Four
1382 Words
Kysan did not want his mark sleeping in his bed.
Yet, here she was. Fast asleep and twitching like a broken doll.
The first lesson Grijah ever taught him "never save who you want to kill".
From across the room, sitting on a chair with his arms crossed, he watched her with smoldering eyes and wished he hadn't stuck his blade where it didn't belong.
Those dumb wolves were going to kill her.
... Well he wanted to kill her as well.
As much as he hated to admit it he hadn't finished observing her and he needed to know who he was killing. Not the half baked tale the Guardian told him.
He must satisfy his guilty pleasure before taking her meaningless life. Even if it meant having her in his bed.
His hard gaze traveled over her thin body in that stupid dress, up to her face partly obscured by her hair that had come loose at one point.
If not for the incessant twitching, she was a vision of benign beauty. So frail, so weak.
Numerous times he kept asking himself how she caught the attention of the Guardian and made him hate her so much he sent the silver sword to hunt her down and kill her.
This little, frail and unusual thing.
On the bed, Lotus mumbled words he couldn't understand, trembled and suddenly bucked like an angry horse. Her back arched unnaturally and her body as if acting like it had a mind of its own flung itself out of the bed. A loud thud echoed in the room.
Kysan sighed deeply and didn't move.
It was the fourth time she had thrown herself off the bed and was shockingly still asleep. A haunted sleep if he ever saw one.
Though he doubted it was those dumb wolves that haunted her dreams. If anything she should be the one giving them something to think about after acting like she was possessed by a demon.
The night had revealed how little he knew about his mark and left him with questions he needed answered.
Like why in the world she had told—no not told, she had practically begged the wolves to run.
A she wolf that couldn't even properly transform.
Kysan's brows furrowed tightly as he watched her twitch restlessly on the floor, face down.
The only reason she still breathed was because she had piqued his curiosity.
The girl that wouldn't stand up for herself and would allow others to slap her around, had begged her attackers to run away. He would've laughed if he hadn't witnessed it.
Run from what?
And she had been genuinely scared as well.
It wasn't like there was anything to fear.
Her transformation was something pathetically stuck in a weird limbo between human and wolf.
Dull gray fur that covered her skin like blisters and tore up his palms when he had gone to lift her. Short, blunt claws that retracted almost immediately he touched her.
From what Kysan had heard, his mark had told those that inquired that her wolf never developed properly and that it was too weak to do anything—judging by her wiry stature they believed it.
Now he was inclined to believe it as well.
But a part of him didn't buy it. And that part of him was right most of the time.
His gaze traveled from her body to the bedside table that had bloodied rags littered on it.
A weak wolf didn't give that much pain during transformation. Neither did it create such severe nosebleed that made her pass out from blood loss.
Kysan recalled the surprise he had when he had lifted her and found she was ice cold to the touch. So frigid her breaths came out in cold steam and her body shivered like she had been left out during winter.
She seemed dead.
Something wasn't right her at all.
Deep in his chest, he felt the flames of his curiosity burn brighter. Killing her would be enjoyable once he understood her.
On the floor, Lotus twitched more violently, bucked again and flipped herself over. On her face was a pained expression, her mouth moving rapidly in a whisper.
The twitching started ever since her fur retracted and the whispered mumblings sometime after he had brought her back to his place.
Kysan didn't know what to make of it. But his mouth downturned in a distasteful frown. The last thing he would do was to babysit his mark.
The chair creaked loudly as he rose from it, letting out another deep sigh as he moved. He first walked to the window and pushed it open to let the chilly air in.
The room was on the first floor and the window afforded him a convenient view of the street where her cottage stood. And with his eyes he could clearly see everything that happened around the cottage. But that stupid pup and her stupid enchantment made it impossible to see through the walls or enter when no one was home. He could see the witch's barrier reflecting the blue-black sky slowly brightening with the light of dawn.
Then Kysan made his way to where she lay on the floor. Taking the sheets off the bed, he spread it over her and topped it off with a woolly blanket he found in a drawer.
He was tired of putting her on the bed when clearly she loved the floor.
Squatting down, he tucked the blanket and sheets firmly under her, wrapping her like a cocoon, then used two fingers to swipe away hair from her face.
The deathly pallor of her skin from hours ago was fading into the smooth fair it was once. A smooth fairness he had seen in royalty too many times to count.
A runaway bride.
Despite the fairness of her skin it looked dry, her cheeks seemed sunken and dark circles rimmed both eyes.
Kysan's eyes narrowed at the observation. If he hadn't seen her in the library the day before, he would've thought she had been sick for days. Such side effects from shifting fanned the already raging flames of curiosity in him.
It can't be normal, he thought as he stared at her sleeping somewhat peacefully.
It would seem she was on her way to becoming one of his most interesting kills.
Because what could a small, evidently weak wolf had done to the Guardian? Shouldn't he be more interested in killing her mate, Alpha Vaheer?
That bastard was so evil even his bride ran away and chose a life as a librarian in a nameless village on Amintha borders.
His fingers grazed her cheek lightly as he drew his hand back.
All annoyance fizzled out as his face rearranged into a blank expression.
"I could kill you right now," he muttered.
It would be so easy.
Reaching down to his boot, he pulled out a long thin knife. The silver blade glinting in the dim light of the fading moon.
Visualizing the look on the Guardian's face, he deftly rested the knife atop her neck. Just a little s***h running from ear to ear and her blood would soak through the floors.
He imagined the weight of gold the Guardian promised. He saw himself buying passage on a ship sailing through the Narrow Sea.
Then Kysan blinked and everything fell apart. He withdrew the knife. It disappeared into his boot.
Not yet. Not when he didn't know her. That would take the thrill out of the kill.
You have to live for the thrill, Grijah had said.
A mercenary had only three things.
His sword. His gold. His thrill.
If Kysan had no thrill for a job then he didn't do it.
The Guardian sending for him had been thrill enough. And now his mark displaying such unusual behaviour when attacked had further propelled his thrill.
Speaking of attacked—those dumb wolves should be waking up by now.
"Don't go anywhere." He patted her head and straightened.
Throwing his hood over his head, his face immediately got shrouded in unnatural darkness. Each outline and curve vanishing in dark depths except for glinting silver eyes.
Kysan stepped back, raised a hand to his chest and vanished in black smoke.
- Writer
