"Lothaire!!!" Willow screamed, his name tearing from her insides for the first time. Fear gripped her. It tasted unknown on her tongue. Its intensity increased when she realized that he would also get captured again.
"Lothaire!!! Run!!! Run!!!"
She screamed even though knowing in some part of her brain that there was nowhere he could go in broad daylight. But her heart is acknowledging it. It is stupidly begging her to make him leave.
The metal bit into her skin, burning with such intensity that she might crumble to the floor if not for their harsh grip on her.
Willow dug her heels firmly on the ground, resisting their hold on her.
She might have lost her power. But she didn't lose her fighting spirit. She won't go down that easily.
Willow grabbed the chains with both her hands, her palm burning immediately, the smell of charred skin thick under her nose, and pulled hard with her remaining step.
The werewolves didn't expect her to tug the chains. The one who was holding the chains stumbled and fell to the ground.
However, the others righted themselves. The one on her left who has an angry-looking scar on his cheek glared at her with hatred. He then raised his hand and slapped it across her face.
Willow's head turned at his strength, her cheek instantly throbbing, her lip cut and blood coming out of her split lip.
She gritted her teeth and with a force head-butted him. He stepped back, his hands clutching his now broken nose.
"You butch!! You will pay for this"
Scar-face then took out a knife made of iron and cut her skin across her cheek. Willow hissed. Other than that, she didn't give him any satisfaction.
Frustrated, he lashed at her arms, her torso, trying to rile her up, to make her scream.
"We better go," one of the members in their group said, his instincts screaming within him that the predator is nearby.
Scar-faced looked threateningly at him and with great reluctance tucked his knife back.
"I'm not done with you, Fae. We are going to have so much fun with you"
Willow opened her mouth to retort, but the roaring sound from the building made her whip her head in that direction.
They are already a good ten feet away from the door, standing under the sky.
Lothaire's grip on his control snapped. His mind changed only one thing-kill. He became a killing machine, ripping the werewolves before him with his bare hands.
They tried to scatter. But he is having none of it. They tried to capture Willow. From him. Him. His fangs are elongated. His eyes dilated. If a vampire saw him he would say that bloodlust took hold of Lothaire turning him rogue.
But no. His senses are intact. Anger coursed through his veins like hot lava burning under his skin. His rage knew no bounds.
With his bare hands, he gripped the now running werewolves and tore them. Breaking their bones like twigs. His strength is unparalleled. Surpassing that of all of these werewolves combined.
In just a few seconds, he killed everyone. But he is not satisfied. He is far from it.
His complete focus is on getting Willow back. Rage made him blind to logic, clouding his brain. He is not completely himself to think correctly.
He roared her name. Bellowed. "Willow!!!"
Willow heard the anguish in his voice.
Her anxiety increased. No. He wouldn't. He wouldn't be fool enough to step outside. But when did Lothaire do anything rational?
Lothaire stood at the front door, hairbreadth away from the sunlight, age-old instinct stopping him. Though he struggled, almost getting unhinged, fighting with himself.
Willow's fear became ten-fold. She tugged her chains harder trying to break free.
"No!!!! Lothaire!! No!!! Don't do anything stupid. You hear me, you idiot vampire. I swear I will kill you myself. No!!!! Please Lothaire. Please," Willow begged, frantically trying to get free.
Five werewolves surrounded her. They looked at the vampire who stood at the front door and smirked at him.
One who is brave enough started taunting him by saying, "you want to kill us sucker?? You have to catch us. We have your whore with us. Whatcha gonna do?!"
He held her firmly, his hands biting into her skin where the werewolf cut her.
"Does she taste good leech?" He grabbed Willow's hair and pulled it hard, bending her head back. This exposed her neck completely. To the mercy of the werewolf.
The others shuffled behind, giving him a wide berth. Some part inside them recognized the predator within Lothaire and they are doing everything not to draw his attention to them.
The brave one or rather the foolish one who didn't see the danger he was digging, then bent his head and sniffed Willow.
"She smells so delicious leech. What do you think she will taste like?" He didn't wait to hear the response. His tongue peeked from his mouth and he licked her neck.
Willow trembled in disgust. Angry tears gathered in her eyes.
Lothaire's roar was deafening as he looked at the werewolf touching her.
The next thing could only be described as insanity gripping him as he didn't think, didn't stop to consider the consequences.
He stepped foot outside, sun rays hitting him instantly.
