Forbidden by Julia Keaton Page A

her. His
sword was raised, his eyes bloodshot and wild and with a sobbing
scream Jocelyn ran from him. She had no more energy to fight and
this one looked as if he wouldn’t give her the chance
to.
    Then she found him.
    Damon. He was striding towards her,
stepping over bodies and pushing aside the men in his way rather
than trying to doge him. He had a sword of his own now and Jocelyn
could guess how he’d gotten it by the blood that coated his face
and chest and dripped from the ends of his hair. His jaw was tight,
his teeth bared in a bloody parody of a smile. He looked wild,
bestial, the only familiar thing about him his eyes. And even those
swirled and whipped like a tempest. More dangerous than the sky
above, more deadly than the steel in his hands.
    Jocelyn didn’t hesitate. She kept
going. Kept running and panting and crying while the man behind her
practically breathed down her neck as he swung his sword on her.
She just kept moving and trusting until suddenly she leapt,
instinctively knowing that he would catch her. She jumped, higher
than she ever had before, and she felt a burst of triumph when she
felt his palm digging into her stomach as he lifted her above his
head.
    They’d done this a lot that year he’d
spent with her family. Jocelyn had been six and had just begun
showing a blossoming interest in ballet. After she’d gone to see a
show and had told him about the beautiful couple dancing on stage
he’d looked at her with a lost smile on his face.
    That smile had hurt her. Stirred
something in her small chest that drove her like a demon. To
brighten that smile, to erase the broken look in his eyes she’d
asked him to help her practice with her. Almost every day that
month she’d run towards him and leapt only to have him lift her in
the air with one strong hand and spin her round and around until
she was giggling and limp.
    When she was little it had felt as if
she were flying. Damon had been her wings.
    She’d forgotten that time.
    But the only difference between this
instance and that was that there was no laughter.
    With his hand a warm brand beneath the
curve of her breasts she floated there, above the carnage, as below
her his sword became a silver blur of motion. The man who’d been
chasing her fell, his neck squirting a fountain of blood. There
were men on either side and he spun with her above his head, first
one way and then the other, lightning fast as he killed two more
men. The world was an ocean of blood and death and Jocelyn’s eyes
closed tight as nausea threatened.
    If this was how seasickness felt, she
couldn’t understand how Ava stood it.
    She opened them only when he lowered
her again, a silent message that they were momentarily
safe.
    Looking up into his eyes she tried not
to tremble as his hands ran up and down her arms. Is sword was
still in hand so it was dangerous. She would have said something
but he seemed unwilling to either let go of the weapon or stop
touching her. Over her hack, her thighs her waist. Up to cup her
face and bring her close until she stood on her tiptoes in front of
him, her mouth no more than a breath away.
    “You little fool.” That was all he
said, it seemed all he was capable of saying. But Jocelyn heard the
knife edged panic beneath his voice and knew he’d been
afraid.
    For her.
    A man screamed, a sound full of death,
and Damon jerked himself from her gaze.
    He couldn’t believe he’d just stood
there and stared at her when there was fighting going on. But he
hadn’t been able to help himself. There had been a gut wrenching,
primal instinct to make sure she was alright. To feel her safe, and
warm and tight against the breadth of his body.
    Right now was no time for him to lose
himself though.
    With that in mind he let go of her and
instead gripped her hand. He began to lead her across the deck.
Kicking and pushing and stabbing when necessary to get where he
needed to go.
    The longboat attached to one side of
the ship was supposed to be used