A Lion's Cage by Ella Wilde

Author:Ella Wilde [Wilde, Ella]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General Fiction
Publisher: Africa Creates
Published: 2019-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Willow

As over five hundred pounds of feline landed on me, I heard Mort cry out. But the Vampire was the least of my concerns. The white lion pressed his large, toothy snout against my chest, his amber eyes glowing right above my own. I tensed, waiting for the beast to tear out my throat.

So much for my life as an immortal creature of the night. Short and not even sweet.

Instead, the lion nuzzled my neck, his long, white mane floating above my head. Covering me with his body, he planted his front paws on either side of my head. A deep purr resonated from his wide chest, reassuring me that perhaps I would live to see another day.

I felt more than heard Mort approaching at a run. Pushing against the lion, I shouted, “Go, Lazarus. Get out of here.”

The lion hissed and turned a malevolent glare at Mort.

"Leave her be, cat," Mort commanded.

His power of Charm had no effect on the lion who kept his gaze fixed firmly on Mort's chest. Still lying on my back, warm sand pressing into my scalp, I reached up and gripped handfuls of thick, scratchy mane.

"Stupid cat, run," I yelled.

Lazarus glanced down at me, his ears flicking back and forth. In that instant, I saw past the wild eyes of a lion and into the soft gaze of a young man. And then, before I could react, Mort barreled into Lazarus’ side, knocking the cat off me. As the lion lay stunned, Mort wrapped his arms around him, his muscles tensing as he began to squeeze the breath out of his foe. The crowd went wild while I screamed.

Leaping up, I lunged at Mort and flung my arms around his neck. His muscles were immobile. Compared to this tower of battle-hardened strength and experience, I was flimsy and useless, an orphaned kid who’d stumbled into a life she didn't understand.

But I was a Vampire.

Using the only power I could control, I sank my fangs into Mort's neck, hoping to startle him before he broke Lazarus’ back.

It worked a bit too well. Rearing up, Mort slapped an arm over his neck and slammed his hand against my ear. High-pitched ringing deafened me, and my vision blurred from the force of it. The next thing I knew, I was in his grip, my back pressed against his chest. It was like being hugged by a stone statue.

I waited for him to tear me open or break every bone and then some. Instead, he lowered his mouth to my ear and whispered, “This isn't your fight, little one. Run away, and I will find you later."

His words sounded more like a promise than a threat, spoken as tenderly as a lover to his beloved. But it did not bode well for Lazarus.

"I'm not leaving without my lion.” Gritting my teeth, I lifted both legs up in front of me and smashed them backward into Mort’s shins.

It was like kicking a wall.

I could feel his chuckle as he dodged to the side, avoiding Lazarus’ attacking paw.

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