Page 187

“None of us speak about it. He and Garrik?—”

The smell hit her before he did.

One clammy, solid elbow jammed into Alora’s ribs before she was knocked from the barstool. It toppled over with a loud thump, and a few tables shot their gaze to the crash.

Correcting her footing and clenching her ribs, Alora whipped her dagger from its sheath, which was dripping with spilled ale down her armor.

“What’s two beautiful females such as yourselves not fucking me in a place like this tonight?” Along with a hiccup, large sweaty arms pushed a tankard toward Jade, spilling half the contents on the counter.

A death glare Alora had seen many times covered Jade’s usually cold face. Her tone could eat his soul alive. “It would be wise for you to recognize that some things are better left the fuck alone. For example.” Jade twirled a throwing dagger around her pointer finger with perfect balance. “Us.”

In one easy swing, the tip of the dagger embedded between the male’s greasy fingers.

The putrid smell of his intoxicated breath hovered as he opened his mouth, exposing rotting teeth through a drunken smile. “Feisty. I like it.” His head pivoted to Alora, and his pinned eyes grew larger than the moon himself. “My. You are the most beautiful female I have ever seen in here.”

Alora finished wiping a cloth from the bartender on her leathers. “Well, I guess that means I better go find the best looking male then.” Instead of indulging the stranger any longer, she roamed her eyes around the tavern, expecting to see Garrik walking through the doors.

She found herself frowning when the door didn’t open but twisted back into a smile when a swift thump of Jade’s palm knocked into the drunks’ chest. He fell back from the bar on stumbling feet.

“Piss off,” Jade hissed, narrowing her eyes.

“No, I don’t think I will.”

Alora pulled the dagger from the bar. “You really should.” Her nervous eyes shifted to Jade, who turned away and preceded to toss her tankard to her lips.

He smiled and looked back at Jade. “Come on, princess?—”

“Oh no,” Alora murmured, cringed, and on instinct, stepped back.

Jade’s eyes went delightfully hungry. Tapping her fingers on the counter with a ravenous smile and a hum, her tankard connected with the male’s jaw, producing a satisfying cracking noise.

He reeled back, landed, spine against a table, and fell to the floor. Unmoving, under the dirty boots of three males who took one look at him and stood.

Chairs in the center of the room scraped against the floorboards, toppling over as the card table fell to its side, spilling gambling chips and cards. The three males, twice their size in height and build, stood with fists clenched and vexed eyes.

One in the middle, tan-skinned and golden hair that reminded her of Rowlen, broke a leg from the table and clenched until his knuckles whitened.

Shit.Clasping the hilt of her sword, Alora pivoted on nervous feet.

Jade sat, seemingly unfazed by the situation unfolding, before she wiped her sleeve across her mouth and dug her black boots into the floorboards. Turning, she gave them a taunting wave of her fingers before turning to Alora. “Too easy.” Green eyes glided back to the approaching males and gestured with a nod. “The two on the left are mine.”

Jade took two hard steps forward and balled her fists tight in hungry anticipation. Tapping her fingers against her thigh, inches above her throwing daggers, Jade squared her shoulders to them. Ready. Waiting. Taunting.

One wicked smile and the red-headed killing machine came alive.

Alora found herself painfully aware of every minute sound—the rasp of inhaled breath, the screech of wooden chairs dragged backward. Shadows mounted and swayed as the candle chandeliers guttered low. All around, patrons shifted, hands dipping to hidden pockets or closing around forks. An atmosphere of tension roiled through the room as the occupants—mostly male—arose, postures radiating challenge and competition and a readiness to brawl.

“Alora!” Jade screeched from somewhere in the crowd.

Metal hinges groaned from behind. Corded arms latched around her shoulders.

Jade was fists of fury and daggers, feet in front of her, her boot slammed down into the face of the golden-haired male.

From the corner of Alora’s eye, a fist barreled into her face. The arms around her held strong before another fist pounded into her cheek, this time sending her stumbling down on a bent knee.

“Demon’s whore!”

Alora’s eyes clenched with tears as she clutched her throbbing face, warring off a cruel memory of Kaine’s fists. She refused to let it set in. Refused to allow that haunting voice of pure evil and hatred and lies to invade and render her weak.