Page 122 of Thirst
We fanned out, trying to box them in. Then the closest vampire shifted—a barely perceptible twitch of his muscles—and lunged at Talon, silver dagger out. Talon jerked his stake up, and the blades clanged off each other.
The second man came for me. I met him with both my blades, and we fought, hot and furious, no time to breathe or even think. All I could do was react, parry, thrust. A few feet away, Brien and Twilight double-teamed the third.
Nyx scurried past, shielding Perla with her body. On the far side of the room, James and Adrian dropped out of the shadows, protecting the pair of women as instructed.
I sped up my blows. The clock was ticking. Nazaire would be here any second.
But our time had run out.
He’d already emerged from the shadows on the other side of the room along with two other men who’d engaged Adrian and James, leaving Nyx and Perla undefended.
Nazaire closed the door behind him, blocking the only other exit. Nyx halted, then slid sideways, putting Perla on a couch without taking her gaze from her sire.
I cursed—and let myself get distracted. My opponent was no longer in front of me.
I went low and whipped around, ducking the dagger that would’ve pierced my chest from behind. As he stumbled past me, carried by his own momentum, I popped up to slam my blade against the back of his skull. It landed with a satisfying crunch.
He faltered and turned toward me. I drove him back with a vicious kick to the chest. He smashed into the wall. Stone cracked, and his blade fell from his hand. I knocked it away with my foot.
He hissed, fangs flashing, and leapt at me, raking his claws across my shoulder. I went at him with both blades. One sliced halfway through his wrist; the second I buried in his heart.
His jaw dropped, like he was surprised I’d gotten past his guard. Gods knew what the QCS had told themselves about Brien and his people, but they clearly hadn’t expected us to outfight them.
I showed him my own fangs. “Surprise, motherfucker.”
He clamped his hands around the dagger’s carved ebony handle, dragging it partway free. Then his strength gave out. His fingers opened, releasing the handle, and he crumpled to the marble tiles.
I swung around to see if my friends needed help. The two vampires they’d been fighting lay bloodied and silent, smoke rising from their bodies, dark fire eating through their flesh.
But Nazaire had gotten to Nyx. He had an arm crooked around her neck, a blade angled against her carotid. Red shadows from the chandelier bled across their faces—Nyx’s tight and controlled, Nazaire’s lit with an unholy glee.
My heart punched against my sternum, a single hard blow. Then it just…stopped.
At Nazaire’s signal, the vampires James and Adrian had been fighting shoved them away and closed ranks around Nyx and her sire.
James and Adrian looked at me. “Sir?” asked Adrian.
“Stand down,” I barked as the rushing in my ears drowned everything, even the ragged breaths of my friends coming to stand beside me. The world narrowed to a single point: Nyx’s life balanced on a sharp silver edge.
My mind spiraled with an impossible decision.
Stay frozen—or strike.
Nearby, Talon said under his breath, “Stay calm, bro. We’ve got this.”
I barely heard him.
Perla came to her feet, pale under her bruises. She limped her way to them, hand outstretched. “Please, my lord. Nyx is your daughter. She’s?—”
Nazaire backhanded her across the face.
My heart slammed into high gear. I don’t even remember crossing the great room. I was just there, in front of them, my remaining dagger in my hand. Someone—me—was growling, low, feral.
Perla stumbled backward and hit the wall. She whimpered, a small, hurt sound.
My friends had moved an instant after me. Talon was in time to catch Perla. He handed her off to James and Adrian, who helped her to a couch out of harm’s way, while Brien and Twilight fended off Nazaire’s two men with raised daggers.
At a word from Nazaire, they backed off, returning to his side.
