“Show us yer tits!” the man with no eyebrows howled.
The man in the center swung a fist at the one with no eyebrows, landing a blow to his jaw and breaking free of their entrapment. He raced to her and seized her wrist. “Get out of here, Willow.”
She recognized his square jaw and deep voice instantly. Christian. Good heavens, it was Christian! His eyes burned into her, his stare harsh and protective. She couldn’t abandon him. She shoved him aside and drew her sword as the man with the scar arced his weapon toward him. She deflected the swipe easily enough. “Christian,” she called. “You made your new friends angry.”
“They are no friends of mine,” Christian said, taking up a stance at her side.
“You could never play nice.” She focused on the four men judging each of them. The male with no eyebrows rubbed his jaw.
“I’ll give you one last chance to lay down your weapons and leave,” she warned.
“Otherwise, what?” a man with a round belly asked. “You’ll poke me with yer little stick?” He grabbed his crotch. “I’ll poke you with mine first!”
Before he finished the sentence, Willow moved in, slashed his cheek, and moved out with such speed the man had no time to react. “That could have easily been that large stomach of yours.”
“Get them!” he shouted angrily.
Willow engaged the one with the scar, knocking aside his strike, as the male with no eyebrows thrust. She parried and swung, kicking him back. Beside her, grunts and clangs of swords sounded as Christian fought. She knew he was hurt and didn’t know how long he could keep fighting.
Willow took a step to meet the man with the scar’s swing, knocking it aside. He came at her again.
Suddenly, Sage smashed the strike away with her sword.
Willow whirled and blocked another swing from the male with no eyebrows. She tried not to be angry or distracted, but in the back of her mind, she couldn’t believe it was Christian! Inattentive, she shifted to fend off a strike to Christian, and the man abruptly switched directions. Startled, she had enough time to turn her body. She mentally cursed and focused. She let the man swipe his sword and knocked it aside before attacking, moving with speed, left, then right, with her weapon.
Sage ran the man through.
Willow didn’t watch him fall; she turned to help Christian. Christian was pulling his sword from one of the men, just as the man with no eyebrows lurched. Willow whacked the blow away, spinning her wrist around and sending his sword spinning across the ground. She placed the tip of her weapon to the man’s throat.
He froze, staring in disbelief.
“Finish him, Willow,” Christian gasped, clutching his side.
Willow hated killing. She didn’t like to take life. She would just as soon wound them and let them run. Sage, Raven, and her father had told her it was foolish. If the men were stupid enough to want to kill her, she had no choice but to end their lives. As she stood with the tip to the man’s neck, she knew they were right, but she could never do it. Not when he was weaponless. She lowered her weapon.
“Go,” she whispered to him. “Run.”
He took a step back.
“No, Willow,” Christian ordered. But before Christian had a chance to kill him, the man turned and fled into the night. Christian cursed. He dropped to one knee beside the scarred man’s body and ran his hands along the torso.
Sage joined Willow, sheathing her weapon. She stared at Christian. “Do you know him?” she asked.
Willow couldn’t stop gaping at him. In the moonlight, his dark hair reflected blue highlights. She didn’t know whether it was anger boiling her blood or excitement. She nodded as he wiped his blade on the fallen man’s tunic and shoved it in its sheath. “It’s Christian.”
Sage’s brows rose in surprise and then slowly lowered as an amused grin inched over her lips. “Now I see why you wanted to help him.”
“Sage,” Willow chastised, embarrassed she might say more.
He paused to look up at her. Those incredibly blue eyes caught her off guard. He was utterly disarming.
“That was a foolish thing you did, Willow,” he said in a biting tone.
Hurt washed through her at his annoyance and disappointment. She had wanted him to be as happy to see her as she was to see him.
“You shouldn’t have let him go.” He stood. “You don’t know the type of man he is.”
“You mean defenseless?” she quipped.
