A young woman is out on a job when she finds herself stuck between a demon and a hard place, fighting for her life when she is rescued by a powerful stranger who offers to help her and continue the trained that was abandoned by her previous mentor. What could go wrong?
A story that I wrote a long while ago and finally have the chance to actually post it, this is one more on the action and starting of romance side, I hope you all enjoy it! Here is a small snippet from the story~
Huffing to catch her breath, a young woman presses her back against a crumbled ancient wall as she pushes her sweat drenched hair out of her face with a blood covered hand. Unfortunately covered in her own blood as a series of cuts cover her arms, both deep and shallow, while she holds a long-curved scimitar in hand. Thick wavy red hair hangs back as her dark eyes scan her surroundings, alone for the moment though she knows not for very long. She can feel the right side of her face and shoulder cling tight as the burn scar acts up at this inopportune moment, forcing her to reach up and try to massage the scar that contrasts with her fair skin. Sweat drips from her body as the light armor she wears starts to feel much too heavy, knowing this fight has been going for too long against her.
As the thought of the flight crosses her mind, on the wind is a horse unnatural laughter that sends a hateful chill up her spine. Out of the darkness around her she can see shapes move and make themselves known, though she wishes they would just flee. Each shape is an inhuman mass of flesh and claws, each with a large sharp tooth filled mouth but not an eye among them. She spits on the ground and pushes off from the wall, getting back into a fighting stance as she prepares for their next attack. The sound of dripping can be heard from her arms as well as her blade, covered in a mixture of her own blood and oily black ichor. Looking across the forms she spots the one she struck first, three shallow but bleeding cuts across its body, while the other two took her by surprise and left her in such a worn state.
So far she has been able to keep up with them, but they are relentless, while she is at the end of her rope and unsure if she can take much more. Feeling that fear and anxiety well up inside her, she takes a calming breath and feels her world narrow to just the demons in front of her. They continue to chuckle their discordant laugh at her, whether so sure of themselves or unable to do much else other than laugh and hunt. Time slows as he waits a moment longer before seeing a flash of moment to her side, dodging at the last moment as one lunged with a set of claws. Under the swing, she brings her scimitar up and cuts under the arm with a two-handed swing. The blade only cuts a few inches deep, the thick blubbery skin absorbing most of the force, but still deep enough to force more of the ichor to drip out of its body.
Art by Yoyopopo: [https://twitter.com/yoyopopo14]
If you are interested in more you can find the story here:
[https://archiveofourown.org/works/33415954/chapters/83005747]
If you would like to read more of my stories you can find them here:
[https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeanShannon/pseuds/SeanShannon/works]
If you would like to commission a story of your own you can find the commission form here: