Page 3 of Hexbound

Both of them were breathing hard.

Bishop held his fists up in a pugilist's stance, but a wash of green light ran over the back of his knuckles and down his arms. One punch would be backed by pure force.

And then he paused, because that was how he would treat a dangerous adversary, and the thief was a woman. He wasn't quite certain how to deal with her. Nonlethally, if he had a preference.

"You're fast," she breathed.

"You're faster. How did you learn to do that?"

"Do what?" She teleported to his left and smashed her fist into his ribs. Then she was gone again, coming up in front of him as he tried to get his bearings.

A hard jab to the solar plexus. Then a right hook that almost slammed his chin up through his skull. He blocked the next one. And the next. His hands moved like a blur, but so did hers, and he was reluctant to unleash his deadlier talents, at least until he knew who she worked for.

Slamming a flat hand into her chest, he sent her staggering into the door to his parlor. Her weight flung it open, smashing it into the wall, and his thief tumbled to the floor, rolling back over her shoulder onto her hands and feet.

The light caught her eyes as he strode forward, and he realized that they were green. Green and utterly devilish. Much like her. Her pretty mouth curled up in a smile.

"You can only teleport short range," he told her, fists curled up in front of him defensively. "Five feet or so, at the maximum."

His thief tipped her chin up. "Is that so, Lord Death?"

Lord Death. His nostrils flared, but the only other sign of discomfort he showed was a faint narrowing of the eyes. "It seems a night for hidden talents," he remarked. "Want me to show you some of mine?"

"I bet you say that to all the girls."

Bishop smiled a not-nice smile and triggered one of the spells built into his rings. The room vanished, plunged into an inky black. There was a faint detonatingboomto his right and another sound, almost a silent crackle to his left an instant after it, as she teleported.

There.

He could feel the tingle of his spiderweb ward, still clinging to her. The same place as that faint, crackling sound had come from.

"It seems to me, Lord Death, that this spell inconveniences you just as much as it does me." He was correct. She was standing exactly where he'd predicted her.

"Does it?" he murmured.

Boom. Crack.A whisper of noise close to the armchair he sometimes sat in. Bishop moved silently, feinting to the right as if drawn in. "I suppose we shall see."

He leapt back the other way, just as she teleported again... straight into his arms.

A gasp.

Bishop caught her wrists and slammed her back against the nearest wall. Every inch of her struggled, but he was far larger than she, and stronger. The sharp edge of the Chalice ground into his hip as he used his body to press her against the wall. Leaning closer, he whispered in her ear, "The interesting thing is... you thought the darkness was my talent."

"My first mistake." She didn't sound remotely cowed.

"Darkness is but a home to me."

"Home to thieves, assassins, and whores." She turned her face, her breath warm against his cheek. Bishop tensed, but she merely laughed, a husky sound that vibrated through his chest. "Now the interesting question remains: what are you going to do with me?"

And he hesitated.

She felt it. The tension in the room ratcheted higher, both of their bodies steel. "Well, now," she almost purred. "Thatisinteresting. You don't know. I didn't think you'd hesitate to take a life."

I don't kill women or children. Not after that one time, that one mistake. His heart wrenched in his chest, but he forced the thought aside. Not now. Not when one sign of weakness could cost him everything. "I want answers first."

"Perhaps I can be accommodating."

Testing the grip he had on her wrists, she let all her weight hang there and lifted those legs, wrapping them around his hips.