Serial Story: Under His Wing, Part 2
This story is presented weekly in draft (unedited) form. Enjoy!
Part 1 |
Dunning Manor, Book 1
Under His Wing
Part 2
Present Day, Lakeside, Pennsylvania
The pop of a burning log brought Katie back to consciousness with a jolt. Smoke stung her eyes and nasal passages, permeating her lungs as she took a deep breath that drew the thick heat down into her oxygen-starved lungs.
Coughing, she shook her head side to side and struggled against the ropes that held her arms and legs immobile. The fire was impossibly close, less than two feet in front of her, the bright orange and yellow flames shooting high against the black night sky.
The heat was intense and she tried again to move, panic rising in her chest as the need to get away, to find oxygen and cooler air grew more desperate. She couldn’t remember how she got here or even what she’d been doing before, but it didn’t seem important. All that mattered was getting free.
Getting air.
A flash of brilliant white light came from somewhere across and to the right of the fire as she felt whatever it was she was attached to wobble slightly. Between the flash and the fire, she was blind to anything beyond, and her heart raced even faster wondering what could be waiting beyond for her. Was that the white light people saw when they died? Was she dead then? Mere moments away?
Another flash from the left this time. She jerked away, the full-body movement enough to tilt her world on its axis where it hung for a long moment. And then she was falling sideways, toppling, her shoulder hitting the ground in a mini-explosion of dirt and tiny embers.
Her eyes squeezed shut against a jolt of pain in her right temple, and when she opened them again, she saw two thick poles lashed together in a triangle beside the fire pit, with another pole resting in the upper apex to extend out over the fire.
Half of a roasting spit. The roasting spit. Her heart felt like it would jump out of her chest as she began to tug and pull and wriggle against the ropes, her memory returning in a deluge of horrific mental images.
The coffee table book. The disturbingly pseudo-sensual images. Her dismissal of his claims that the photo shoot had been real.
His insistence that he’d show her.
“Ready to go, are we?”
She twitched at his voice near her ear, the only movement she could make still bound and lying on her side. She felt his fingers at her ankles, and then her feet were free. He brushed her wrists.
Katie closed her eyes, slowed her breathing and resisted the urge to fight as the ropes fell away from her wrists. She let him drag her upright, leaning heavily on him for support even as she tested her ability to put weight on her feet.
She knew from the photos that he wanted her to crawl out on the pole. To lay there over the fire, as if it didn’t burn while the flames licked her bare skin.
She just needed--
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said, leering down at her as he reached for her shirt. “Even if you did get away, I’d catch you. There’s nowhere to go. The terrain is rough - your feet can’t handle it.” He cut through her shirt from collar to hem with a knife, yanking it off her shoulders. “And pretty soon, you’ll be naked as a jaybird. You wouldn’t want to run into the wrong sort of guy just camping out here without your clothes now, would you? Who knows what he might think...or do?”
Maybe she could get the knife away from him. Kill him. Throw his body on the fire and run away. No one would ever know...or care. She followed the shiny blade as it flashed in the firelight, moving toward the button on her jeans. He was strong, but cocky.
He looked into her eyes as he cut the button and pulled her zipper down. There was no lust in his expression - he needed the fire for that. Just cool confidence that he would get what he wanted.
She weighed her options as he bent to shimmy her jeans down her legs. She could kick him, grab the knife, and run. She could push him and run, and forget about the knife. Unfortunately, with the top button gone and a loose fit, the zipper wasn’t going to hold her pants up at any kind of a fast clip, and she couldn’t afford to be slowed down by clothing once she got away.
So she let him take them off, dutifully stepping out of each leg. Before he could stand again, she bent down and shoved his shoulders as hard as she could, catching him off balance. He fell toward the fire, but she didn’t wait to watch, just spun on her heel and ran as fast as she could into the trees, twigs and shrubs biting at her legs, rocks and pine cones slicing the bottoms of her feet.
She wanted to look back, to see him burning in the fire he loved so much, but he hadn’t screamed, hadn’t made a sound. Just then she felt rather than heard the vibrations of his pursuit underfoot, and she pushed herself to run harder, faster, ignoring the pain, focusing on...
Squinting, she could just barely make out a large, dark house-like shape in the valley below. Dim lights flickered on what looked like a wide front porch, and huge, monstrous figures with tall, widespread wings sat sentinel all around the flat square roof.
There was nothing else around, and Katie had no idea where she was, but whoever lived in that house was her only hope. Zig-zagging down the moderate incline, she raced for the door, praying someone was home as she flew up the stairs, across the wooden slats and pounded hard with one fist on the door.
“Katie!” Peter called, and she finally looked back, wishing she hadn’t. He was close...too close. She tried the knob, nearly crying with relief when it opened of its own accord. Slipping inside as his feet hit the porch, she slammed the massive door shut, dropping the sturdy old-fashioned deadbolt across both doors just as his body hit the other side...
