By FoxFaceStories

A Commission for Slayerangel

Darian Mitchell is a depressed young man with zero prospects and a hidden desire to be a woman. Struggling with a toxic family and an uncaring girlfriend, Darian’s life changes when he receives a fantasy novel that seems far, far too real. In fact, Darian begins to find himself transported into this other world, where he is a gorgeous redheaded princess named Dinah. But as reality starts to become uncertain, which world will he choose? And which life?

First Parts

Previous Part

Chapter 7: A Dark Encounter

I expected to wake up from the book. Instead, I woke up sitting on a horse, and quickly realised I was tied to it by a series of thick ropes. I was still in my torn dress, though I’d been given a forest-green cloak to cover my shoulders and bust for modesty’s sake, which was something, I guess. My shoulder still hurt, though not as much as it had. I could feel a dressing on it, at least. The others were around me, about a dozen bandits or rangers or whatever they were in total, each astride their own horse but for one that had two: two white-haired dark elves who looked perfectly comfortable with one another. 

It took me a moment to realise that my horse was being led on a rope that connected to the one in front of me, upon which rode a man who could only have been the group’s leader. He was the only one with much finer clothing; an expensive-looking burgundy riding cloak that trailed over his form, and riding boots that looked weathered yet continually polished. Even his steed looked more impressive.

“She’s awake,” one of the dark elf women said.

“And alert,” the one behind her said, her arms around her partner’s waist.

The man at the head of the column raised his hand, and the procession of horses halted. He shifted his own mount around, trotting about to get a better look at me, extending out the rope that tethered my horse to his to allow it. This, of course, allow me to get a better look at him, and-

Oh.

Oh my.

I mean, I knew that even as a beautiful younger woman, my body was attracted to other ladies. I hadn’t realised until this very moment that I was also attracted to men. The rider of the horse was not some stereotypical hunk, but his looks were entrancing all the same. There was something bird-like about him, from the sharp definition of his nose, his impressively high cheekbones, and the way his dark brown eyes pierced me like those of a hunting hawk’s. He pulled back his hood and shook out his hair, revealing a gorgeous black mop that fell almost to his shoulders, slightly curled and chaotic in its appearance, but in a way that gave him a roguish charm. His skin was pale, but not in an unhealthy way. When he smiled, it was all suaveness and charm, and I found myself smiling like some lunatic goofball as he inspected me over.

“Well, how about that! Our intruder awakes! How go ye, fine noblewoman of . . . where exactly?”

I steeled myself, or at least tried to. The man was grinning in a way that should have made me hate him, but it was impossible to do so.

“I am Lady Daphne Bridgerton of London,” I proclaimed, drawing upon what knowledge I could of Selina’s favourite show. “I am travelling on to the lands of UIstead, where I am expected to have an audience with the king. Unfortunately, I was waylaid by bandits. It seems, sadly, I am waylaid again.”

“Fascinating!” the man declared, his voice light and amused. “I have never heard of such a family - the Bridgertons, you say?”

“Indeed!” I replied indignantly. “I suppose riffraff like you are not accustomed to being in the presence of a true lady and her family, however. I was held against my will in Varkath, which is falling ever more to vile Praythan influence, but with the help of some faithful allies I managed to escape through a secret tunnel beneath the city. If you take me north, there are allies who will pay handsomely for my return. So long as I am safe and these bindings are released!”

The bandits looked at one another, and then, to my supreme embarrassment, they all burst out laughing, the man in the lead most of all.

“Well, well, we have caught not just a stray Varkathian,” the man said, “but an imposter at that!”

“I am no imposter, I am of Ulstead, and-”

“And I am of Ulstead as well,” the man said, bowing upon his horse. “Allow me to introduce myself, Lady Daphne, though I am certain that is not your real name. I am Xander Murgrave of Ulstead, former diplomat of King Hartigan, now sadly exiled due to Praythan takeover. It seems your cover story needs updating on major geopolitical events, my Lady.”

I felt my pale cheeks go positively rouge in colour. Damn this body! As lovely as it was, it also had a million ways of humiliating a guy. 

“I - perhaps you have never heard of me! Mine is a minor noble family, and-”

“And as a diplomat in service to Ulstead, part of my duties was to know every branch of every noble family in the kingdom.”

I swallowed. “I am originally from Fenn.”

“Your accent is Varkathian.”

“My mother was Varkathian.”

“So is your style of dress.”

“I was held captive!”

“And yet the Varkathian tradition of cutting a noble’s hair to above the shoulder was held back in your case because?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Would you cut my hair?”

That took him back, and a few of his fellow bandits actually chuckled at this. But then he flashed me that roguish smile again. “I would rather destroy an ancient work of art than disgrace your beauty so.”

