“Gather round boys, looks like we found ourselves a treasure.” Ronan watched the tall leader of the group step forward as he sneered exposing his yellow teeth. Two subordinates stood behind the tall disheveled man bouncing wooden clubs in their hands. Ronan intuitively reached up withdrawing his sword from the sheath on his back. He sized up the three ruffians and their rudimentary weapons and stated. “We do not want any trouble. Let us pass unharmed.” The man with the yellow teeth laughed answering Ronan. “Not going to happen mate. We have our orders for your head on a platter followed by hers.” The tall ruffian pointed at Isabella. “Once we have had our fun with her of course.”

Tightening his grip on his sword handle, Ronan spat back at the leader. “Well mate, it is your funeral.” The dark-haired warlock motioned with his other hand for Isabella to take refuge behind him. Ronan knew he had to count on his skills with the sword as he could not complete the ritual in time to gain access to his powers. He was not concerned as he was an excellent swordsman thanks to his father’s training. Ronan found practicing magic drifted into other aspects of his daily life. Even with the threat of battle imminent his senses sharpened as he waited for one of the hooligans to make their move.

Ronan prepared for the attack by slightly separating his feet while leaning forward. The sneering man lunged at him swinging his fist as Ronan sidestepped the punch. He was surprised that Isabella instinctively followed his movements. Fearing she may be too close to him, Ronan whispered over his shoulder. “Back up Princess.” Once he heard her feet shuffle in the dirt, he decided this was the best time to lunge against his opponent. Bounding forward he swung his sword sideways satisfied to hear the tall man grunt. The man with the yellow teeth lost his sneer as he stumbled backwards, as a second man raced towards Ronan with a club raised in the air.

Anticipating his attack, Ronan stepped forward to block the club with his arm. He winced as the wooden mallet slammed full force on his forearm. Glaring at his attacker, Ronan stepped back to raise his leg and kicked the man hard in the stomach. The man wheezed as he collapsed like a ragdoll to the ground. Ronan grounded his feet in the dirt to face his other opponents. The leader motioned for the third man to attack Ronan as he held one arm to his bleeding torso. The third man did not approach Ronan head on but moved to the side of the warlock. Acutely aware that the men could attack him from both angles, Ronan backed up slightly to raise his sword.

The dark-haired warlock’s gaze shifted between the men waiting for the impending assault. The third man with grungy blonde hair growled as he leapt towards Ronan. The warlock gripped the hilt of his sword as he pushed the weapon into the third man’s stomach. Isabella’s voice cut through the air. “Ronan, he has a knife!” With his sword stuck in the third man, Ronan hunched his arms and shoulders forward to protect his vulnerable torso as the leader struck him. He heard Isabella’s scream as he felt the painful sting on his underarm. Ronan let go of his sword and with all his might punched the leader hard in the face.

The third man with Ronan’s sword still stuck in his torso crumpled onto the ground as the leader was propelled backwards by the punch. The dark-haired warlock reached under his arm and pulled the knife out of his side. Ronan observed the red liquid covering the blade as he saw all three of his opponents lay on the ground. The second man he had kicked struggled to get on his feet when his leader yelled at him. “Get him.” Ronan stepped forward grasping onto his sword and pulling it free from the man on the ground with one strong yank. With his two weapons, Ronan held them upwards prepared for another assault. The man he kicked standing on his feet fearfully watched Ronan and then turned and ran in the opposite direction.

The leader of the group screamed to the running man. “Come back here, you coward!” Ronan still holding up his weapons watched as the man sneered at him. Admitting defeat, the leader of the group moved towards the man lying on the ground. He placed his head under the fallen man’s arm and helped the man to his feet. He continued to sneer and glare at Ronan as he aided the other man to begin walking away from Ronan and Isabella. The dark-haired warlock kept his weapons raised and did not allow himself to relax until the two men were further away. Once he was sure they were no longer a threat, Ronan sighed and dropped his arms.

