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“Is the plan to beat and imprison me?” Fox asked, keeping her tone conversational. “Or to straight-up kill me?”
A muscle jumped beneath his eye. The fact that he continued to hold her stare, despite her nakedness and his erection, proved the strength of his willpower. “What you did to my brethren, I will do to you. This day, you will die by my hand.”
Exactly as she’d suspected. “Did you hurt anyone on the way in?” If so, she would kill him this day.
“I did not. Unlike you, I do not slaughter innocents.”
Ouch. Such a low blow. Accurate, but low. At least she didn’t have to worry he’d lied. Sent Ones were only able to speak truths. “Would it help my cause if you knew I was under the influence of a demon I despise with every fiber of my being?”
His eyes narrowed to tiny slits. With zero hesitation, he told her, “You welcomed the demon and now complain about its influence? No. Nothing will help. The men you killed were beloved. They had families and friends eager for their return.”
She flinched, a heavy weight settling on her shoulders. “You know I’ll defend myself?”
“I do,” he said with a slight incline of his chin.
For whatever reason, the action spurred him into dropping his gaze to her small but pert breasts…where it remained.
She arched a brow at him, not that he noticed, and fought a new wave of shivers, his stare more potent than a caress. “Let me know when you’re done staring. Okay, sport?”
“I will.” He shocked her. He didn’t offer any more, and he didn’t look away.
Was this a battle tactic meant to disarm her mentally and emotionally? Like she really cared about her nudity. She wasn’t shy, or modest, and she maybe kinda sorta…liked the way he studied her, almost as if he’d never beheld anyone so fine. A trick, no doubt. Fox wasn’t classically beautiful. Her features were too angular for such a claim. But she liked to think she had presence.
“Is this your first time seeing a girl?” Two could play this game. Anytime he stared, she would issue taunts.
Finally, Bjorn returned his attention to her face. For the second time, a blush pinkened his cheeks. “My apologies. You are lovely, and it has caught me off guard.”
A compliment, from a Sent One? Fox reeled. She cleared her throat. “Shall we try to kill each other, then?”
Nod. “You may try. I will succeed.”
Chapter Three
“Ohhhhh. I guess we’ve reached the trash talk portion of our evening,” Fox the Executioner said.
Bjorn the One True Dread watched as she assumed a battle stance. Shoulders back, spine straight, one leg positioned in front of the other.
The woman had certainly earned her moniker. Where she went, people died.
He studied her more intently. Face it, the woman was emotionally cold but physically hot, and the juxtaposition intrigued him greatly. A phase, only a phase, and only because he’d gone a year without sex. Or maybe because she was so different from the females he’d once chosen, before his captivity. So hard and rough. Whatever the reason, it had nothing to do with her lithe yet strong body, with its perky breasts and small, pink nipples…flat stomach…tiny tuft of dark curls at the apex of her thighs…long legs made for wrapping around a man’s waist.
As he imagined Fox’s legs wrapped around his waist, every muscle in his body knotted with tension.
Enough! He’d meant what he’d said. Her loveliness had caught him off guard. There was no more to his attraction than that.
Immediately after receiving this assignment, Bjorn had visited the Hall of Records, where scribes tracked every human and immortal alive. Each scribe reviewed the thoughts, words and actions of a single being, and wrote them in a book. Only a select few received permission to read those books, and Bjorn wasn’t one of them.
However, he was allowed to read what other Sent Ones wrote about her, and any interactions they’d had with her. Every detail confirmed a killer without a conscience. A true monster.
“This is getting embarrassing—for you,” Fox said, exasperated. “Do you realize you’re stroking yourself off?”
Damn it, he was stroking himself off. He’d done it without thought. Now, he froze.
Chagrinned, he dropped his arms to his sides and forced his attention elsewhere. The bathroom decor provided the perfect background for the woman, sleek and modern with gold facets, white tiles, and breasts.