Woah. He was capital C Charming. I hated him already. 

“Tell me,” Xander Murgrave continued. “How much longer do you intend to continue this woefully inaccurate resume, my Lady? We aim to sell you for a good price somewhere, once we find out who you are, and if we can’t get the truth of the matter, we might as well leave you to fend for yourself here in the Twisted Woods. And trust me, the epithet is well given. There are creatures in this forest that will curl your spine - figuratively and then literally. So please, save us some time, right gents and ladies?”

“Hear, hear!” rang the returning chorus.

“Plus, I’d like my horse back!” the dark elven woman riding shotgun proclaimed. “Prixa has no idea how to ride properly.

“Oh please, Mahireth, you are far worse than I.”

They shared an amused smile as Prixa looked back at Mahireth, and to my surprise they kissed. I’d assumed they were sisters, but now that I saw them more clearly, they didn’t look related. They were lovers. A small part of me flinched at their teasing but genuine affection; how could they find love so clearly when my own romantic partners  were so vile and traitorous in two separate realities!?

“So you see,” Xander continued, riding a lot closer to me now, to the point where I could smell his nauseatingly sweet perfume. “We are at the point where answers are required.”

“I owe you nothing,” I declared, holding my head up high in pride, though I noticed that his eyes flicked briefly to my equally proud bosom. To his credit, he’d held off a lot on checking out my ample bust. I was almost flattered that he’d managed such an effort. 

“I am exactly what I -”

I stopped. He was smiling, and there was nothing menacing in that smile, but those dark brown eyes could see straight through me, and we both knew it. I was only delaying the inevitable, and perhaps I could gain some trust in being honest. Or leverage.

“Fine, you have caught me out, sir,” I said. “Remove my restraints and I will tell you.”

He scoffed, and a few of his companions laughed. “And why might I do that?”

“I’m not going to run anywhere, am I? Please, I beg you, at least give me this dignity.”

He shrugged, and gestured for Mahireth to get off of her horse. She approached with a knife, and for a moment I was terrified, but then she simply cut my restraints, freeing me from my tether to this horse and allowing me to rub my wrists. She began to walk back to Prixa’s horse, giving me a moment of closer privacy with Xander. 

“And now, good lady,” he said softly. “Perhaps some honesty will-”

I snatched out a hand and pulled the sharp dagger from the sheath on his thigh, and then put all my force into the kick, and it was clearly enough of a surprise to him that he went barrelling off of his horse. His own horse reared up in surprise, but I already had the rope tethering my steed to his in my hand. I pulled it tight against the dagger, expecting more resistance, but it sliced through so quickly that I howled from the brief yet sharp sting across my hand; the knife had cut right across my palm. Still, I took the reins of my horse and pulled.

“Go!” I cried, and it bolted.

The only problem was, while no doubt the character of Dinah knew how to ride a horse, I absolutely did not. I barely managed to get my feet into the stirrups as the crowd behind me shouted and began their chase. I looked back, barely clinging on to the horse’s back, and already they were gaining. How were they doing that? Did I have to pull the reins tighter? Perhaps -

“Aghhh!” I cried, as I pulled too much to the left, which caused my horse to veer so. We dashed into the woods, descending down the bank and across a wide yet shallow stream.

“Damn it!” someone screamed, a booming male voice that wasn’t Xander’s. “She’s gone into the thick of it!”

Branches streamed past me, further tearing at my already-injured skin. The horse was truly bolting, and I had no clever way to control it other than what I’d seen in films, and it was much harder than I’d imagined it to be in real life. I tried to get the horse to turn into a clearing, but I got the sense that the creature was as panicked as I was by this point. We swept through the so-called Twisted Wood, making our passage between tight spaces of trees. I looked back just for a moment and saw no pursuit. Even though I was terrified, I couldn’t help but laugh with relief.

And then a thick leafy branch took me square in the face and I was knocked off the horse immediately. I didn’t even make a sound; it happened far too quickly. But I certainly squealed in pain as I landed on my chest. I’d never before experienced the pain that a large-chested woman goes through when she lands her boobs upon a hard surface with her full weight behind it. 

“Oh, f-fuck!” I cried. I’d landed in the water of an inch-deep stream. My lungs burned. I barely had any breath left. Still, I managed to crawl out, pain still radiating through my chest and poor boobs, which were hanging out much more than I’d care for them to be at this point. God, how did women stand being this big-chested? Don’t get me wrong, they were good boobs, but this hurt! The pain extended to my shoulder, and I realised then that it was bleeding again; the wound had opened and the dressing was gone.

“Shit! Where is?”

