Marcus' Prey

Chapter Eight

Hello kids!

WhAt? An upload within a month of the last one?? Crazy, I know. I actually had some time to write, and Marcus was being a bit demanding this week. I had no choice.

So...the last few chapters have been pretty wholesome and happy. Y'all know I couldn't let that shit continue. It's not in my nature to make my characters happy. They have to work for that HEA!

With that said...enjoy, but be afraid.

E <3

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All night I dreamed only of good things. For the first time in four years, I slept soundly. Every time a bad dream began to form, Marcus would appear, clad in armor and wielding a variety of weapons, beating back the nightmares and cocooning me in warmth.

            Marcus was my protector. My warrior. My champion, as if I were a medieval princess at a jousting tournament. He protected me physically while I slept and in my dreams.

            It was more than a little ridiculous. But I couldn't fight my own subconscious, and I wasn't sure I disagreed with it.

            But there was no doubt that last night was the best night's sleep I'd had in a long time.

            My mother had been a wonderful parent. But she could only give me so much, and she hadn't had time to dote on me. She's been too busy working, bringing home every penny in tips she could earn. We'd been a working-class family through and through.     

            Then my mother was gone, and I'd spent years sixteen through twenty with my father. In terms of Maslow's pyramid, I'd been pretty darned close to the bottom. My life had been a series of terrifying, anxious moments.

            But not now.

            I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, turning in place to look down at Marcus, settled down on his makeshift bed of blankets. I felt a small pang of guilt for making him sleep on the unforgiving stone floor all night, but I did my best to quash it. Marcus was a grown male. If he wanted to, he'd leave.

            Still, it wasn't the way my mother had raised me. She'd taught me manners, darn it.

            I took a moment to take in his features, guiltily creeping on him while he slept.

            He was too good looking to be true. Even in his sleep, he was almost ethereally beautiful. And, much to my chagrin, just the sight of him was enough to make a smile tug at my lips. Being around him made me scarily, ridiculously happy. It was like a drug; I knew I should be cautious, but he made even that difficult. He was a quandary, a problem that I didn't know the solution for.

            A knock interrupted my furious thinking and almost caused me to jolt out of bed onto my poor champion.

            The male in question was upright and set in a protective stance so fast that even I was impressed. And, I must admit, a little peeved. Being fast was my thing.

            "Kaiah, you awake? I know it's early..." Ammi's voice came through, slightly muffled by the thick wood of the door.

            I cast a glance at the clock in the corner of the room, quirking a brow. 10:00 am. I'd hate to see what Amirykal considered to be a reasonable waking time.

            "She's unavailable," Marcus growled, relaxing slightly at his friend's voice.

            The door burst open with a loud bang of wood hitting stone. Ammi's eyes sparkled with the manic light of a wolf who'd cornered a moose calf.