Chapter Twenty-One
Christian clutched his weapon, more furious than he had ever been in his life. Willow was bound and hurt. “I won’t ask again,” he snarled.
“Dalcop!” Simon called. “I’m surprised to see you.”
Christian didn’t bother looking at his brother. His gaze seared into the soldier holding Willow as he continued to approach. His jaw clenched.
The soldier glanced at Simon unsurely.
Christian wasn’t waiting for his brother’s order. He swung his sword around in a menacing circle.
Simon turned his stare to Verm. “She is yours, not ours.” He signaled his man with a flick of his hand.
The soldier released Willow and stepped away.
Willow swayed.
“She is mine,” Christian growled and caught her in his arms. His gaze swept her face, caressing every curve with concern. “She has always been mine.”
“I’m sorry,” Willow whispered.
He felt anguished and relieved and furious all at the same time. “Did they touch you?”
She shook her head, her beautiful golden locks swaying about her shoulders. “I had to jump out of the window, but I’ll be well.”
“We had a deal!” Verm protested. “You were to give her to me!”
Christian’s jaw tightened, but he took a moment to press a relieved kiss against her forehead. He set her on her feet and whirled, pinning Verm with a deadly glare.
Verm backed.
Simon grinned. “This is your problem. If you want her, go get her.”
Christian’s angry gaze swiveled to Simon, daring him to intercede. The muscles on Christian’s jaw bunched and released, bunched and released.
Simon’s grin slowly faded.
Christian stalked toward Verm.
Simon and his man returned to the inn.
Verm ducked behind his two thugs for protection.
As Christian approached, the two men retreated. The one with the double chin shook his head and said, “This is not my fight.” He turned to the inn.
Christian’s eyes narrowed. He only cared about that rat-faced rodent.
Verm positioned the beefy-armed man before him. “Get him. We can take him together.”
The man hesitated for a moment before tentatively removing his weapon from its sheath. Verm drew his sword, his arm trembling.
Christian arced his blade, locking blades with Verm’s thug. He twisted his wrist, sending the beefy-armed man’s blade upward, and he lunged in, impaling the man through the stomach. Christian yanked his weapon free, and the man toppled forward. As he hit the ground, Christian spun and faced Verm, who moved away. “I warned you,” Christian snarled.
“I misunderstood. A simple mistake,” Verm insisted, holding his blade before him like a shield.
“A mistake that will not happen again.” Christian approached slowly. He enjoyed seeing the fear in Verm’s small eyes as they shifted from left to right.
Verm held his weapon in two quivering hands before him. “I didn’t mean…” His nose twitched. “This is a mistake.”
