A little original western whump fic to welcome in the end of the year.
Hunted, wounded, and certain he won't survive another sunrise, a shackled man risks his life to save a widow from a violent attacker--only to find himself taken in and given the first safety he's known in years.
Warning: This will get very whumpy (in the best possible way) and there will be no cutting away from the hurt or comfort scenes. Adult themes may be touched upon in this story, these moments will be written with care and not gratuitous.
I cowered in the darkest corner of the old barn, hidden behind cobwebs and broken farm equipment.Β My pants were soaked with sweat and pissβI couldnβt help it.Β Fear had rooted me in place.Β If they found meβ¦ if they took me backβ¦ Iβd rather die in the shadows than be dragged back to that hell.
I hadnβt run far enough; I knew it.Β But my wounds had stolen the last of my strength, and the hole from the bullet that tore through my thigh refused to stop bleeding.
Feverish and starving, a shiver worked its way up my spine, the shackles at my wrists and ankles jangled as I shuddered.Β Dusk settled outside; the air cooled and seeped into my bones.
I let my eyelids close for just a moment, just long enough to pretend the world was quiet when the door unlatched and scraped open.Β A pair of voices carried in on the draft.Β A woman.Β And his. My heart hammered so hard it hurt.Β I knew that voice.
A lanternβs glow crawled across the dirt, reaching out toward me.Β Knees to my chest, I ducked behind my arms, trembling, gut twisting so tight I thought Iβd retch.
βYou can rest here till morning, then be on your way,β the woman said.Β Her tone was firm, not frightened.Β She didnβt know the danger she had invited in.
βMuch obliged, miss,β Knox replied.Β I could hear the smile in his voiceβsmarmy, yellow-toothed, and proud.Β He fancied himself a charmer, though the only women who ever suffered his company were those he paid for or forced.
βI surely appreciate your hospitality,β he went on.Β βIβve been in the saddle for days.β
βAinβt no reason to be leaving so soon,β he drawled.Β βItβs a might chillyβ¦ and Iβm awful lonely.β
I clutched my hair, digging my fingers into the curls until my scalp burned.Β The sound of rustling and fabric ripping split the air.Β The woman cried out.Β I curled into myself tighter, hands clamped over my ears, desperate to block it out, but his laugh and her scream burrowed straight through me.
Something heavy fellβtools clattered to the ground.Β Knox howled.
I jerked upright, eyes wide.Β The woman stood over him, a hammer raised, breath shaking.Β She turned to run, but Knox lunged, catching her by the waist.Β He slammed her against the workbench, folding her over it.Β His hand traced the curves of her body as though they were meant for him. She fought hard.
He fumbled at his belt buckle.
With whatever strength fever and fear hadnβt taken from me, I used to lung at Knox, I wrapped the chains of my shackles around his throat, jerking him back.
βWy...attβ!β he choked, clawing at my arms.Β His nails tore lines down my forearms as he tried to pull the chains free.Β Knox pushed backwards, slamming me against the wall.
βNo more,β I breathed into his ear.
He hammered his elbows into my ribs, cracked a fist across my cheek, but I held on, pulling back tighter.Β Pulling until the fight left his body.Β Until he sagged.
When his weight slumped fully against me, I stumbled and collapsed under it.Β The dirt rose to meet me.Β My lungs burned, searching for air that wouldnβt come.Β The world blurred, then dimmedβ¦ then finally went dark.
Shackled: A Light Across the Floor
