The Crown Thief and Her Alpha Prince

CHAPTER 2 - THE BEAST

Amelia Cooper’s Point of View

Amelia froze. The voice behind her bellowed again.

“You! Pretty little thing! Come here! Are you lost? We could show you the way!” 

A raspy laugh followed that line, as Amelia turned on her heel to see who had called on her. On the narrow dirt road, three men, clearly intoxicated, stumbled a few feet behind her. They were fat and large, in their forties. She had been so tired that she had not noticed them before. She chided herself. If her life on the street had taught her one thing, it was to never let her guard down, and to trust no one. 

“No, I am fine, thank you.” she replied curtly, focusing back ahead of her and quickening her pace to a brisker walk. 

She heard the men picking up speed too behind her. 

“Come on, don’t be like that,” shouted one of the men. “You look cold. Between the three of us, we could warm you up real good.”

Amelia felt bile rise up in her throat, her heartbeat quickening. She was not stupid. She could clearly understand their intentions. 

The village was still a few hundred meters away. Should she run now, or would that provoke the men into chasing her? Would she have time to reach the village before they caught up to her? And even if she did, would someone bother to help her out - a strange woman in shattered clothes, alone in the middle of the night?

She just prayed the men would let her be if she ignored them. That hope was shattered when she felt a hand, damp with sweat, close around her wrist. 

“LET GO!” she screamed loudly, pulling her hand free of the grip, the man too drunk to hold her properly. 

She had hoped to attract some attention from the village by being loud, but no sign of a rescue was visible. Instead, a second man took the small altercation as an opportunity to quickly jog to plant himself in front of her. Amelia was a small woman, and he towered a good full head over her. 

Amelia was used to brutes. Being a thief, she often hung around less than frequentable gentlemen. However, she always kept the upper hand by being in a public setting and having fellow thieves she could trust (or at least, as much as she could trust anyone) around her. 

“Now, now, is that a proper way for a lady to behave?” he snickered. “What are you doing all alone in the middle of the night?” 

He was in his forties and was quite imposing, his frame large and bulky. His crooked, vicious smile was missing a few teeth. She could smell his breath, reeking of alcohol. She took an instinctive step back, only to bump into the third man, who had stepped behind her. He grabbed her shoulders, his grip firm, suggesting he was not as intoxicated as the first guy. 

Amelia tensed and evaluated her situation. Even though all three men had drunk, at least one of them was only tipsy at most. She was small and she certainly was no fighter. Whenever she was stealing, she was more the small, acrobatic type able to reach the tightest of spaces than the muscle of the operation kind of girl. Her chances to escape her predicament with her virtue intact were slim to say the least. Her gut twisted at that thought.

“My friend asked you a question,” the man holding her said mockingly, his grip tightening around her shoulders. She would have bruises where his fingers dug into her skin. “What is a young lady such as yourself doing unchaperoned in the middle of the night?”

“It is none of your business,” Amelia replied, trying to keep her voice from shaking, to infuse with a bravado which she did not truly possess. “Now let me go or else I will - ”

“You will what?” asked the man with missing teeth, taking a step towards her. His nose was almost touching hers. The stink of her breath turned her stomach almost as much as her fear. He looked as if he was going to kiss her with his disgusting mouth.

Her rising panic gave her strength. Amelia kicked up with her left leg, her knee making contact with the man in a very unfortunate place for him. He bent over, swearing. Amelia couldn’t suppress a slight smile of satisfaction.

“I’ll do that, for starters,” she retorted. 

She wriggled to get free of the grip of the man behind her, then stepped on his foot heavily. When he did not bulge, without overthinking her action, she bit his hand, drawing blood. The guy yelped and loosened her grip on her, enough to give her an opening.

“You b***h!” he groaned.

Amelia ran off in the direction of the village but she did not make it far. The man she had kicked in the groin had recovered enough to grab her arm as she passed him. He spun her around until she faced him. He then slapped her, hard. The hit stung, blood spilling on her tongue. Dizzy, she fell to the ground.

One of the men - she had lost track of which - grabbed her wrists and held them above her head on the ground, while another one dropped on all fours, one knee between hers, parting them, her dressing hiking slightly up her legs. He held her thighs, pinning them to the ground. 

“LET ME GO!” Amelia screamed again, completely panicked. 

She realized that arguing with them was beyond pointless at that point, but what else could she do? She kicked and trashed, but she could not free herself from their grip.

“You have no right to…” Amelia tried again, her voice smaller. “Please, let me…”

The hand of the man clamped on her mouth, muffling her pleas. Amelia closed her eyes, and tensed, resigned.

