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He spun around, scanning the corridor. Beneath his long silver beard, his lips curled. The guard sniffed the damn air.

Dammit. Fragrant soaps breathed from Mira’s hair, from my skin. The bastard could bleeding smell us.

His companion hissed a command but went silent when the first guard held up his hand again. The man tilted his head, inhaling deeper. He looked nowhere but at the mottled cloud of thick shadows surrounding our bodies.

A soft, breathy whimper slipped from Mira’s lips.

She knew. I knew. The mortals had found us.

They wouldn’t touch her.

I did not stand by waiting for the guard to strike. Knife in hand, I aimed the point down and lunged from the shadows. A shout of stun echoed in the hallway. Soon enough, the guard’s cry choked off, transforming into a gurgled, liquid cough.

Rammed through the center of his throat, my knife twisted deeper to the back side of his neck. Blood fountained and splattered across the stones.

The second guard roared, blade raised, and raced to aid his fallen companion.

With a hard tug, I ripped the knife free of the first man’s neck and slashed at the second. The mortal dodged, spinning away. He brought down his sword in a wild strike, missing my body by an arm’s length. One of his boots skidded over the blood pooling beneath the dead guard.

I took the opportunity to shove his body against the wall. His skull smacked on the stone. The man groaned. I did not let up.

Fingers curled around the ridge of hair down the center of the guard’s skull, I gripped his head and smashed it against the stone wall. Again. Again.

Bones cracked. Blood coated my fingertips, my lips.

Again, his head met the wall. The bridge of his brow sunk in. His body slumped. Again. Again.

Teeth bared, I wanted to crush his skull until nothing but the fine dust of his bones filled his flesh.

Heated delight roared in my blood. Three hells, from the first notion of danger, I needed this, craved it. The sense of slaughtering anyone who dared harm Mira, even in thought alone. These mortals wanted to keep her here against her will, and the thought unlocked a maddening rage I did not even try to tame.

Although he was long dead, I did not stop my attack on the guard.

Somewhere through the slap of broken flesh and bone on the stone wall, I let out a grunt of frustration, of hatred.

Gentle hands curled over my forearm. Soft. Warm. Safe.

“Tait.” A small tug on my arm pulled me from the haze of violence.

I blinked. Blood dripped off my lashes. Through the gore, Mira peered up at me. A few red drops fell to her cheeks from the edge of my jaw.

She smiled. Bleeding smiled. “He’s gone, Hearttalker. That’s enough.”

A rough breath escaped my lungs. I took in the damage. The mortal was a scramble of flesh and tissues and bits of bone. The first man, lifeless in a crimson pool.

Jaw tight, I gripped the guard’s shattered head with both palms and twisted. The corridor echoed in a sick crack as the dead man’s neck snapped. I let his body fall to my boots. One palm pressed against the slick stones.

My chin dropped. “Vicious, I…Do you see what I am?”

Mira ought to flee from a man like me. So lost in violence I could not stop.

“I see, Tait.” Her hand cupped my cheek and guided my gaze to meet hers. “And I will never look away. I am too captivated.”

I turned and kissed her palm. “Or twisted.”

Mira grinned. “Maybe a little. Now that you’ve magnificently cleared our path, we need to go before more come.”

“We’re close.” I rubbed a palm over my burning heart.