Game of Thrones (Amica and Deckard) novel Chapter 8

“Shut up… you hag!” A hand slaps me hard across the face and I taste the silver tang of blood. They drag me further across the field, body scraping against the ground as I cough. I manage to catch a glimpse of the crowd and they have multiplied. They are pressing against each other, surrounding me like vultures.

Rough hands grab at my clothes, tugging, pulling. I’ve reached my limit. There’s nothing left, no strength, no resistance—only Ezra’s voice in my mind.

“Deckard!” I scream.

In an instance, fire bursts around the circle, scorching the ground but sparing me. The people who just seconds ago attacked taunted me are now scrambling in terror. I see a male moving within the fire, swift as a shadow, hurling bodies aside like they weigh peanuts.

Screams pierce the air as each one is flung into the sky, only to come crashing down with a shutting thud. Panic is severe and their once bold faces have turned into horror as they flee. I watch as they flee but I’m looking for the male who is doing this. I have caught his scent.

I know it and somehow, they flames do not touch him.

I see him. There is fire in his claws, it bends and obeys him.

“Deckard,” I breathe.

And for the first time, I feel safe.