A hand shot out and took hold of my waist, jolting my arms from around Tempest's neck. I tried to hold on, but the propulsive force was too much. Nightshade's fingers dug deep grooves into the tender flesh of my stomach. Even under normal circumstances, that would have been less than ideal, but, as it was, his restrictive hold was the only thing keeping me from plummeting to the ground.
What happened next occurred so quickly, so completely without thought, that I didn't realize what I'd done until I was falling, staring up at the sweet blue canopy of sky growing more distant by the second. As Shade held me to him, I twisted around to face him, close enough to make out the details of his eyes, the only part of him not completely obscured by swaths of black fabric. Strange eyes, a golden brown near the iris, blending unevenly into an ocean blue at the edges, like waves crashing upon a rocky shore. His sudden proximity came as a jolt to my nervous system and I reflexively shoved him hard in the chest, attempting to buy myself distance — any distance — except I still held the open knife clasped tightly in my hand from when I sawed myself free of the debris pinning me to the ground, forgotten in the madness of the last few minutes. The thin blade slid between his ribs with sickening ease, and then he was the one pushing me away, his pained hiss grating my eardrums.
Definitely masculine. So much for my villain gender equality fantasies.
I stretched my arms forth for something to hold onto as I began careening backwards, but, again, I still held the knife. It pierced his shoulder, and the sound that exploded out of the Shade was haunting. Wild. Animalistic.
An ungloved hand shot out at my face. Even though I saw it coming, there was nothing I could do to prevent him from backhanding me across my cheek.
I lost my grip on the blade. I lost my grip on him. My head whipped to the side from the force of the blow and I pitched back.
My fall was slow, the sky beautiful. I wanted only to stare at it forever as the ground rose up to catch me. In a perfect world, perhaps I could have. Wind whistled increasingly desperate songs in my ears, begging me to shut my eyes.
I did. I couldn't help it. As much as I wanted my last act to be defiant, to be me facing my own mortality with steel nerves and an iron heart, I was terrified. Of course it had to be heights that killed me, in the end. Poetic, given all I went through seven years ago.
Eyes sealed, I reached forward for my last bit of sky, my fingers grasping at everything and nothing at the same time. Fingers curled tight around my wrist and I jerked abruptly out of my rapid descent. My shoulder tore out of it's socket with vengeance, but I was... alive. Inexplicably, undeniably alive.
"Whew," Tempest whistled. "Another close one. Let's not make this a habit, shall we?"
With some effort, I managed to pry my eyes open to stare up at him. I wanted to say something witty, but I'd left my wits scrambling after my stomach and vocal cords about a hundred feet above us.
"Yeah. Sounds good," I managed to say, with some effort.
He lowered us carefully the rest of the way to the ground, while I dutifully stared at the stitching of his costume. Gazing into his mask-eyes seemed too awkward, and there was no way in hell I was looking down.
A jolt ran up my leg as I dropped down to my feet, abruptly reminding me of the damage I sustained to my ankle trying to escape the rubble earlier. Tempest noticed my discomfort, bracing my shoulders to steady me. I flinched at the pressure, still tender from where my arm was nearly ripped out of socket.
"My bad," he apologized, immediately pulling away.
I breathed out through the pain. "What about the Shade?"
YOU ARE READING
Super•Villainous
Fantasy"I've been looking for you." There was an unexpected rasp to his voice, a hint of desperation. He stretched out one hand, as if to brush it across my cheek, or perhaps wrap it around my throat. Oddly enough, I didn't know which option frightened me...