Breasts? He cursed inside his head. He was staring again. Not my fault. She is…unexpected. Never had he seen such striking, arresting features. She possessed the kind of face that somehow suggested both incredible strength and staggering vulnerability. A face you never, ever forgot, with heavy-lidded bedroom eyes, spiky lashes, and red, pouty lips. A hint of rose complemented her pale, flawless skin.
She was so different from Alana. So—enough! Do not think about her. One Alana-centric thought would lead to another and another until he spiraled into a rabbit hole of shame and fury.
“If you’d prefer to battle me in a better location,” he said, unsure why he continued to stall, “I will allow you to portal us—”
“You’ll allow me?” she interjected. “How wonderful of you. But, no thanks. I can kill you here just as easily as elsewhere.”
So confident. So foolish. The same can be said of you. Why else would he offer to let his target decide the location of their showdown? “Very well. We fight here.” Close-quarter combat required a particular skill set. The bigger the combatant, the bigger the disadvantage. With two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle and a six-foot-five-inch frame, Bjorn fell into the major disadvantage category. Fox probably weighed a hundred and twenty-five pounds max, and topped out at five-nine.
So, she held an advantage at the moment? So what? He endured a lifetime of training, the best tool in any arsenal.
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” she said, “but are you sure you know how to fight? Hint. There are myriad ways, but standing there, doing nothing isn’t one of them.”
Ignore your fascination with her body. He had a job to do, so, he would do it. He would rather live with the memory of her death than his failure. “Goodbye, Fox. May you find peace in the hereafter.” With a war cry, Bjorn tucked his wings into his sides and pushed off the balls of his feet.
Anticipating a strike, Fox raised her sword. Smart. He swung his. Metal met metal, their blades clanging together. As intense vibrations rushed up his arms, Fox attempted to stab him in the gut, using a dagger she’d hidden in her other hand.
He blocked at the last second, spun, and swung at her. Again, their blades clanged together, her reflexes faster than expected. A louder clink sounded, acting as a starting bell for round two.
Tension thickened the air as they danced around the bathroom, slamming into the trash can…the sink…the toilet. Toiletries dropped, the toothbrush holder shattering. On the walls, tiles cracked.
Throughout the eons of his life, he’d participated in countless battles. Some willingly, some unwillingly. This was the first time he’d challenged a naked female, but (hopefully) wouldn’t be his last. The view could not be beat. Any move she made caused her breasts to bounce, and when she kicked up a leg, he received a straight-up money shot.
A strategy, perhaps. The sight always distracted him, blanking his mind and stopping him in his tracks, allowing her to land another blow—a heel to the kneecap. Pain shot through his entire leg and sickness churned in his stomach. Did he slow? Not even a little.
She fought well, her lithe body quick and flexible. She didn’t hesitate to deliver harm. Didn’t flinch when she failed to block an opponent’s strike. Her true talent, however? Predicting his moves and reacting accordingly, never receiving more than a bruise or a surface cut.
But, her ability to predict his actions also proved to be her greatest weakness. As light as she was, she had to exert tremendous amounts of energy to remain upright each and every time she blocked his sword. Soon, she would tire out…
He swung once…
twice…again and again, driving her backward. When the wall stopped her, he prepared to deliver the final blow. A water droplet dripped from her hair, landed on her collarbone, and sluiced to her nipple, where it hovered.
Beautiful nipple. The perfect bull’s eye.
The next thing he knew, a sharp pain exploded through his abdomen. He blinked back into focus just in time to watch Fox twist the blade she’d sunk into his gut. Searing agony consumed every inch of him, stars winking through his vision. Eyes off the nipples! Right.
He slammed a fist into her forearm with all his might. The bone broke, maybe even shattered. A hiss parted her lips, but she refused to release the sword hilt. Impressive. Had any other opponent ever proven so stubborn?
Knowing she would use this newest distraction against him and go for a vital organ, Bjorn wrenched backward, sliding free of the blade. Blood and something as thick and black as motor oil gushed from the wound, pooling on the floor. Wonderful! She’d clipped his stomach.
