“Is it true you can talk to the dead?” Well, Levi said she could, and when would I get another chance to ask her?
Showcasing none of the elegance she’d displayed at the PNT summit, Moira was dressed for a fight. Her long, fawn-colored hair had been pulled back, and her outfit would’ve had a marine weeping with respect. All the navy blue ensemble needed was a splash of camo and she’d be ready for a black-ops mission. A corner of her mouth lifted in a smirk as she gave me a head-to-toe appraisal. “Would you like to speak with someone? It’s not necessary. Continue on, and you’ll be joining the dead shortly.”
Well, crap. This was not going to be the cakewalk I hoped it would be. Fighting one handed would be a bitch. I couldn’t set the glass down, and my balance would be shit. I’d just have to wing it. “I’m not so easy to kill,” I said.
“Easier than you think.” Moira’s tone would have dropped a less stalwart warrior. She crouched in a battle stance, rocking her weight from foot to foot, and twirled the crooked swords in her hands. She didn’t wait for me to charge but ran with inhuman speed across the foyer and into the great room, where I stood like an idiot, awed by the graceful ferocity of her attack. Too bad I had to fight against her instead of alongside her.
Moira definitely had the advantage. She swung her arms with practiced precision, leaving me no choice but to parry her attacks. The force and speed of her movements sent me to the floor, and I hugged the hourglass close to my body, using the katana as a shield as she continued to attack. She lunged at me, aiming her blades for my midsection, and I landed a solid kick to her right hip, sending her stumbling back against the wall. While she collected herself, I launched my body from the floor and attacked, slicing my blade across her arm before she could defend herself.
A shriek that should have broken glass erupted from Moira’s throat, and the smug look she’d worn earlier transformed into one of mindless rage. Someone was a sore loser. Maybe that was why Reaver didn’t keep board games in the house. The break in her attack had given me the advantage, though, and positioned me close to the door. I took off running as if ghoulish fiends were chasing me, but that bitch was faster than any undead creature I’d ever seen in the movies. All I knew was one second she leaned against the wall favoring her injured arm, and the next she had me by the hair, dragging me through the open door and back into the house. I used her movement for momentum, slamming her back against a wall, but froze when I felt the cold barbs of her blade resting just below my jaw.
“No!” Reaver shouted from the top of the stairs. “Moira, you can’t!”
Her labored breath caressed my cheek, and her grip on me tightened, the steel biting farther into my skin. I felt the trickle of blood and the fusing of my skin as it healed. Reaver approached us slowly, his arms held out imploringly before him as he calmed his sister with soothing tones.
“Moira, let her go.”
What. The. Hell? My eyes widened in disbelief as I took in the worried expression on Reaver’s face. How could he possibly be concerned for the person who stole from him? If I’d found someone in my apartment stealing my stuff, the fucker would have been toast. Believe it.
“She’s not worthy,” Moira said, her voice shaking with rage. “Let me kill her or we’ll all suffer for her stupidity.”
Not the first time I’d been called stupid in the last few days. I drove my elbow into Moira’s stomach, eliciting a grunt of pain. She tightened her grip, grabbing my hair so hard, I felt strands pulling loose from my scalp. “I want her blood!”
“Get in line,” I seethed. “Let me go and I won’t separate your head from your shoulders.”
“A bold statement, indeed,” Moira laughed, “considering it’s my sword about to draw your blood.”
Reaver might be able to make some ground with his sister. At least, I hoped so, because if he didn’t, I was pretty sure Moira was going to chop me into bite-sized pieces. But before he got his chance, the front door blew off its hinges, and shit really hit the fan.
The force of the impact nearly knocked Moira off her feet, and me along with her. Splinters of wood and shards of glass littered Reaver’s pristine floors-probably the biggest mess the place had ever seen. Tyler strode through the gaping hole he’d left in the front of Reaver’s house, his hazel eyes glazed over with rage and his expression no less murderous.
“Let her go,” he said, power emanating from every syllable. “Now.”
Moira shrank against the wall, her grip on my hair becoming loose and the dagger no longer touching, but still hovering near my skin. “You shouldn’t have come here, Jinn.” Moira’s tone became sharp as a razor’s edge. “This doesn’t concern you.”
“She’s mine,” he growled. “Making this one hundred percent my concern.”
How…in…the…hell did he know where to find me? Then again, I’d always suspected our bond gave him an internal Darian tracking system. God, he was more breathtaking than any avenging angel, standing in the midst of the chaos he’d created, armed with nothing more than his good looks. It might not have been the best timing, but it sent my heart to hammering in my chest, and all I wanted to do was strip him bare and taste every inch of his flesh.
Reaver seemed to share my opinion. His eyes roamed freely enough over Tyler’s body, his interest no longer on his sister or me. He took a step forward and then another. But Tyler raised his palm as if to stay Reaver’s progress across the floor. Another surge of power wafted from the spot where Tyler stood, and Reaver stopped dead in his tracks, unable to take another step forward.
Your lover has skills. Jesus, even his thoughts projected in my mind carried a sensual appreciation for Tyler. But if you want him to come out of this in one piece, I’d get him as far away from my sister as possible.
Agreed. If this was going to boil down to a pissing match between that Sidhe witch and Tyler, I had a feeling I’d be less than happy with the outcome. Reaver gave an almost imperceptible nod of his head, no doubt agreeing with my assumption. Too bad Moira wasn’t so agreeable.
She tightened her hold on my hair, forcing my head to tilt back. With deadly purpose, she positioned the blade below my left ear, clearly ready to slice me from ear to ear. My eyes met Tyler’s, and through my fear, my guilt, the bitter taste of my deceit, I sensed his anger, his raw power, his determination to keep me safe. God. I so did not deserve him. I love you, I mouthed, knowing damned well Moira’s blade would take my head right off my shoulders in a matter of seconds.
“I’m not going to tell you again,” Tyler said to my captor. “Let her go.”
The teeth of Moira’s wicked blade bit into my flesh, and I closed my eyes, unwilling to see my death reflected in Tyler’s face. But before she could send me to my end, Tyler lashed out with a blast of energy so powerful, it sent us both sailing across the room. I waited for the impact, for the jarring of every bone as I hit the floor. I should have known what would happen next: Tyler caught me before I could land.
He held me close, one arm wrapped around my torso, his grip fierce. “Damn it, Darian.” His voice broke as he spoke close to my ear. “Why can’t you ever ask for help?”
Moira pushed herself up from the floor, a gash in her head spilling blood down her temple. She stumbled as she tried to stand, her knees giving out and sending her back to the floor. “She’ll destroy everything we know,” she said from between clenched teeth.