Page 19 of The King has Fallen (The Kingdom of the Krow #1)

~ MELEK ~

All the young Neph who’d been watching with such lascivious delight a moment earlier whipped around at the sound of my roar and fell aside like flesh opened by a blade.

I passed through the gap, tackling the fucker who had her on the ground and was scrambling at his own leathers, trying to free himself—but not in time.

He was lucky I didn’t wrench his cock off when I got hands on him.

He released her the moment he saw my face, his hands going wide half a blink before I ripped him away from her and tossed him bodily into his comrades, so he took four of them out.

“What the fuck did you do?” I snarled, standing over a weeping Yilan, pointing at Gall—who was immediately released and shoved forward, stumbling and almost falling at my feet.

“He was playing with her!”

“He told us she was there!”

“It was just a game, sir.”

Gall had almost lost his feet when he was thrown forward. Now, he crouched in front of me, his eyes wide, sweat trickling down his temple as he watched me roar and dominate.

He was terrified by my anger.

And he believed it was truly leveled at him.

Apparently, I’d been more convincing than I’d thought, because the others relaxed a hair, standing straight and starting to nudge each other.

To distract them all, I stepped forward, swiped my spear from the hands of a young Neph who’d been staring at me open mouthed, then whipped it in a circle, sending a few of the others back a hurried step or two as I turned, scanning all of them, letting them see every ounce of my anger and domination over them.

“A few hours…” I growled, turning to meet eyes with each of them. “I am gone for a few hours and you pups cannot keep your dicks to yourselves even that long?”

“Sir, Gall said—”

“I don’t give a fuck what one soldier said when you are gathered as a legion and know better.”

Most of them shrank under my eyes. But the leader, clearly startled and embarrassed by how easily I’d tossed him aside, was scrambling to reassert himself in the eyes of the others.

And he was a clever fuck.

“We meant no disrespect, General,” he said slyly, still panting. “Please… show us. She’s yours. And strong. Strong enough to survive a breeding, right? Show us…” he insisted, and the sick light in his eyes resonated with the nausea in my stomach because I knew these young males had witnessed a woman taken against her will before.

Every Nephilim had.

Avid, they all leaned in, waiting for me to laugh and finish the job this fucker had started.

Nerves twisting in my guts, I smiled at them like a cat on a mouse, and with the spear still in one hand, I took the two steps back to where she was on all fours attempting to get to her feet with only one usable arm.

Grabbing a fistful of her hair, I yanked her head back, internally wincing at the pain it would no doubt cause her shoulder but keeping my expression fierce for these children.

“She is mine to do with as I please,” I snarled, eyeing all of them and ignoring her gasps of pain and shock. Then I brought the spear up to point, swinging it slowly so that it leveled at each one’s heart as I met eyes with him. “I don’t share with grunts. And I don’t want your dirty pricks in her. Get your own,” I growled.

There was a groan of disappointment, and some taunting of their leader for assuming I’d play his game. His eyes darted from his comrades—who he relied on to bolster his strength—to me and he licked his lips. But then he smiled and my blood turned to ice at the conniving, sinister light in his eyes.

“Then bleed her. Fucking kill her—she got out. She almost got loose. That’s a killing offense for an enemy. Slay her, General. Slay her!”

“I don’t take orders from children,” I snapped. “And there is no breeding with a dead woman, you imbecile.”

Some of them laughed and taunted him, but many were panting, eyes bright with bloodlust and leaning forward.

I growled, the hair on the back of my neck standing up. We Nephilim were most often our own worst enemies. Most of us were born out of violence then raised in a brutal culture that rewarded aggression. Although there were calm, thoughtful minds among us, in our culture strength ruled. That light in their eyes was a warning—the fallen power within coming forward.

My rank wouldn’t protect me from a well-placed spear, and even I couldn’t fight this many at once if the bloodlust hit and they worked together.