But what was I thinking? I had to get moving! I grabbed the dagger from the ground; thankfully I hadn’t lost it. I managed to stand and hide behind a tree just in time as several more horses bolted by. They were still chasing my lost steed. Ha! Perhaps I’d done something accidentally clever in falling down. I hid up against the trunk until I was sure they were gone.

“Thank God,” I whispered to myself. “Now if only I can figure out where I need to-”

I stood out from the cover of the tree and immediately was right in front of Xander Murgrave. For just a moment, we both looked at one another; him still well-dressed, me covered in mud and with my tits nearly falling out. 

“There you are!” he announced lightly. “Need fixing up again?”

I held out Xander’s dagger, preparing to defend myself, but he was much, much faster than I was. He moved forward rapidly and twisted my arm, forcing me to drop the dagger. I yelled out in surprise and anger and tried to kick him in the balls - I had it on good experience that it could be debilitating - but instead he blocked me there too. I tripped backwards as he gripped me, and for the first time I saw surprise on his handsome face as he was pulled along with me. We landed right back in that shallow stream, my ass and back getting soaked all over again, and his face -

His face right in my tits.

Xander raised his head and looked at me. For a second moment, we both froze, realising just how unbelievably compromising this position was. The cloth of my dress was barely covering my nipples, and now that it was also wet from before, said nipples were very, very obviously outlined against the fabric. He blushed immediately and stood up.

“My sincerest apologies,” he said. “I didn’t meant to-”

“How dare you!” I cried, batting his offered hand away, despite the pain in my shoulder. I stood and began to cover myself. “First you tie down an innocent woman, and then you interrogate her, and then you chase her when she rightfully tries to escape through the woods, and now you put your face in my-”

He moved again, gripped me and pulled me back against the tree, his hand upon my mouth just like Master Pruitt’s had been the previous day.

“Get your hand off me!” I exclaimed in a muffled voice. Fear flooded me. Oh God, was he about to rape me? I had no defences against this man, and I was a very attractive woman with a large pair of breasts and very little clothing left. Even the cloak they’d put on me was gone. I began to squirm and writhe. I’d do anything to avoid such a fate. Was the Wandering Witch actually this cruel? No! I was going to fight this! I was not going to let this man sexually assault me! I went to scream for help, hoping against hope that his bandit friends would think he was going too far - perhaps the women could save me. Already, tears were forming in my eyes as I struggled.

“Help!” I squeaked. “He’s trying to-”

The sentence died in my throat. I could hear something else further along in the woods, a low and patient snarl, like the purr of a great cat only with a deeper guttural growl to it. 

“Shhh,” Xander whispered. “Don’t move. It hunts on sight. Don’t move, my Lady.”

He lowered his hand, and I realised then that he wasn’t planning to violate my body. He was protecting me from something dark and horrible that was lurching in the far distance where the forest grew dark. It was a large black shape, bear-like but far, far bigger. It was like a blackhole; I couldn’t make out its shape, only notice where the dark trees were suddenly eclipsed by something far darker. Against the grass, six limbs trod, heavy like elephant’s feet. I wasn’t even sure if it had spied us, and then two pinpricks of crimson light shifted into view, and I realised that it was turning to face us.

“Close your eyes,” Xander whispered, and I did. God help me, I did.

He reached very, achingly slowly into my pocket and placed a balm of sorts into my wound. I had to bite on my lip to stop from making a sound, but soon the pain there faded. 

“Sorry,” he whispered again. “It’ll block the scent of your blood and help the wound.”

He held me, and where moments ago I had been terrified at his doing so, now I pushed firmly against him. His arms were around my stomach, but I could feel the cold glint of steel against my thigh as well; he had a sword, and it was drawn and ready, just in case. Our breathing became one as the thing plodded closer. I could only hear it at first, those heavy steps, but then I could feel it. It was massive, and that low growling continued, a discordant tune that sounded like a broken orchestra rumbling in its ribcage. My heart quickened and then slowed, as if unsure whether to give up entirely.

“Don’t move.” he repeated in my ear. “It’s going to be okay.”

I didn’t believe him, but all I knew was I didn’t want to be anywhere away from Xander Murgrave right now, no matter how much he irritated me. Something sniffed the air around us, and I could feel blasts of heat against my body. It was right in front of us. I was looming over us. I knew that if I opened my eyes I would see it.

I kept them closed.

It was only minutes later that Xander released his grip upon me. I couldn’t help myself. I sobbed and weeped and immediately held him. To my surprise, he held me gently back.

“It’s okay, my Lady. It’s more than okay. It’s gone now. It’s gone, and you’re alive. Let’s get you back to safety, eh? But the next time you steal a horse, please stay on the trails, hmm?”

I laughed, and then sobbed some more. I didn’t let him go for some time.

To Be Continued . . .