Beautiful Warrior Read Online Free PDF

far back can you remember about this world? About 105?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Do you remember when you were first created?”
    “I was thirteen , the same age you said you were when you created me.”
    “Where did you live?”
    “Here in the woods. By myself.” 
    “Duncan lived on the streets when he was that age . He was just wandering around by himself with no memory.”
    “From the trauma he can’t recall?”
    “Yes.”
    “So he survived alone, the way I did?”
    “No . A homeless man named Jack looked after him, then he was taken away from Jack and put into foster care. That’s where children live in other people’s homes,” I added when he gave me a puzzled look. Apparently what he knew about my world didn’t include social services. “But Duncan didn’t like staying with unfamiliar families. He considered Jack his family. Jack was sick, though. In the head.”  I pointed to my own brain, demonstrating what I meant without really saying that I was sick, too.
    “Where is Jack now?”
    “Gone.”
    “Dead?”
    “Yes.”
    “Death is power.”  
    “No it isn’t . Not to me.”  I’d started to go mad after my parents were killed. The stress of losing them had kick-started my schizophrenia into high gear, triggering psychotic episodes, like giving myself a little sister who believed in a place called Room 105.
    Because I was getting cold, I wrapped my arms across my freshly bathed body. The fire wasn’t keeping me warm. The conversation wasn’t helping, either.
    I wanted to change the subject . But the only thing that came to mind was another emotional topic. I asked, “How many other women have you been with?”
    He furrowed his brows . “Why does that matter?”
    “It just does.”  Duncan had been with a slew of other girls and I did my darnedest to keep from being jealous.
    “I don’t keep count . But there have been quite a few.”
    “Who are they?” I boldly inquired, reminding him of how isolated he was out here. Besides, he’d told me that he rarely had visitors. Had he lied about that?
    “My other lovers are wood nymphs.”  
    I blinked in surprise . Then I imagined how enchanting they must be, these female sirens who danced through the trees and offered themselves to him. “Am I the first mortal girl you’ve been with?”
    “Yes . That’s why I wanted you so badly.”  He moved closer, and we kissed.
    I couldn’t help how special he made me feel . How seductive. How wild. I tugged him tight against my body.
    He backed me against the wall, and I knew that he was going to make love to me one last time.
    He removed his knife, but not his pants. He merely pushed them down, freeing himself quickly.
    Lord . Mercy.
    He filled me with his hardness, with his strength and power, and my body pulsed with every thrust. As he lifted my arms above my head, holding me in place, I thought about how people collected dead butterflies and put pins through them.
    I was being pinned, too . Only, unlike those butterflies, I was alive, my heart fluttering as rapidly as a pair of wings.
    The warrior pounded into me, moving fast and rough, pushing me toward a heat-spiraling climax, my arms still raised above my head. When it ended, when we both came, he released me, and I nearly sagged to the floor.
    Once I recovered, I gathered my clothes and got dressed. All he had to do was readjust his pants and strap the knife back on.
    “ Am I supposed to leave today, too?” I asked. “To go home after the others are free to cross the border?”
    He nodded . “You can restore what you have with Duncan.”
    I longed to see Duncan, to resume our relationship, but not if he remained in danger of dying.
    I gazed at the w arrior, still feeling the impact of his pinned-against-the-wall lovemaking. I wanted to wrap my arms around him, but we were standing far apart now, a painful gap between us. He was willing to let me go and return to his wood nymphs. Would Duncan do that someday, as well? Would he