Blood

Acquaintances (9)

I liked writing this chapter and the book seems to be going well! Please voice your opinions and negative reviews are greatly appreciated but don't be horrible either! xD

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Enjoy!

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I struggled; I kicked, spat, bit and clawed at my captor as they pulled me into an alley, barely three foot wide. Whoever was holding me must have been strong as they managed to keep me locked in their arms as I struggled, seeming completely unaffected by my protests.

I moaned loudly against his hand, trying a different approach this time.

“Quiet!” A man hissed in French in my ear.

I froze when I heard the urgency in his voice and remained stock still.

The footsteps got louder and soon I realised it was marching.

My captor tightened his grip around me, pulling me back as far as he could get up against the wall. I listened to his drumming heart, just above my ear, as mine pounded in terror. The footsteps halted and then there were voices. Whatever they said, I did not understand a word as each was spoken in German. A few moments passed with some more words and then they set off again with the loud thumping of their boots as they marched in sync.

The man’s grip on me loosened and I quickly lurched forward, pulling him with me before pushing straight back to slam him into the wall. A low groan escaped his lips as I pulled free.

“Shit! Where did you learn that girlie?” He whispered loudly as he rubbed his back.

I glared at him as I edged back towards the street.              

“Who are you?” Monique spoke through my lips.

He looked up, staring at me for a while before frowning.

“Nathan Viard,” he replied before stepping forwards and kissing both my cheeks.

I froze at his actions before Monique noted in my mind that this was French custom and that I should kiss back, I didn’t.

“Your name mademoiselle?”

I paused, quickly agreeing with Monique mentally to use a false name.

“Isabelle Turpin,” I lied.

He raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms.

“Liar!” He declared.

“Pardon?” I asked, letting a confused expression colour my face.

He grinned before marching forward, grabbing my wrist and dragging me out into the street. I struggled in his grasp but he held tightly as he dragged me in the direction of where the people had come.

“We thought there weren’t any survivors. St Cyr de Favieres was destroyed and this place has been emptied,” he commented.

“I am not from here. We came from St Cyr de Favieres,” I piped up before adding, “it was mere chance we survived.”

He stared at me with astonishment, stopping in his tracks.

“How the heck did you survive?” He gasped.

I shrugged, shifting under his gaze but still looking him in the eyes.

He pulled a hand through his hair and then continued pulling me through the village.