My Loyal Alpha

Chapter 2: Sexy Savior

Silvana's head pounded and the murky voices of people crying out in horror filled her ears.

More bolts of crimson lightning slammed down on the carnival, destroying rides and prize booths in a flurry of yellow sparks. The Ferris wheel unhinged and in a shrieking screech landed in front of Silvana, crushing the wire link fence beside her. Lightning hammered mere feet from Silvana, sending her flying in an explosion of dirt and fire. For a second, she had felt as though she was hovering, her body numb and ears ringing. Then she cracked against the fallen Ferris wheel, and as trees and grass burned in a crimson flame around her, she patted her bloody stomach.

She had been sliced open deeply on her abdomen, and she was losing blood fast.

Silvana groaned but doing so shook her entire body. She started sweating. Every breath was like needles in her lungs, and she watched as everybody in the carnival ran and dodged past more red lightning.

She watched as everybody left her behind.

Blood soaked into her shirt. “Oh my god," Silvana moaned, wincing in pain.

“I'm going to die," she cried to herself.

She rolled onto her back and hyperventilated, her ribs pulsing.

In the middle of what had been the carnival, the largest strike of lighting yet belted down, and the huge streak took the form of a giant, bearded man, a woodcutter's axe slung over his shoulder. His body sparked with the crimson lightning and although he was nearly eight feet tall, he had only sparking wisps by his ankles, and he floated over to Silvana like a ghostly premonition.

Silvana had read about the spirit of the Axeman, an evil demon who her father had sealed away years ago. But her father's magic was strong, and it was impossible for the legendary Axeman to be back.

And yet, here he was in all his malevolence.

Not wanting to give up, not wanting for it all to end so soon, before she'd even fallen in love, Silvana clawed at the burnt grass, screaming as she left a trail of hot oozing blood while she inched away.

The crimson Axeman stared down at Silvana with soulless sockets for eyes. With both hands he raised his axe up above his head and swung down at Silvana.

She felt the gust of wind from the axe's s***h, but with a ferocious snarl and too fast to see completely, a big silver blur bashed into the Axeman.

It all happened so quickly that Silvana wasn't sure what she was seeing. Had she hit her head too hard and was hallucinating?

A tall werewolf pinned the Axeman down, then swiped long silver claws against the evil spirit. With each strike surges of red sparks shot out from the Axeman, and the werewolf howled to the moon, its sharp fangs shimmering the same silver as its claws.

Silvana was bleeding, disoriented, and near her two biggest enemies, an evil demonic spirit and a terrifying werewolf.

If one didn't finish her off, the other certainly would.

She passed out to the sounds of the two trading blows, and to the werewolf's powerful and exciting howling.

***

“I'm glad you're awake," a firm, manly voice said to Silvana. “I need to take off your shirt."

“You need to do what?" Silvana asked in an innocent mumble, trying to raise from the big bed she was laying in. Sharp pains filled her stomach, her shirt had been lifted up to her navel, and the gash on her abdomen was stitched together.

This heroic, brutey man had saved her life.

In a chair next to her, her savior was a man so handsome he couldn't be real. Short brown hair sat above his clear blue eyes, and his alluring, clean-shaven face had fine, prominent features. Silvana's heart dropped in her chest when he said, again, “I'm taking off your shirt."

Silvana yielded and allowed him to unbutton her.

Every inch of the man radiated with athleticism, and he was the strongest man Silvana had ever seen. She couldn't help but feel a tingle as his big fingers grazed the skin by her breasts as he pulled her shirt open and examined the second deep wound on her chest, this one still needing healing. He slid the arms of her shirt down her bare shoulders, and Silvana blushed as her black lacy bra was revealed.

The man smiled at her and touched a large hand to the side of her head, his strong caress relieving her of any fear.

“It's going to be okay," he said. “You're a fighter and you'll pull through."

He dug around the medical kit opened on his lap, and Silvana felt comforted by his flexing biceps and deep voice.

He dabbed ground lilac and passionflower around the wound and told her, “This will help with the pain," before dabbing a cotton ball of rubbing alcohol onto the wound. Was this a fellow witch?

Silvana flinched at the sting from the alcohol, but was grateful to be in the care of such an attentive and thoughtful man.

He produced a needle and thread, then lifted a finger to Silvana's chin and guided her eyes so that she was looking at the spinning overhead fan.

He said, “Don't look. It'll be over before you know it."

And he started stitching, patching her wound together as she gripped the side of the sheets, watching the fan blades turn. Occasionally, he pushed her loose hair behind her ear, and asked her how she was doing.

“I'm good," Silvana said each time. “Thanks to you."

“I'm Bruce," the man said, grinning. He snipped the final part of the stitch with his teeth. “Bruce Winters."

Silvana's cheeks warmed. “My name is--"

But Bruce cut her off and said, “Silvana Sparks, the witch."

Bruce held up her pink cell phone, the screen a spider web of cracks. “Your father was worried and called," Bruce said. “He's on his way to pick you up."

Silvana sat up slightly, and Bruce put pillows under her head for support. Silvana shook her head and said, “My father is going to kill me."

Bruce stood up. He was six and half feet tall, and when he turned around, Silvana noticed the red slashes on his back and shoulder, as if he too had been attacked, though not as badly as she had been. He approached his wardrobe and pulled a red flannel shirt off a hanger.

“You've got real threats to worry about," Bruce said, handing her his baggy shirt.

She accepted it, her heart flitting and breath sharp. “Were you at the carnival? Did you see the spirit of the Axeman and the werewolf?"

Bruce helped Silvana remove her bloody, unbuttoned shirt, and helped her into the baggy one. He buttoned it for her, his lips so close to hers they were nearly kissing. He looked her in the eyes and said, “Silvana, I am that werewolf."