blade. The creature went limp and dropped his club, falling to the ground, thick black blood seeping from his twitching body.
One down, four more to go.
By the time Gray had turned around, two other creatures were flying toward him, fury darkening their ugly features. Seconds before they reached him, he ducked low and grabbed both of them by their ankle. They pulled and struggled against his hold, but he pivoted, slashed up with his feet, using the creatures' elevated height to anchor him as he kicked them senseless.
Both dropped to the ground, gasping for breath, and he cut both their necks at the same time. The leader screeched an unholy sound that rocked the walls.
'Come and get me,' he spat.
Club raised, the Formorian stalked toward him. Gray's lips were curling into a slow smile—until he saw Jewel race from behind the screen. His grin died as a sense of rage and helplessness sprouted inside him. She'd haphazardly wrapped her robe around her body and it billowed at her ankles, flapping with her movements. She had her blade raised, ready to battle.
Her name was poised at the edge of his lips, ready to scream it out and command her to hide, to return behind the screen. But he didn't want to draw any attention to her. He didn't mind dying himself, but he'd be damned if he'd let Jewel receive even the smallest scratch.
A Formorian sensed her presence and turned around, club raised. The leader was still flying toward Gray, Jewel was still racing toward the other. Gray started running, too, and when he was almost upon the leader, he jumped up and slammed his feet into the bastard's chest, shooting him backward.
Gray didn't slow, but the world seemed to slow around him. An agonizing slowness with a reality that there was only one thing he could do sinking into him. And if he failed, if he missed... Jewel would be dead. He kept moving, sprinting toward her and the final combatant.
The two were almost upon each other. Jewel's attacker was reaching back with his club just as Gray drew back his arm to throw his knife.
He was suddenly grabbed from behind with a single hand. Sharp nails dug into his shoulder, tugging him backward. Gray's blade flew out of his hand, but missed its intended target completely. As he fell, he watched through horrified eyes as Jewel slammed into the other beast. Her knife was raised, ready to strike, but the bastard beat her to it.
His club pounded into her upper arm.
Gray hit the ground, howling in fury, a red haze of rage beating inside him. The leader jumped on top of him, and he rolled over, not thinking about his next actions. He simply opened his mouth and sank his teeth into the Formorian's neck, thick blood sliding down his throat, burning the pit of his stomach. The creature howled and jerked against him, but Gray kept a steady jaw lock, draining the bastard dry.
When he finished, he tossed the lifeless creature aside and sprang to his feet. Warm drops of blood trickled down his mouth, off his chin. He wiped them away. The remaining Formorian had an
unconscious Jewel by the hair and was dragging her out of the room. Her blood left a crimson trail behind
her. Gray's heart stopped beating and he snarled, the sound raw and animalistic.
He sprinted after them, swooping down and grabbing one of the abandoned clubs as he ran. He hefted its weight in his hand. With a war cry, he raised up his arm and struck, slamming the spiked tip into the back of the creature's head, putting all of his strength behind the blow.
Jewel was released; she thumped to the ground. As the creature spun toward him, Gray hit him again and again, until there was nothing left. He was panting with the force of his rage. Only when his arms shook and his hands throbbed from splinters did he drop the club.
His gaze found Jewel. Her eyes were closed, her face soft, as if she were sleeping. He knelt and gently gathered her in his arms. Her head fell back, her hair streaming down. A few centaurs were scattered throughout the hallway, gasping at the blood. Gasping at the sight of Jewel.
'It's her,' one of them said, his voice reverent. The foolish horse-man took a step toward her, reaching out.
'Touch her and die,' Gray snarled. Without another word, he carried her to their room, kicking bodies and debris out of the way. He laid his woman on the mountain of pillows. His fingers found the hollow of her neck where her pulse should... beat... Thank God! His knees buckled in relief. Her pulse was weak and thready, but it was there.
She was alive.
His satisfaction was a palpable, all-consuming force, and in that moment he recognized Jewel as
He stayed on his knees, ripping off her robe, searching for her wounds. Blood had dripped onto her stomach, and he cleaned it away to ascertain she hadn't been hurt there. That kind of wound was often fatal, but he encountered only smooth, healthy skin.
The only wound he could see was on her left arm. There were dime-sized holes from the club spikes, and the skin was black and blue. As he watched, however, the holes began to close, the bruises began to fade.
His eyes widened. She was healing at a superhuman speed. His unsteady heartbeat slowed and calmed, and the rage in his blood dwindled. The things he'd done only moments before played through his mind. Without any remorse, he'd sucked the blood from someone's neck. And he'd liked it. He'd clubbed someone. And he'd liked it.
Obviously the desire for blood was not because he'd lost some of his own like he'd first supposed. Something was changing inside him, something dark and dangerous. He didn't understand it, was almost afraid to analyze it, but there it was.
Jewel gasped, and her eyelids popped open. 'Gray.'
'King of kings, more Formorians will arrive soon,' one of the centaurs said, stepping into the room. 'They will sense the deaths of their brethren and come. We must prepare.' Hooves pounded in the background.
'How you feeling?' he asked softly, not moving from his place beside Jewel. An army could invade, and he wouldn't have cared. He wasn't leaving this spot until he was one hundred percent positive of her recovery.
'Stiff, but good.' She stretched her arms over her head and arched her back. 'Did I kill him?'
'Yes,' he lied, knowing that was what she wanted to hear. He smoothed his hands over her face, lingering over the seam of her lips. 'How did you heal like that, sweetheart? Do you need extra time to heal internally?'
Her face scrunched adorably in her confusion.
'Heal? I remember that he hit me and that it burned like fire, but I feel fine now. He must not have hit me very hard.'
She didn't know, he realized. She didn't know the club had cut through to the bone. 'Easy, easy,' he said as she jerked to a sitting position.
'Gray, I'm fine—' She glanced down and saw her nakedness. Gasping, she pulled her robe tight against her. 'I thought I covered myself!'
He grinned. His little Prudence would be fine. He didn't understand it. Hell, he didn't understand a lot of the things that had happened lately, but he was okay with that because Jewel would live.
Gray planted a swift kiss on her lips and pushed to his feet. 'We have to get out of here.' He scrambled around the room, grabbing his backpack, weapons, and securing his robe over his shoulders.
Jewel's cheeks glowed bright as she realized her robe simply wouldn't cover her breasts. The edges were ripped to shreds. She grabbed the velvet-soft sheet atop the pillows and wrapped it around herself. When she finished, she gazed at the room, at the carnage littering the floor.
'I should have sensed them,' she said quietly. 'I should have known they were coming.'
'You told me you can't sense danger to yourself, so how could you have known?
'No, I—'
'I'm taking blame for this and that's the end of it Are you strong enough to walk?'
'I am, yes, but are you? You're bleeding.' Concerned, she stared at his face, his hands. A frown tugged at her lips, and she stepped toward him.
