Read Online Demon's Curse (Imnada Brotherhood) by Alexa Egan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Alexa Egan
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to know what a pretty bit like you is doing nosing about in a dead man’s house with a fella like this one.”
“Why not let the lady leave and we can settle this between ourselves.” Flannery’s steel gaze flicked between the three, a focused intensity in the coiled way he held himself. Violence rising off him like smoke. Here, then, was the battle-blooded soldier, the ancient warrior come to startling life. Just as breathtaking and twice as terrifying as she’d imagined.
In nervous agitation, the men closed ranks, gazes watchful as they eyed their adversary. Finally the man with the ruined face shoved to the front, brandishing his blade. “Nice try, lover boy, but mebbe we’ll ask you the same thing. What’s yer business here?”
Bianca jumped as Mac’s lips brushed her cheek. “There’s a carriage outside,” he whispered. “When I say go, you run. Don’t look back. Don’t stop.”
“Quit your muttering afore I cut out your tongue,” Hound-Dog barked just before he sprang.
Mac reacted in a blur of movement that ended with Hound-Dog’s knife in Mac’s possession, the villain howling at a bloody slash running down one arm. Another movement too quick to follow, and he dropped like a rag doll beneath a fist to the jaw.
Bludge screamed and lunged, his blade whipping wildly.
Mac jumped aside, shoving Bianca clear before he stepped into the attack, knives meeting in a steely clash.
Now was her chance. Heart slamming into her throat, she inched along the wall toward the doorway leading to the stairs, cringing at each grunting curse, each smashing blow. Focusing on the cool, smooth wood of the chair rail beneath her fingers, she shimmied in tiny, agonizing increments, hoping all eyes were on the fight and off her escape.
The men dodged and struck back and forth across the ruin of Adam’s tiny parlor, Mac always one step faster, his movements fluid as a dancer’s. His face brilliant and stark and frightening in its cruelty. It was only when he avoided the obvious killing stroke for a deft and clever parry that she realized he was toying with them. The fight some sort of deadly game he played.
Another complicated maneuver straight out of Angelo’s Fencing Academy, a sweeping lunge, and Mac’s blade bit deep into the other man’s thigh.
Clutching his leg, Bludge collapsed at Bianca’s feet with a strangled scream, his face a sickly shade of green.
For a split second Mac’s gaze found hers, his eyes ablaze with a lethal ferocity, a brutal smile lighting his dark features. Then a shot roared in the close space. The acrid smell of black powder and blood singed her nostrils and made her eyes water. Her ears rang with the echo of the explosion.
Mac reared back. “Run!” he yelled.
She blundered through the haze toward the door and down the stairs. There were shouts. A man’sshrieking. She thought she heard her name called, and then she was through. Out in the street.
Before she caught her breath, arms wrapped around her midsection. Plucked her from the ground as if she were naught more than air. Tossed her into a carriage, the door slamming behind her.
“Holles Street,” Mac ordered the driver, pressing his hand against a blossoming red stain on his side, bright against the darker crimson of his tunic.
“You’ve been shot.” She gulped for air, praying she didn’t faint. “Captain, you’re hurt.”
Eyes glazed with pain, he gave a slight shake of his head. “Looks worse than it is,” he said, though his jaw remained tight, teeth clamped in a stubborn grimace.
She sat back against the musty seat, hoping the lurch and sway of the hackney would soothe her, but the looming, twisted grimace of Snips remained imprinted upon her mind before merging into another face: narrower, longer, eyes alight with the madness that always came over him with the drink. Slurred accusations of infidelity followed by vicious threats.
“. . . devilish fog this autumn. Heard of a fellow got lost. Walked
“Why not let the lady leave and we can settle this between ourselves.” Flannery’s steel gaze flicked between the three, a focused intensity in the coiled way he held himself. Violence rising off him like smoke. Here, then, was the battle-blooded soldier, the ancient warrior come to startling life. Just as breathtaking and twice as terrifying as she’d imagined.
In nervous agitation, the men closed ranks, gazes watchful as they eyed their adversary. Finally the man with the ruined face shoved to the front, brandishing his blade. “Nice try, lover boy, but mebbe we’ll ask you the same thing. What’s yer business here?”
Bianca jumped as Mac’s lips brushed her cheek. “There’s a carriage outside,” he whispered. “When I say go, you run. Don’t look back. Don’t stop.”
“Quit your muttering afore I cut out your tongue,” Hound-Dog barked just before he sprang.
Mac reacted in a blur of movement that ended with Hound-Dog’s knife in Mac’s possession, the villain howling at a bloody slash running down one arm. Another movement too quick to follow, and he dropped like a rag doll beneath a fist to the jaw.
Bludge screamed and lunged, his blade whipping wildly.
Mac jumped aside, shoving Bianca clear before he stepped into the attack, knives meeting in a steely clash.
Now was her chance. Heart slamming into her throat, she inched along the wall toward the doorway leading to the stairs, cringing at each grunting curse, each smashing blow. Focusing on the cool, smooth wood of the chair rail beneath her fingers, she shimmied in tiny, agonizing increments, hoping all eyes were on the fight and off her escape.
The men dodged and struck back and forth across the ruin of Adam’s tiny parlor, Mac always one step faster, his movements fluid as a dancer’s. His face brilliant and stark and frightening in its cruelty. It was only when he avoided the obvious killing stroke for a deft and clever parry that she realized he was toying with them. The fight some sort of deadly game he played.
Another complicated maneuver straight out of Angelo’s Fencing Academy, a sweeping lunge, and Mac’s blade bit deep into the other man’s thigh.
Clutching his leg, Bludge collapsed at Bianca’s feet with a strangled scream, his face a sickly shade of green.
For a split second Mac’s gaze found hers, his eyes ablaze with a lethal ferocity, a brutal smile lighting his dark features. Then a shot roared in the close space. The acrid smell of black powder and blood singed her nostrils and made her eyes water. Her ears rang with the echo of the explosion.
Mac reared back. “Run!” he yelled.
She blundered through the haze toward the door and down the stairs. There were shouts. A man’sshrieking. She thought she heard her name called, and then she was through. Out in the street.
Before she caught her breath, arms wrapped around her midsection. Plucked her from the ground as if she were naught more than air. Tossed her into a carriage, the door slamming behind her.
“Holles Street,” Mac ordered the driver, pressing his hand against a blossoming red stain on his side, bright against the darker crimson of his tunic.
“You’ve been shot.” She gulped for air, praying she didn’t faint. “Captain, you’re hurt.”
Eyes glazed with pain, he gave a slight shake of his head. “Looks worse than it is,” he said, though his jaw remained tight, teeth clamped in a stubborn grimace.
She sat back against the musty seat, hoping the lurch and sway of the hackney would soothe her, but the looming, twisted grimace of Snips remained imprinted upon her mind before merging into another face: narrower, longer, eyes alight with the madness that always came over him with the drink. Slurred accusations of infidelity followed by vicious threats.
“. . . devilish fog this autumn. Heard of a fellow got lost. Walked
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