Page 45 of Blood & Claw

“Run, Ailsa,” Dale grunted, not looking her way.

She backed up a few more spaces but then halted.

Common sense told her to turn and flee. She couldn’t out-fight such an individual. However, her feet had suddenly grown roots. Instinct told her to stay where she was.

She wouldn’t abandon the man she’d hired.

And as she watched the fight unfold, something shifted inside her.

The crackle of the fire faded, and all that remained was the two men slashing at each other.

Her pulse slowed then, her gaze narrowing as she studied them.

Each movement suddenly seemed clearer. Sharper.

The attacker favored his left leg slightly. Sweat gleamed on his brow.

A pulse beat in his throat.

Her fingers tightened around her knife.

Just one slash across the neck and it would be done.

Ailsa’s breath hitched. She wasn’t thinking about helping Dale. Instead, she was fantasizing about making his attacker bleed.

The man came to kill them. She should have been terrified; yet, she was waiting for him to make a mistake.

Meanwhile, Dale was holding his own. More than holding his own. He fought with brutal skill that was breathtaking to watch.

The leather-clad man slashed at him with a long-bladed dagger. Blades clashed, ringing through the night. The grunts of their fighting followed, as did the scuff of booted feet on grass.

Ailsa didn’t blink.

The assassin stumbled, and a thrill shot through her.

Anticipation. Her mouth flooded with saliva.

She knew who was going to win.

Dale got the advantage. He ducked under his attacker’s guard and drove his dagger under the man’s ribs, thrusting upward viciously. And with his other blade, he slashed the man across the throat. The assassin’s knees buckled.

Blood spilled across the grass.

Ailsa stared at the dark liquid gleaming in the firelight.

Warm and fresh.

Her stomach tightened. For one terrible instant, she wanted to kneel down and touch it, to know if it felt as hot as it looked.

A shudder tore through her then, and she cut her gaze away.

The man lay twitching on the ground. Blood frothed at his lips as he stared up at his adversary.

Dale hunkered down, and in the firelight, his golden-hued eyes held a savage light.

Ailsa stilled at the sight.

The warrior he’d brought down went rigid, his eyes rolling back as he died.