She was going to leave him.
With no explanation as to why she had left, why she had started the fight with him if she was just going to run off. She was going to leave him with no explanation as to why she had made love to him in the dark hours of the night as if this was how it was going to end—as if it had been a farewell.
It wasn’t an explanation he wanted from her, though. Not truly. No, this time, as he stared at her with the knife pressed to her neck and the singed, black monster standing behind her… This time, he wanted the explanation from God.
Why would He have let all this good happen to Alec, just to rip it away from him in the cruelest of ways? More importantly, why would He do this to her?
As Alec stared at the crazy, wild, free-spirited woman who had a drinking problem he had grown to love, he knew there were only two options at this point. Treat carefully or act swiftly. It seemed at this point, that the only course of cation there was to take…was the latter.
The demon, even from this distance, had a glint of resolution in his eyes. He was determined to kill her whether he survived or not. It was amazing how the creature was alive and moving as it was—as if it was by pure rage that his body held onto life.
All of his men froze. While they had not realized the important of Blay’s life before, they did now. They must have realized that the fury of The Lion would befall them all should they fail to save her.
Failure…was not an option.
For more reasons than one.
He raised his hand, two fingers in the air. His signal for an archer. If the demon could be disabled in any way, that would give them an opening to charge.
His archer crept slowly behind his back. Silently, Alec watched the demon’s lips move against her ear. Watched her eyes widen. Watched fear cloud their depths.
Wrath overcame him, making him see red. Blay was too strong of a woman to feel fear, to know it. Words of comfort were on the tip of his tongue, but he knew better. Saying anything could tip the scales. Right now, he was talking to her. Most likely telling her stories of the way he wanted to kill her, of the way he would make her feel pain. While Alec wanted to say something to distract her, he knew a single word could mean life or death.
He resolved himself to silence, even though the words burned his throat.
In the shadows, the demons hand twisted, his grip on the hilt adjusting to create a fist facing Alec. His fingers moved with jerky movements as he tightened his hand, pulling it back. The knife pointed at her chest.
Time slowed. Helplessness. Fear. Pain. It all circled around him like a ghost, meant to steal his sanity and reasoning.
Before he could act on those emotions, though, the arrow whispered past his ear.
It struck true.
The demon’s hand flew back enough to knock not only the knife out of his hand, but his body backward. He stumbled, a scream ripping from his throat as he clutched his wrist with his other hand.
“Curse you!” the monster screeched, trying to take the arrow out of his palm.
There were no time for words. Alec lunged forward to take Blay out of the bastards vicinity, but as he ran to her, he watched her body drop.
“Blayne, no.” The choked words came too late. Crouched as she was, she spun on her heels. The mixture of pride and frustrated dread swelled inside of him like a fire that couldn’t be put out. She shot forward, latched onto the knife, and then struck for the demon’s heart.
He didn’t expect it—and neither did the black, charred creature who had nearly killed her.
The dagger arched, candle light glinting off the blade right before it was plunged into the chest cavity of the monster.
“This is for hurting my horse,” he heard her hiss, right before she kicked him back with a foot to the hilt of the dagger that was still buried in his chest.
No one moved. Not her, not him. None of the men. Everyone stood there, feet stuck to the ground as if they had taken root.
She turned to look at him. Unlike other women, she didn’t stand there and wallow over the life she had taken. She didn’t have tears in her eyes when they met his.
No, she had the eyes of a woman who was proud and—
Horrified?
“Alec, move—“
She was too late. How did he know that?
Oh, by the dagger that pierced his side, of course.
He roared, turning around—right into a fist that knocked him out cold. The last thing he heard was Blayne’s furious, terrified scream and the ring of the blade slicing through the air. The last thing he saw?
Callahan’s head drop and roll across the floor, the very same floor that Alec himself crumpled to.