I couldn’t let the blood frenzy grip them, so I pretended indifference to the danger, yanking Yilan to follow me as I began to walk straight back through the crowd, using the spear as a warning against any attempt to hinder me.

As I passed where they still held Gall, I paused and glowered at him. “It was your job to keep her for me. Yet I find her pawed and dirtied? You will come with me to account for your failure!” I snarled, my heart weeping for the fear shadowing my son’s eyes.

The males cheered and taunted Gall as his head dropped and he slunk up behind us. I used the moment when their attention went to him to pretend to lift her and sniff her as if for the scent of other males and murmured in her ear.

“Grip my hand with your good hand as if you’re trying to stop me hurting you. Make it look like a struggle. I’ll follow your steps.”

She whimpered, and for a moment I thought she hadn’t heard me, but sure enough her good arm came up and she grasped my wrist, writhing as though I were shaking her head and pulling at her, when in truth it was her movement that I just allowed my arm to follow.

Perfect.

As I stormed away, hauling her with me and Gall following us, that little prick spoke up again, lifting his voice.

“But what will you do with her, General? Will you kill her, or breed with her?”

They all turned to me, going quiet, waiting.

I cut one look over my shoulder and flashed them a dark grin.

“I won’t kill her…”

They groaned, but I only smiled wider.

“…I’ll own her.”

A ripple of cheers and laughter, some ugly taunts, and a few questions rose in the air behind me, but I kept walking a steady pace. Unconcerned.

Just the General who’d interrupted some young Nephilim getting above themselves.

Nothing to be worried about.

Nothing important.

And definitely nothing to see here now that I was pulling her away.

They didn’t follow immediately, so I picked up the pace as soon as we were out of their sight—and then, when I was certain we were alone in the forest, I swung her up into my arms and began to jog, whispering instructions to Gall to run ahead and find very specific supplies then bring them to the tent.

“You do not come to my tent until you’ve found everything, do you hear me, Gall?”

“Yes, yes, of course, Papa,” he said in a small voice that made my chest pinch. But I shook it off. I needed him to feel defeated. I needed him scared . He couldn’t act. He definitely couldn’t lie. So, he needed to believe he was in desperate trouble. Then, if anyone asked him what he was doing he would tell them I was in a rage and he was serving me as punishment.

When we got closer to camp, he peeled off, murmuring that he’d be back as soon as he could. Then I started to run in earnest.

I had a soldier’s medical pack in my tent, but he wouldn’t remember that. And I needed him gone for a time.

“Almost done, don’t worry,” I muttered, but I wasn’t even sure she heard me.

Yilan held her useless arm against her body. Her face pale and her eyes squeezed shut against the pain.

Then I was darting along in the shadow of that rocky lee behind my tent, then flipping the tent flap aside to hurry inside—no lanterns. No warning to anyone that I had returned.

I hurried across the tent and lay her on the bed, checking her eyes, her pulse, and made a hurried examination of her body.

I was sickened to discover that her shirt was ripped down the front, and the buttons of her leathers torn loose. That little fucker had pawed her far more than I realized.

She lay on the bed, shivering, eyes glazed and face pinched against the pain, her lips moving so quickly on breathy, whispered words, it took me a moment to make out what she was saying.

“…don’t be scared, Gall. You were right. You were right. Don’t be scared…”

Oh, dear God.

I dropped my chin for a moment, knowing she was in shock and probably not taking anything in. But there was no time. And improving her pain would help her come out of it faster.

I took a deep breath and set my jaw, gripping her face in both hands.

The moment I touched her, her eyes cut to my face and her entire body went rigid with tension.

“Yilan, listen. Your shoulder is dislocated. I need to reset it. It’s going to hurt a great deal, but only for a moment—do you understand?”

She nodded quickly and licked her lips once, her eyes bright with fear.

I prayed she took in the words, that she would remember that I’d warned her. But there was no more time to waste. I had a hunch that those young Neph had followed at a distance and would be curious about what the General was doing with the Fetch.

I suspected if we didn’t have an audience already, we were about to. And they needed to be certain of what they were hearing.

