Closer To Sin by Elizabeth Squire

against the wall.
    The bone jarring impact against the rough stone drove the breath from her lungs and deprived her of that short instance where she could have run for safety. In less than a second her assailant was upon her, pinning her to the wall with one hand around her throat and a knee pushed viciously between her legs.
    ‘Putain,’ he spat. ‘You will pay for that. No woman lays a hand on me, and no woman takes my blood.’ His breath washed over her in fetid tide of decay.
    Liliane shrunk back from the venom in his voice. Surely someone would notice what was happening to her and put a stop to it. Except the altercation had erupted into a full brawl. The sound of grunts and groans as fists pounded flesh assaulted her ears. Her vision momentarily altered and panic clawed its way into her throat as she started to breathe in rapid, shallow gasps.
    Liliane cringed further against the wall and felt the pressure of something sharp digging into her hip. May the fates forgive me . She slid shaking fingers into the pocket of her pelisse and wrapped her hand around the knife’s grip, grateful for the afterthought that had prompted her to conceal the weapon in her gown. Slowly, she released the knife from its sheath and dragged it from her pocket.
    The bone handle felt sturdy and reassuring in her hand. She raised her chin and slowly straightened her shoulders, drawing her right arm backwards. Her heart drummed hard against her ears, drowning out the roar of the brawling mob. Determinedly, she positioned the blade hard against his ribs. Alert to her movement her captor made eye contact with her.
    Lilian smiled. ‘I suggest, vermin, you let me go.’ She pushed the knife a little harder against him. ‘Or you will find yourself bleeding all over this tavern floor. And by the look of things right now, I doubt anyone would care. Now step away from me.’
    Before he could make any response, the man was roughly shoved from behind. The force of the push flattened him against her, slamming him onto the knife. Liliane felt her hand being wedged between their bodies. The hilt of the knife tore at her the soft flesh of her palm while the blade sliced through her assailant’s clothing and sunk into his skin, glancing off the ribs below. Blood streamed through his thin shirt coating her hand with its sticky warmth before spreading into a rapidly expanding stain. Still grasping the knife, Liliane pushed him from her. Acid streaked from her stomach into her mouth and, aghast, she vomited onto the floor. Beyond her the fight continued.
    She dragged a sleeve across her mouth and ran. As she reached the doorway a hand grabbed her and hauled her through the opening. Oh dear Lord, not again . She fought against the steel grip that bowled her across the courtyard and through a door into a narrow, dimly lit corridor.
    ‘Mon Dieu, I leave you alone for one moment and you start a tavern brawl,’ a menacing voice growled against her ear.
    ‘Sin, oh thank God.’ Panicked, she sought to explain the last few terrifying moments. ‘I don’t know what happened. One moment I was walking through the tap room to meet you, and the next everyone was fighting. There was a man. He, he—’
    ‘He what, mon fleur ?’ Sin prompted, his voice like ice.
    Waving the knife, she searched for the words to describe what just happened. ‘He, he— I stabbed him. He had hold of me. He wouldn’t stop touching me.’ Panting deeply, she struggled to draw breath. ‘There was blood everywhere, I think I killed him—’ she sobbed.
    Darting a quick glance along the corridor, Sin flung open the door to the private salon he had so hastily vacated, and unceremoniously shoved her into the room. Liliane swung around to face him but drew up short under his withering regard.
    He coldly held out his hand. ‘Now give me that before we incur any further casualties.’
    Reluctant to argue with him she meekly handed over the knife and allowed him to propel her to the corner