Enjoy
this post? Support your author:
Part 1 |
Dunning Manor, Book 1
Under His Wing
Part 2
Present Day, Lakeside, Pennsylvania
The pop of a burning log brought Katie back to consciousness with a jolt. Smoke stung her eyes and nasal passages, permeating her lungs as she took a deep breath that drew the thick heat down into her oxygen-starved lungs.
Coughing, she shook her head side to side and struggled against the ropes that held her arms and legs immobile. The fire was impossibly close, less than two feet in front of her, the bright orange and yellow flames shooting high against the black night sky.
The heat was intense and she tried again to move, panic rising in her chest as the need to get away, to find oxygen and cooler air grew more desperate. She couldn’t remember how she got here or even what she’d been doing before, but it didn’t seem important. All that mattered was getting free.
Getting air.
A flash of brilliant white light came from somewhere across and to the right of the fire as she felt whatever it was she was attached to wobble slightly. Between the flash and the fire, she was blind to anything beyond, and her heart raced even faster wondering what could be waiting beyond for her. Was that the white light people saw when they died? Was she dead then? Mere moments away?
Another flash from the left this time. She jerked away, the full-body movement enough to tilt her world on its axis where it hung for a long moment. And then she was falling sideways, toppling, her shoulder hitting the ground in a mini-explosion of dirt and tiny embers.
Her eyes squeezed shut against a jolt of pain in her right temple, and when she opened them again, she saw two thick poles lashed together in a triangle beside the fire pit, with another pole resting in the upper apex to extend out over the fire.
Half of a roasting spit. The roasting spit. Her heart felt like it would jump out of her chest as she began to tug and pull and wriggle against the ropes, her memory returning in a deluge of horrific mental images.
The coffee table book. The disturbingly pseudo-sensual images. Her dismissal of his claims that the photo shoot had been real.
His insistence that he’d show her.
“Ready to go, are we?”
She twitched at his voice near her ear, the only movement she could make still bound and lying on her side. She felt his fingers at her ankles, and then her feet were free. He brushed her wrists.
Katie closed her eyes, slowed her breathing and resisted the urge to fight as the ropes fell away from her wrists. She let him drag her upright, leaning heavily on him for support even as she tested her ability to put weight on her feet.
She knew from the photos that he wanted her to crawl out on the pole. To lay there over the fire, as if it didn’t burn while the flames licked her bare skin.
She just needed--
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said, leering down at her as he reached for her shirt. “Even if you did get away, I’d catch you. There’s nowhere to go. The terrain is rough - your feet can’t handle it.” He cut through her shirt from collar to hem with a knife, yanking it off her shoulders. “And pretty soon, you’ll be naked as a jaybird. You wouldn’t want to run into the wrong sort of guy just camping out here without your clothes now, would you? Who knows what he might think...or do?”
Maybe she could get the knife away from him. Kill him. Throw his body on the fire and run away. No one would ever know...or care. She followed the shiny blade as it flashed in the firelight, moving toward the button on her jeans. He was strong, but cocky.
He looked into her eyes as he cut the button and pulled her zipper down. There was no lust in his expression - he needed the fire for that. Just cool confidence that he would get what he wanted.
She weighed her options as he bent to shimmy her jeans down her legs. She could kick him, grab the knife, and run. She could push him and run, and forget about the knife. Unfortunately, with the top button gone and a loose fit, the zipper wasn’t going to hold her pants up at any kind of a fast clip, and she couldn’t afford to be slowed down by clothing once she got away.
So she let him take them off, dutifully stepping out of each leg. Before he could stand again, she bent down and shoved his shoulders as hard as she could, catching him off balance. He fell toward the fire, but she didn’t wait to watch, just spun on her heel and ran as fast as she could into the trees, twigs and shrubs biting at her legs, rocks and pine cones slicing the bottoms of her feet.
She wanted to look back, to see him burning in the fire he loved so much, but he hadn’t screamed, hadn’t made a sound. Just then she felt rather than heard the vibrations of his pursuit underfoot, and she pushed herself to run harder, faster, ignoring the pain, focusing on...
Squinting, she could just barely make out a large, dark house-like shape in the valley below. Dim lights flickered on what looked like a wide front porch, and huge, monstrous figures with tall, widespread wings sat sentinel all around the flat square roof.
There was nothing else around, and Katie had no idea where she was, but whoever lived in that house was her only hope. Zig-zagging down the moderate incline, she raced for the door, praying someone was home as she flew up the stairs, across the wooden slats and pounded hard with one fist on the door.
“Katie!” Peter called, and she finally looked back, wishing she hadn’t. He was close...too close. She tried the knob, nearly crying with relief when it opened of its own accord. Slipping inside as his feet hit the porch, she slammed the massive door shut, dropping the sturdy old-fashioned deadbolt across both doors just as his body hit the other side...
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