Page 3 of His to Ruin

“Fucking freak,” one of them barks before spitting on my face. The warm, wet saliva drips down my cheek slowly as their cruel laughter rings through my ears.

Suddenly, my head is swiftly shoved back down to theground. The force of my face hitting the hard ground below causes an instantaneous burst of blinding pain to radiate through me. It feels as if I’m on fire. But soon the fire melts into throbbing, radiating pain. The metallic taste of my own blood fills my mouth.

Just as a choked sob leaves my lips, the pressure on my back abruptly relents.

“The fuck?” I hear one of my attackers mutter above me as I greedily suck air into my lungs.

The sound of whimpering from above me causes me to slowly flip to my back as I start to regain my ability to breathe. It takes my mind a minute to wrap around what my eyes are seeing. Above me stands a figure cloaked in shadows. Their face is hidden by the pulled-down hood of their black sweatshirt. Even in the darkness of the night, I can tell that they’re huge as they tower above the cowering men who moments ago were hurling hate at my back. Their large gloved-hand is wrapped firmly around the throat of the man who’d moments ago been on my back. My attacker kicks and flails in my savior's hold, but it’s no use—he’s a small predator that’s found himself clutched in the jaws of a much larger beast. When the hooded figure speaks to the man in his clutches their words wrap around me like smooth smoke, sending a shiver shooting down my spine.

“What exactly doyou think you’re doing tomyhuman?”

2

KALLUM

Humans are predictable creatures.

They scurry through their days, clinging to routine, desperate for meaning in a world that has already forgotten them. Their suffering is self-inflicted, their joy fleeting, their passion pathetic. I do not care for them.

But him?

He’s different.

I watch him walk home from the abyss between the shadows, where the light dares not reach. He does not see me, not yet. I don’t want him to. But I see him. I have always seen him. The way his shoulders hunch as if he can make himself smaller, and the way his breath stills when he steps into the dark. His fear is the sweetest scent I’ve ever smelled.

He says he does not believe in monsters.

And yet, he is my greatest nightmare. My obsession.

The other humans that begin to surround him in the parking lot are insignificant. Meat wrapped in skin filled with too much arrogance and too little substance. The three reek ofsweat and hatred, nothing like the rich sandalwood of what’s mine.

Let them believe they have power.

Let them think they are hunters.

Preying upon someone's insecurities when behind him is something that does not fear them.

Christian tries to run. His heart slams against his ribs, fast and panicked. I could stop this before they touch him. I should. But I do not.

Let them dig their own fucking grave.

I wait, watching, feeling the heat of his terror pulse through the air over to me. The moment their hands bruise his delicious skin, something inside me snaps.

I move.

They don’t see me until I am among them. A tall shadow staring down upon them. One of them—the leader, the loudest, the filthiest—laughs as he presses my fucking human into the gravel. The sound is offensive. He does not get to touch what is mine. He does not get to hurt what is mine. Only I’m allowed to do that.

The bastard barely has time to register my presence before my fingers wrap around his throat. His body jerks, a marionette caught in strings, eyes bulging as I lift him from the ground. The others recoil, confusion shifting into terror. Their fear is a tangible thing, sour and frantic, clinging to them like the sweat on their skin.

The one in my grasp thrashes with his nails clawing at my wrist. Useless. I could squeeze. Crush his windpipe with the same effort it takes to snap a twig. I could rip the air from his lungs and watch the light in his shit brown eyes flicker and die.

It would mean nothing.

But the weight of Christian’s gaze on me? That is something.

I tilt my head as my fingers relieve some of the pressure, allowing the man to choke and sputter. He’s still alive only because I allow it.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing tomyhuman?”