The Stolen Bride

1 - Between Predators

"Run, Kira, run - !"

Sixteen-year-old Kira stared in horror as the words died in her father's throat in front of her. Her father collapsed in the middle of the hallway, blood pooling from a fatal wound in his neck.

Kira looked back up, seeing a man's silhouette standing just behind where her father had been.

Kira had been woken in the middle of the night by screams – not just in her own home, but all across the village. She could hear the panic and chaos out there – the sound of men cutting each other down and women and children screaming and pleading.

An enemy had invaded their village, but what did they want?

She gasped in terror as the figure in the hallway stepped forward, moonlight falling across his features. Dark hair. Cold blue eyes. A face painted in red and black. Blood and shadow, like a devil of the night. A bare-chested devil with a necklace of teeth resting against scarred skin. Her father's blood still dripped from his blade.

The intruder strode over her father's body, his gaze dancing over her in delight. The look in his eyes was hungry and menacing, but for some reason, she couldn't move.

Her father was dead. Her mother was probably dead too. There was no one who could help her.

"Well, look what I found..." the stranger rasped as he moved slowly towards her, like a predator carefully stalking prey. Shadows danced across his face with every step, while he flicked blood off the blade. "Want to come with me?" he asked, laughter in his voice.

Revolted, Kira finally came to her senses. She took a step backwards, only to let out a cry as she bumped into someone behind her. Someone's arm circled her in an instant, clutching her tightly. The strong muscles and lean chest at her back confirmed her fears.

She was being held firmly by another man. Any chance she'd had of running away were now dashed. Now, she was trapped between them, and she was old enough to know what they were going to do to her.

The one facing her had come to a stop. His eyes narrowed in displeasure at the man behind her. "Drev," he hissed, annoyed. "I saw her first."

"But I got her first," a low voice reverberated against her, sounding past her ear. "So, back off, Sylar." It was not said angrily, but she heard the unspoken words that followed: or else.

This was stupid. And childish. Were they going to fight over her? She supposed she shouldn't have expected anything better from a pair of savages.

Yet, to her surprise, Sylar lowered his head and stepped back, like a wolf submitting to the head of his pack. "Alright, Drev. She's all yours."

She heard the bite in his voice, though. So did Drev, she assumed, from the way he tightened his grip on her body, just beneath her breasts.

They watched silently as Sylar turned away and headed into one of the rooms, presumably to rummage for anything of value.

Kira lowered her eyes, staring at her father's body. There was no time to grieve, to let it sink in as Drev, her captor, scooped her up, hauling her over his bare shoulder. He did it so quickly, she didn't even get to see his face.

The next thing she knew, he was loping out of the house on swift feet, past the oak tree that had watched over their home for generations, ignoring her angry writhing and protests to let her down. With each step, his shoulder jutted painfully against her body, making her wince.

She raised her head to see what was going on, and her jaw dropped at what she saw. Blood, fire, ruins. In a single night, her village had become hell come to life.