Page 183 of Barbi and the Villain

“Cut it out, Nyk. He was merely trying to help,” I murmur.

“I can help you. He does not need to concern himself with us, much less put his finger on you,” he grits out. He’s staring intently at the man, as if waiting for a reason to strike.

“The dogs are here, Nyk. Please, behave.”

He sneers in displeasure. Oh, I can tell he’s itching for a fight, but he chose the wrong moment.

“Fine,” he mumbles. “But you do not touch my female. In fact, I would appreciate it if you took a few steps back. You are far too close as it is,” he instructs the stranger, pushing me farther behind him so I’m completely out of sight.

Alas, this would be cuter if this wasn’t such a precarious situation. He’s been lecturing me up and down about the importance of hiding our identities, but he is ready to risk it all the moment someone looks the wrong way at me.

The stranger does not reply. He’s frozen on the spot, staring at the pile of clothes. He wrinkles his nose.

“I smell blood,” he mentions in a tight voice.

His cheek twitches as he glances up at Nykander and me.

“Demon blood.”

He barely finishes his words as he removes his sword from its sheath and sends a blast of energy toward us.

Nykander’s shield immediately goes up to obstruct the blow, his dark shadows enveloping both of us.

The stranger’s eyes shift color as he regards us with interest.

He smirks as he takes in Nykander’s dark energy.

“So I was right,” he mutters. “And not just any demon. A Son of Tenebreis. Must be my lucky day. You will tell me where Aethon is, demon,” he grits out, wielding his sword with deadly precision.

“What? Who’s Aethon?” I whisper to Nyk.

He grinds his jaw.

“A general in the Aperite army. He is the blue dragon he is looking for.”

“We don’t know any Aethon or blue dragon,” I call out. “We aren’t hurting anyone. Can you just leave us alone?”

“He must know. Aethon was last seen chasing after your brethren,” the man replies.

“I do not know what brethren you are speaking of, nor do I know anything about Aethon.” Nykander squints.

“Nyk, the dogs,” I whisper. “I need to get them to safety.”

He gives me a tight nod.

His tendrils extend to grab the dog house and move it out of danger. But the stranger mistakes his actions for an offensive, and he strikes out.

My eyes widen in fear. We might heal, but my babies cannot. How dare he put them in danger?

“Leave my dogs out of this!” I shout.

The pink shimmery energy materializes around me, my control slipping from me as I think about anything happening to my babies.

My scream turns into a deadly weapon, the energy rolling off me effortlessly. It takes the shape of a scythe, flying at the stranger with one purpose—to draw blood.

His brows go up in surprise, but with one swish of his sword, he parries my blow.

This gives Nykander enough time to move the dogs out of the danger zone.

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