I grunted and sent up a quick prayer for clarity. Then, with grim determination, I gripped the bad shoulder in one hand. Yilan cried out and I let myself give a low growl. I leaned over her to get the right angle, positioning my other hand on the bad arm and rotating it slightly, humming low and warm as I did so.

She cried out again when I leaned my weight on her and I cursed wickedly—and heard a snicker outside the tent.

So, my instincts had been correct.

Dropping my chin so my lips brushed her ear again, I whispered. “Make any noise you need to.”

Then without any further warning, I braced the shoulder to immobilize it, and turning her wrist, I yanked the arm to reposition it correctly.

Yilan shrieked and I roared as if I’d taken her in truth.

Then, as she slumped into unconsciousness, I continued to roar and grunt rhythmically, praying the sounds covered my footsteps as I rushed to get my soldier’s medical satchel, then stripped her shirt off to wrap the shoulder with the long, clean linen we all carried for battleground first aid.

She was bare under the shirt. It wasn’t hard to rumble approvingly—much harder to wrench my gaze away as I hurried to find a clean shirt.

But then I realized her leathers were dirty, torn, and sweaty.

I tore those off too and threw them on the ground with another low rumble of approval, praying that the witnesses outside understood what they were hearing.

Then, grabbing one of my long sleep shirts, I tugged it up her bad arm as gently as I could, then rolled her towards me to get the shirt behind her.

To lift her without hurting the bad shoulder I needed to put a knee onto the bed and half-straddle her to tug the shirt under her back.

It was in that moment that the tent flap snapped aside, and Gall rushed in—sliding to a halt at the sight of me bent over the Fetch on my bed, his eyes wide and afraid.

“GET OUT AND GUARD THE DOOR!” I roared at him.

He startled and turned so quickly he almost lost his footing before running back out of the tent still gripping the supplies I’d asked him to bring.

My heart broke for him—for the fear and confusion in his gaze. But the whole incident would affirm the story I was building for those fuckers and their lust outside.

So, while I was crouched over her, I moved as much as possible while pulling that shirt around her back, ensuring the bed creaked several times before I gave a gargling cry.

When I was done, she lay on the bed, unconscious, wrapped in my clean sleep shirt.

I was panting, I realized. My heart thudding uncomfortably in my chest—and not from lust, though there was no denying she was a beautiful woman.

It was fear, pure and simple that made my brow sweat.

But again, it was something I could use.

Disgusted with myself, and simultaneously grateful that the course of events would further the story I was building, I turned away from her to remove my weapon straps, pulled my shirt out of my waistband and tore through the buttons, let the two sides of it fall aside, Then I unbuttoned the top of my leathers as well, before stalking back to the tent flap.

Shoving it aside, I found Gall standing outside, his shoulders hunched up around his ears, his arms curled around the things he’d brought, that I had requested.

A few shadows melted away when I appeared, but that was just as well. It meant they were listening.

“Give me those,” I snapped, silently praying that Gall would forgive me the next day. “You stand out here. You don’t move. You don’t let anyone but the King Himself inside until I change the order. Do you understand?”

Gall nodded hurriedly, not meeting my eyes. I stepped out of the tent so anyone watching could see my disheveled appearance and sweaty brow. I grabbed the satchel and linens in his arms and yanked them from his grip, growling as I turned and snapped the tent flap aside again and disappeared inside.

And then, as I stormed back to the bed, to her pale, still form, I realized it was done. For better or for worse, it was done. Tomorrow morning the entire camp would believe I had claimed her and taken her for breeding.

I stood back a moment, breathing hard, taking in the sight of her—dirty, messy, but untouched. Laying on my bed, in my shirt, her black hair splayed over her face, and her pale skin almost glowing in the dimness. She looked so small and so fragile… And it hit me.

That had been close. So close.

I took one shaky step back, then another, until I could get a hand on the chair and pull it closer.

I sat down hard.

So fucking close.