The dark-haired warlock turned towards Isabella as he placed his hand on his side to check the wound. Ronan saw her face was pale with a fearful expression, and he asked her. “Isabella, how are you doing?” The black-haired beauty rushed over to Ronan’s side as she exclaimed. “You are worried about me? Dear god man, you are the one who has been stabbed.” Isabella rushed over to stand in front of Ronan. “Can I see the wound? How deep have you been cut?” The dark-haired warlock still felt a stinging in his side, but to be honest he has endured worse lacerations. He did not complain as she fussed over him and lifted his shirt up over his head. From his hand over the gash, he could tell the bleeding had slowed down.

But to Isabella, she was still visibly shaken by him sustaining any injuries. She was probably more distressed from the assault than she was aware of. Attempting to reassure her, Ronan stated. “It is fine. It is more superficial than deep.” Her head tilted up to gaze at him, and the dark-haired warlock saw her brow creased in worry. Ronan felt a strong urge to hold her to reassure her that everything was fine. Isabella exclaimed. “I should wrap the wound. Can you sit down for me please? You are too tall.” Ronan did not feel she gave him a chance to explain as she grabbed his hand and pulled him down to sit on the ground.

Seated on the footpath, Isabella reached down and picked up her skirt hem and ferociously pulled at the fabric. She tore off a patch of material and moved his arm upwards to have access to the abrasion. As she dabbed the excess blood, Ronan had the opportunity to study her face close-up. Gazing at her, he appreciated how angelic she looked. From her high cheekbones to her straight petite nose to her full luscious lips, Ronan was mesmerized at how beautiful she is. When he first heard about her predicament, his first instinct was to protect her and kidnap her from the kingdom. But when he first saw her during the warlock competitions, he forgot how to breathe.

Ronan began to feel uncomfortable with Isabella so close to him as he lowered his arm down. “It is fine. Do not worry about it.” Her soft fingertips against his skin unnerved him as he tried to push her away. Isabella glanced up at him with concern in her soft brown eyes. “But…Ronan…we should get this taken care of.” Trying to appear stoic, Ronan gently pulled his shirt from her hand. He reminded himself that Isabella was spoken for. If not by her Dulra husband but by his new friend Samuel. Arranging his brown shirt, he pulled the material up over his head and down his torso. He just had to push past his attraction for her.

It was difficult for him to achieve as Isabella gazed up at him with a questioning look. Ronan’s eyes fell onto the splotchy blue mark on her cheek. Without thinking he raised his hand to lightly touch the side of her face. “That’s a nasty bruise Princess.” Her eyes cast downward in what he could only assume as embarrassment. Ronan hoped he could convince her that she should not be treated this manner. He stated to her. “You deserve so much better. No man should ever lay a hand on you in anger.” Isabella prepared to speak, and Ronan expected her to defend her vampire husband’s actions. “I do not care if he is a king or a commoner. A man should only touch you in love.”

Isabella fell silent as Ronan continued to softly stroke her bruised cheek. Wordlessly, the black-haired beauty gazed up into his eyes. He brushed his thumb against her pink lips as he fought the urge to bow his head down to kiss her. Isabella reached her hand up and placed it atop his on her face. Succumbing to his desire, Ronan bent his head lower to Isabella’s and watched as her eyes fluttered close. Ever so lightly he brushed his lips against hers and heard her let out a sigh. Ronan felt the world come to a stop as he gently kissed Isabella. He never knew he could feel so much about a woman he had just met.

Their tender moment was interrupted as Ronan heard stomping coming down the hill towards them. He pulled his head up and opened his eyes to see Samuel running scared. Ronan heard a small groan emit from Isabella’s lips at his separation. He pulled his hand from her face and watched as she composed herself. Ronan began to stand as Samuel hurriedly shouted at him. “Is everything alright? I had just learned that damn carriage was meant as a distraction.” The dark-haired warlock answered him. “We are fine. Just a minor scrap with a few men, but Isabella is fine.” Ronan reached down and held out his hand for Isabella to assist her in rising to her feet.

She placed her tiny hand in his and she rose to stand beside Ronan. With a slight blush on her cheek Isabella explained to Samuel. “We should summon the doctor as Ronan has been injured.”