Eyes vs Franklin

Ryn slipped her glasses from her eyes, pocketing them, stepping forward almost into Franklin. With apologies, Ms. Cross.
Denise blinked slowly and froze at the sight of Ryn’s bowed head and eyes, her blue-burning eyes that proved Hell was a cold place she carried inside her; Denise slipped mercifully back into unconsciousness.
Make your move.” He bared teeth again. “Show me, you puffed-up cunt.”
Lifting her jaw, she showed him.
Franklin stared back into the absolute assurance of the supernatural and stopped baring his teeth, stopped speaking.
This was a magic older than words. The magic in her eyes marked Ryn for what she was; they set her apart, gave the gods cause to banish her from states and nations—they were solid black except for the searing light of her irises, and no mortal could look upon them and doubt her inhumanity.
A closing throat choked off his scream and he couldn’t tear himself from Ryn’s gaze; his color drained from pale to chalk, and he reclined his head as far as he could, fighting to look away, but unable until she released him. A thin whimper rose from his lungs.
Ryn snapped her canines at him and he released his prize. Denise landed softly in Ryn’s embrace as Franklin windmilled his arms in a mad backward leap that sent him crashing to the floor. He crab-crawled away on all fours, screaming a string of “fuck”s until his back hit a wall.
Ryn eased her glasses back on, shifting Denise into Naomi’s arms. She pivoted toward Franklin’s pack mates, who’d never seen her eyes—that display had been Franklin’s alone. The one Ryn had marked bolted at her, reaching for her hoodie. “You’re mine, you little—”
She snatched his wrist, twisting. The pop satisfied on nearly a spiritual level, as did his shriek. He buckled and Ryn backhanded him, snapping his head violently to one side. He crashed to elbows and knees at Ryn’s feet.
Using his back as a springboard, she leapt and sailed onto the pack mate behind him. Pincering her knees to his shoulders, she punched straight down into his face. Again and again and again, she hit him; he couldn’t get his arms up to block, so she took her time. A dozen shots changed his face’s shape and color, from pale to purple under her thorough ministration. Teeth and blood flew over her shoulder; she broke his nose, the orbit of one eye. When he collapsed, Ryn sprang free, alighting to the floor.
The marked man she’d floored attempted to stand, so she planted her knee into his jaw, flattening him again.
“My God, you psychopath, you broke his nose!” cried the brunette, rushing to tend the marked man.
“Nose once, jaw twice; wrist in six places.” I’m not done yet, either. Heal, you dog. I will be back for you
all. She steered her gaze to Franklin. Especially you.
Perhaps Franklin understood, because as Ryn held his gaze, even the memory of what lurked behind her sunglasses spread a dark stain at the crotch of his pants.


Chapter 9, Page 134-135