Page 17

CIRCE

“Swords. Cool.” Ero grits out through clenched teeth.

Is that excitement in his voice?

Because it’s getting me all kinds of excited.

Almost like you’ve been dying to see how you two would fight together…

“I managed to get the others to turn on each other, but the Yakuza and the Mocro didn’t take the bait.” I never take my eyes off of the men circling us, fanning out around us.

Losing your edge, CC…

Annoying the fuck out of me, Arty…

Shaking my head, I glance at Ero, assessing just how fucked we are. He’s ragged, beat up. Tired. There’s more there too. He’s fraying at the edges. Looking more insane every time I find him. And as ripped and deadly as ever. How does he make everything he wears look so goddamn good?

Calm settles over him, transforming him from a rugged, worn-out fugitive, into a stone-cold, blood-smeared god. His muscles flex, igniting a fucking furnace in my core.

Sweet goddess, I wanna see him go nuts.

Still, it’s six against two. And they have katanas.

The Yakuza rush in first, snapping off sharp cries of fury. Glimmering steel swishes past me as I spin, thrusting my dagger low, driving him back. The tip catches in his shirt, jerking to the side and scoring a slash across his abdomen. A shoulder to his chest sends him rolling back just in time to drop and swipe my foot, forcing my next opponent to leap.

“Shine, kuzu yaro!”Ponytail in a navy suit barks.

I rise on the offensive, thrusting my forearms inside his reach to block his short tanto blade from skewering me. Of course it snags in my brand-new bloodred leather jacket.

“Kisama!” I snarl, rolling back out of the tangled mess and the jacket in the same move, twirling the leather as I drag my arms out of the sleeves, catching both of his hands and disarming him as I backspin and shoulder check him into the wall.

Neither sword hits the ground.

Releasing the snared attacker, I snatch the katana, hook my foot up to catch the tanto, and immediately kick it toward Ero. Halfway through a flying spin-kick, he snips it out of the air, guiding it right into the head Yakuza’s chest.

A split second later, we’re driven back-to-back as the other three regroup and close in. Worse, the Mocro have vanished. Meaning we can expect a sneak attack any second.

“You know Japanese?”

“A little.”

“Andyou know how to fight with a sword?” Ero gasps over his shoulder.

“Do you have to ask?” I snap, settling the weight of the blade in both hands as I feel him to the same behind me, taking his stance. A brush of his back against mine sends shivers down the backs of my legs. “I know how to fight. Period.”

“I wasn’t being an asshole…” Ero mumbles back. “This time.”

“First time for everything,” I snort. “Follow my lead.”

“Yes, Sensei.”

I don’t have time to analyze the comedic tone in his voice. How out of character it is for him. The first exchange is a test, all three swordsmen surging towards us as one. Sparks flash in the darkness, illuminating the rain-streaked walls of the buildings around us. A rapid song of ringing steel echoes out like one note for several seconds, then they back off, a clink of one broken blade punctuating the maneuver.

“Nice job,” I offer, mostly unsarcastically.

“Well, that answers my next question,” Ero quips, “I apparently know how to fight with a sword too.”

It takes everything in me not to turn my head and glare at him in disbelief. No time to smack him upside the head. Later.