Page 160 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

Glowing red, locked on me.

THIRTY-TWO

UNPLEASANT COMPANY

FREYA

“Come, little Wraith. We just wanna talk.”

Two of them stepped forward like they meant to seize me—and I reacted on instinct. Grabbing one, I yanked him through his own momentum and slammed the two together with a sharp crack. One collapsed. The other clutched his face, swearing violently, blood blooming between his fingers.

“I wouldn’t do that,” I warned sweetly, every word steeped in saccharine venom.

The closest one’s eyes flared with anger—then stuttered. Mismatched eyes. Blue and amber. My focus nearly slipped as memories pulled taut.

A third man stepped forward.

I struck before he reached me—two fast slices across his torso dropped him to his knees. I lunged behind him, twisted his arm, and jerked him upright. My blade pressed to his throat, his back arching painfully against my grip.

“Give me Blaz Gwyne.”

The one with heterochromia lunged. I shifted the blade higher, angling it over my captive’s carotid.

Everything stopped.

Perfect. He was valuable. Or sentimental. Family, maybe. I didn’t give a shit which.

I shot a roguish grin at the mismatched man and leaned close to my hostage’s ear. “Something tells me I chose my prize well.”

“Fuck off,” the man in my arms growled—but wisely, didn’t move.

“Easy, easy,” a resonant baritone drawled.

It came from the man holding a bloodied, unconscious Blaz.

“And you are?” I batted my lashes, keeping the knife pressed to skin, my gaze flicking to the leader prowling forward. The others were shifting around me, closing in. I felt their movements like changes in air pressure. But I didn’t flinch. Didn’t breathe wrong. Didn’t let my attention drift.

“None of your concern.”

“You’re here. Holding him. That makes it my concern.”

As my eyes swept over his lanky frame—Wing-less, tattooed arms, fabric hood, and brooding posture—I knew exactly who I was looking at. Cyrus Stuart.

“That’s one of my best,” he said, nodding to the man at my mercy.

I snorted. “Sure you want to admit that? Doesn’t say much for your standards.” A cracked laugh slipped free. “Not exactly intimidation material.”

“I’d like it very much if you released him.”

“I’m listening.”

“We give you Blaz. You stay for a chat.”

“Mmm, afraid I’m booked.”

“Simple inter-hierarchy negotiations,” the prince insisted. “I just wanna talk.”

“Then you should’ve sent an invitation.”