“I believe the lady asked you to let her go,” a new voice said, only a twinge of something akin to anger coloring it. It was deeper than the other men’s voices. 

“Move along, man. There is nothing to see here,” the man with a hand on Amelia’s mouth replied dismissively. 

“If you won’t listen to her, then listen to me. Let. Her. Go.” the newcomer demanded, his manly voice firm and even. His tone was so calm, so sure, it would be soothing if Amelia’s heart was not already beating so fast it was almost bouncing out of her chest.  

She was beyond calming at this point. She was glad someone was standing up for her, but she had little faith left. Her helper was clearly alone. There was nothing he could do against three large brutes. 

The newcomer did not seem to share her pessimistic opinion. “I will not ask you twice,” he added. “Just leave now.”

“Listen, there is one of you and three of us,” scoffed the man holding Amelia’s wrists.  “If you don’t want to end with a broken nose, I suggest you do as my friend say and turn ar -”

Amelia heard a loud and clear c***k, and the pressure on her wrists disappeared. She opened her eyes. 

The man who had been holding her wrists was on his side, moaning in pain. Blood was pouring from his face. By the look (and the sound) of it, the newcomer had broken his nose. Amelia held back a snicker at that. Apparently, not only had she a rescuer, he had a wicked sense of humor.

She was still being held to the ground by the hands on her mouth and her legs, so she could not move much and see her savior. Her three aggressors exchanged angry looks then removed their weight from her, rising up. 

“You’ll pay for that, bastard,” roared one of them as they all got ready to fight. 

Amelia tensed. He sounded so furious, so determined. The fiends would kill her potential rescuer. She had to run while they were fighting. 

Now that she was free, Amelia scrambled to her feet, finally being able to look at the new man who had stood up in her defense. What she saw left her mouth agape. 

The man that had come to her defense was a beast of a man. He was massive: well over six feet tall, his frame was large and imposing. He was practically naked safe from short, loose braies, making her cheeks flame. His minimal attire left his gorgeous, muscular body on display. He had an enormous scar on his left shoulder that looked like a big animal such as a bear had once tried to rip it out. 

Despite his nonchalant attitude, he was getting ready to fight, his strong muscles tense, ready to protect her. 

But more than his impressive physique, it was his messy dark hair and the predatory gleam in his warm, golden eyes that made Amelia think of a wild beast when she looked at him. He had retreated a few feet away, a bit hidden in the shadows of the night, but his eyes shone, almost as if they were lit up.

Although his handsome features were calm, almost detached as he studied the three drunk disdainfully, in his eyes shone a fury that looked almost inhuman. His gaze was cold, contrasting with the warm color of his irises. 

Despite the dire situation she was in, Amelia could not help but stare at him, forgetting to run away from the fight.

The vile men that had attacked her hesitated, looking up at the mountain of a man with an emotion akin to doubt. Their opponent was taller and bigger than them, towering over them, his steel-like gaze daring them to make a move. When they did not after a few seconds, he cockily raised an arrogant eyebrow, knowing exactly the effect his imposing stature had on their resolve. 

They swiftly exchanged unsure glances between themselves, before finally strengthening their resolve and advancing menacingly. Even if he was very tall, they outnumbered him - and they were not small men either, far from it. They looked like the type used to pub fights, brutes that were used to dishing punches. 

Amelia held a nervous breath as they encircled him, but she needed not have. As soon as they had taken their first steps towards him, the handsome man's lips had turned into a small but wicked smile. 

Her savior moved with an uncanny speed, avoiding their punches with ease. It was like he guessed their next moves before they even thought about it. His own strikes all found their targets with powerful thuds and sickening cracks. Even though she held no sympathy for the brutes, she could not hold back a wince as the man fists collided with them again and again, his strong arms shattering bones as if they were mere twigs. 

The fight did not even last a minute. The brutes fled towards the dim lights of the village, whimpering. 

For the first time, the man locked eyes with Amelia. His beautiful, golden gaze was still shining with cool rage and his large chest was heaving slightly from the exertion of his fight. He silently stepped towards her, his face an unreadable mask. She could see now that he was in his late twenties, only a few years older than her. He was even more beautiful up close. 

Amelia’s heart thundered once more. It did so partly because of an instinctive fear under the scrutiny of his hard, almost predatory eyes, and partly because of another feeling completely - one she had not experienced often and never with that sheer intensity. 

Desire. 

Gods, he was devastatingly gorgeous, more than any man had any right to be.

Amelia did not know him. He might be as dangerous as the brutes that had just fled. He was stronger, quicker than them. There was no way she could escape from him if he had bad intentions.

Then again… Would she even want to escape from him?