Siren's Song

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

She couldn't find anything to use as a weapon.

Her best chance was suffocation with the ridiculous number of pillows scattered throughout the room. Somehow Alex thought that possibility was unlikely. She rubbed her sore wrists and tried to strategize. There was one window, but it was too small and too high to reach. Panicked, she circled the room, and debated throwing a pillow up at a candle in the hopes of starting a fire. Footsteps beyond the entrance stopped her in her tracks. There was an abrupt discussion outside. She waited behind the door in a vain attempt to hide and run for it. There was a grunt from a guard, and then, with remarkable stealth, a man entered.

Alex gasped in dismay. He was a giant. Much taller than she’d first gathered. She darted for the opening but was quickly grabbed by the arms, picked up, and put aside. She ran to the other side of the room, realizing her time was up. There was no such thing as knights in shining armor, or chivalry, or even gentlemen—at least not in this savage country. Not even her family could get her out of here with all the guards. But of course, no one knew where she was.

Alex choked back tears as the sultan pulled off his long jellaba. He wore European clothes underneath, and even with her blurred vision she could see thick golden streaks of hair. She tried to refocus, thinking her eyes tricked her.

As if sensing her fear, he spoke quickly. “Don’t be afraid. I've come to rescue you.”

He was young. From what she could see in the candlelight, somewhat handsome. And by the sound of his accent… English! Alex blinked in disbelief, but nodded. Every awful thing she was ever brought up to believe about the English she forgave. However, one critical word slipped out. “How?”

“How?” he repeated. “Good question.”

He grabbed the hooded robe from the floor and stood by the door. “Stand in the center and let him see you. As soon as the door is closed, start screaming.”

She nodded that she understood.

The round sultan entered. He didn’t seem to expect her to be waiting, docile.

As the door closed, Alex saw her rescuer cover the sultan's head. Immediately, she started screaming—it helped to cover the sound of the loud punches being administered to the surprised Moroccan. She ran to lock the door.

Then all hell broke loose.

Two guards, sensing something amiss, pushed at the door, sending Alex to the floor. A knife glittered briefly in the candlelight. Her guardian turned in time to stab one man and charged the second before a sword could come down. Alex gasped as he grabbed the guard's throat with one hand and the sword with his other. With great force the Englishman slammed the guard against the wall. The entire room shook, and Alex swore if the city hadn’t been alerted already, they were now. She swallowed her shock as the Englishman dispatched the nearly unconscious man with his own weapon.

Alex had seen death before, but never this close, nor on her behalf. She wondered if she really would have been able to kill Paxton. Gathering her wits, she decided this was no time to question herself. She ran to the door and slammed it shut—on more guards.

The Englishman looked at her, sword in hand. “How many?”

“Three.”

“And more on the way, no doubt.”

Alex decided he was either truly courageous or truly insane. Still, she felt anything was possible. “You can take 'em. They're small.”

“Your confidence inspires me.”