Chapter 13 - Lawson
He slammed the man hard against the brick and mortar wall, an indent appearing in every place where his limb, body and head made contact with it. Down the front of him, a steady stream of red liquid flowed freely from the gaping wound in his neck.
Lawson tightened his grip on the man’s windpipe, his claws rendering the tender flesh around it useless as he exposed the corded muscles in his neck to circle his fingers around the windpipe alone. From behind him, he heard Angeline yelp, and held his grip steady.
“No,” she breathed.
The warmth of the blood that trickled over his fingers were faintly starting to become tacky as the fresh hemoglobin from the pints of blood that he had supplied these men started to congeal. How dare this man touch what was only his!
“Please, Lawson.” Her voice held judgement, and fear. Neither of those appealed to him. His face was distorted with anger. He almost lost his mind when he saw this man touching her. Seeing her glance her feisty claws off his face, evoked an anger in him he had never felt so strong. Before he could check himself, he put his full weight into his thrust to shove the man heavy against the wall and away from that which was his.
Looking into the face of this man, he could see the frozen expression of fear that greased his countenance. The man’s mouth was gaped open as a silent scream willed itself from his constricted throat, and his eyes were on the verge of glassing over, life on the brink of ebbing from him.
For him, death defined him. It was part of who he was. But Angeline had not been a part of that life that he led. Could he continue to be the bringer of death now that her life was bound with him?
The snarl was barely contained, ready to vibrate the walls. “The one that you were so eager to harm is the only reason you still live.” Pulling his claws from around the gore, he let the man slip to the floor.