"NOOOO!!!!" Willow screamed, her heart beating so fast that it might come out of her chest.
But instead of him withering in pain, Lothaire stood tall. Unharmed.
"Impossible!!"
"What is he?"
"How is he doing it???"
"The mage didn't say anything about this?"
"Fuck!!!"
Willow is equally stunned as the others. Her pain forgotten, her eyes wide, she stared at the miracle.
It could be called a miracle and nothing else. Because a vampire walking in broad daylight is never heard of before. Not in the entire history.
It would have looked like a lifetime but it was just a second. A second for Lothaire to cover the distance and grab the nearest werewolf.
His brain has not yet registered the miracle. His goal is to rescue Willow.
Willow stood in a trance, everything forgotten and blurring around her. Her vision narrows down to Lothaire and him alone.
Her eyes took him in as sun rays hit his skin. He didn't flinch, didn't cry out in pain. Instead, he basked in it as if walking under the sun is a normal thing for him.
Before the werewolves could come out of their shock, he is upon them, breaking the neck of one and twisting the torso of the other. It finally registered in the remaining werewolves' brains that they are outnumbered.
They dropped the chains immediately and tried to scamper. Willow took advantage of it and swiftly slipped past the chains, her skin crying in relief.
She doesn't want to see the red markings on it yet which she is sure will be there.
Instead, she turned to face the enemy. Her power might be drained, but she has the skill.
She took out the dagger she always kept in her boot and attacked the nearest werewolf.
His frantic eyes met her, taking note of the weapon in her hand. He tried to duck from her raised hand, but Willow was expecting that. She turned and gave a sidekick, hitting across his face.
The werewolf staggered, shaking his head.
"You!!!" He turned and tried to punch her but only air met his fist.
He frowned, turning his head when Willow extended her leg from her crouched position, making him stumble and fall.
Before he could recover, she slit his neck. The easiest way to kill anyone.
She then notices that Lothaire is punching the daylights of the werewolf who hit her.
Lothaire could have killed the guy in a snap if he wanted. But he is making him suffer, making him know the pain of hitting Willow. For daring to touch her skin. His fingers dig into his mouth, ripping his tongue out in one swift move.
The werewolf cried in pain. His face was unrecognizable from the beating it took.
Unbeknownst to Lothaire, the only remaining werewolf tried to creep up behind him.
"Lothaire looks behind you," Willow screamed, fearing that the werewolf might use a weapon on him.
Lothaire turned in the nick of time just as the werewolf arched his arm to slit his neck.
He threw the guy he held over the new guy and gave a strong kick.
Both the scar-face and the creep stumbled, falling over each other.
Lothaire grabbed the creep and with a sickening snap, broke his neck. He then threw him like a rag doll on the side.
By this time, Willow has joined them sensing that the battle is finally over for the day. Adrenaline has slowly left her body as exhaustion started to set in.
All she needs is a warm bed to close her eyes and put this day behind her. She can ask the questions to Lothaire that are burning in her mind later. Much later. After a good sleep and a clear mind.
She stood beside Lothaire as he grabbed the werewolf by his collar and lifted him up. His face inches from him. His fangs are coated red. He must have ripped the necks of one or more werewolves with his fangs. It's all a haze for him.
The werewolf shivered, looking at Lothaire's face. He can see death in his eyes.
His tremors increased as he stammered, "my... my liege... please... Please spare me."
Willow, whose mind was busy imagining the bed, snapped to the present hearing the word.
"What did you say?" She asked in confusion. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck standing in attention. A sense of foreboding traveled through her. Something is not right. Her mind blocked everything out. She can almost pick up the static with her ears.
Before he could open his mouth and reply, Lothaire took hold of his neck and snapped.
The ensuing silence that followed is very still and calm. A deadly storm that masked itself serenely.
There is no rustling of the wind, no chirping of birds, no morning sounds that can be heard usually. Everything stood still. As if nature is also afraid to make a sound, waiting with bated breath to hear what he has to say.
Willow couldn't take it any longer. She took a step, a silent storm brewing in her eyes as anguish threatening to break her at her seams.
Her hands shook. Her heart pleaded with her to forget what she heard. If only she can hear it.
But it couldn't be. She has heard it clearly. So clearly that it made ripples in her soul. A crack that threatened to shatter her.
"Lothaire?" Willow pleaded his name on her lips, to tell her the truth. To explain to her that she must be mistaken. Anything to stop this dread that is quickly spreading inside her.