soaked. First, his wounds. She swallowed, her mouth going dry. She'd never seen so much blood in her life. It was smeared all over him, sickening yet a hauntingly beautiful shade of deep red.
He had a few bruises and cuts across his jaw and there was a deeper slice across the back of his shoulder. However, the worst was the terrible yawning gash by his ribs. Considering he was still breathing, whoever had injured him had missed all the major organs.
"You are one damn lucky fellow," she muttered under her breath as she bent down, sliding off his boots and leaving him barefoot. She shoved her own unadorned feet into the foots, nearly sighing at the warmth it gave.
After a moment's hesitation, she tore off the hem of her ragged dress and tried wrapping his abdomen as best as she could.
Zora grasped him by the arms and tugged with what little strength remained.
The young man didn't budge. She pulled again and succeeded in gaining a grand total of an inch.
By the time they'd moved about a foot, Zora was already out of breath. Heavenly stars, he was heavy, considering he was so slim. Most of the weight must be muscle.
His facial features twitched, and she broke into a smile. Good; if he were awake, he could at least help shoulder some of his own weight.
"You're awake –" she began but ended her sentence with a shriek. The next thing Zora knew, she was flat on her back, staring into smoldering eyes the color of molten gold. She gasped, her palms against his chest, trying to shove him off her. Despite his weakened state, his grip was strong, and it didn't help that Zora was already lighter than the average girl.
He was so close. Damp red hair clung to his skin, and his breathing came in rasps. Large, callused hands pinned down her arms as she squirmed beneath him. "Get off!" she panted.
Those glowing amber eyes drifted down to her neck, and he bent forward, lips parting. Zora blinked in astonishment at a few details she'd failed to notice: a pair of sharp fangs.
The stories she'd heard as a child flooded back. Fangs sharper than the mythical sword Dyvoark.
Those fangs were lowering themselves to the pulse throbbing in her neck. She flailed harder, and managed to break one arm free of the Nefari's grip. After groping around, her hand found a rock.
Zora smashed it into his head. Unfortunately, it didn't knock him out, but it did leave him disoriented. She took to rip her arms away and shove him down, straddling his waist.
"Don't you dare," she warned. The Nefari bared his incisors, snapping his jaw. His clawed fingers tried to gouge hers, but her knees crushed them. "Listen!" she shouted, fighting to keep him restrained.
