My Daffodil | (1) The Daffodil Series

Book 1 of The Daffodil Series; 1st Draft Manuscript.

A/N: Be warned, this story - like all of my works - explores themes, ideas and philosophies which may be considered triggering or offensive. You are responsible for your own feelings. If you do not like the story, do not read it. Thank you.

: Ask me! Ask me to save you! He commanded. His voice boomed in my head, rattling my insides from the force.

I ducked down behind the rubbish drums, struggling to control my panted breaths as I clutched my throbbing hand. My knuckles were bloodied from the nose I had broken from one of my pursuers. But my fourth and fifth metacarpals were fractured without needing to assess, having shattered as I cracked the jaw of the third.

I could hear their approaching footsteps, all three of them.

My heart hammered in my chest with terror, and I crouched low, wishing the shadows of the night could engulf me.

: Angharad. Ask me to save you, Yzil’s voice gripped my mind, angry.

His ghost hovered in front of me. But even with such an ethereal form, he could not stop three physical men.

Their footsteps came closer, and I heard their voices.

“Find her! That bitch will scream at the top of her lungs when we’re done fucking with her. No one gets away from me. No one! Tear her clothes off. We’ll do it right here. Nice and secluded. Real dirty.”

A whimper of fear escaped my chest. I could fight, but not against three at once, not when all three were ablaze with animalistic lust. Why me? I was still dressed in my martial gear. How on Earth did I become a target for sexual assault?

Yzil’s cold form towered over me. It grew stronger as he fed from the maelstrom of my terrified emotions.

: This is your last chance, Angharad. Tell me to save you, he commanded again, his voice as cutting as ice.

It was unusual for him to sound so angry. I almost thought I detected an undercurrent of worry. But that could not be right.

My jaw clenched, mentally cursing with defeat to know I had been backed into a corner by both my pursuers, and the poltergeist who followed me.

: I have nothing to offer in exchange, Yzil, besides my fear which you already feed off. I buried my head in my hands, never mind the throbbing agony of the broken one.

: No. You always have more to offer. You just do not realise it. You are too careful, Yzil spoke with cruel and bitter irony.

I brought my hazel gaze up to Yzil. Out of his grey, shadowed outline, his glowing teal eyes bore into mine.

: Then what do you want in return? I asked him, my telepathic voice strained with fear.

Yzil seemed surprised. And surprised he was, because I could not think of what to exchange. It was the first time I asked him what he wanted in return.

I knew I would regret it heavily later. But I did not have the time. Panic and desperation began to swallow what was left of my sane thought. Any moment now and the thugs would find me and . . . and rape me.

Barely three months into my first year, and it was all going wrong.

Yzil knelt down to me, and his ghostly hand caught my jaw. My fear had given him so much strength that I could almost feel him physically.

His ancient eyes held mine.

: A kiss. One kiss from you.

I stared at him. So terrible. So cruel. So ancient and all-knowing. Yet our agreement had always been fair. I was careful. Always so careful. And he had never stepped beyond his boundaries.

The pounding footsteps grew closer. I could see their shadows approach my hiding place from beneath the rubbish drums. Tears of frustration and fear filled my eyes and I shut them. I did not want to to see.

: Fine. A kiss, I agreed with mortified defeat. P–please . . . save me.

Cold lips pressed against mine, and I gasped from the touch. It was cold, it was chilling, yet also so smooth, so delicate and strong at the same time. Powerful.

Yzil silenced my gasp with his kiss, sealing our lips together as his overwhelming presence smothered me.

Energy flowed away from my body, making Yzil’s lips more real, more firm. His hand on my jaw became more solid. I felt a shocking and terrifying power swell within Yzil as he grew stronger, while I grew weaker.

Just before my consciousness waned and slipped beneath the waves of darkness, my eyes fluttered open to see a man of pale skin and silver hair. His hungry eyes blazed the richest of greens within a handsome face, and a devilishly wicked and knowing smile graced his lips.

“A fair trade. For your first kiss, I shall protect you, my daffodil,” he breathed.

His voice was the same as Yzil’s.

Confusion flickered within my mind, but it died quickly, my vision fading as I lost consciousness, my energy drained.

The last thing I saw, was the pale man stand and turn to face the three men who rounded the corner. He was tall and imposing, his shoulders broad and his torso strong. Power, and frightening presence projected from him, stopping the three pursuers in their tracks.

“She belongs only to me,” he snarled.

His voice was as cold as the harshest winter. The air chilled, frost cracked from his tone of freezing and furious warning.

The hunters became the hunted, as they came face to face with a true, and physical demon.

Oh God, I thought as my awareness slipped beneath the waves of the subconscious. I have given Yzil his physical form. He is now . . . real.