Page 33 of Blood Oath Christmas
She’ll be safe with us, and that’s all that matters for now.
A van drives by me. Slowly. It drifts into the lane beside Ivy and slows until it’s right next to her. The side windows are dark, the front plate is missing, and the sliding-door seam is clear as it rolls to a stop right next to her.
“Oh, fuck no!” I say between gritted teeth.
17
IVY
The van drifts in beside me and slows until it matches my steps. I don’t need a class in “what not to do at midnight” to know this is bad.
Real bad.
The side window is dark. The front plate is missing. And then, the side door slides open, the sound loud and eerie in the silence of the night.
A gloved hand shoots out and catches my coat at the collar before I have a chance to move. A scream tears from my throat. I jerk back on instinct, and the fingers miss my throat and snag my scarf instead. The fabric bites into my neck, reminding me of a noose. A noose I so foolishly led myself right to. I claw at it and slam my elbow backward. It connects with something solid and a man grunts.
The gratification I feel is instantly squashed when a body slams into me from the side, nearly knocking me over. I would have fallen if not for the arms that wrap around my waist and haul me to my tip toes.
The ground shifts under me. My boots skid on packed snow as I scramble to try and find some kind of purchase. But Ican’t and my breath saws in and out of my mouth, the cold air threatening to freeze my lungs. The cloth swings toward my mouth again, close enough to smell something sweet and chemical.
Oh, hell no! Panic spikes white-hot. I clamp my lips shut and twist my head away, then stomp down with my heel as hard as I can. It lands on a foot. My attacker swears, tight and ugly, but doesn’t let go.
“Let—go!” The word tears out of me, thin in the cold.
I throw my head back. The back of my skull cracks against a nose. Another curse. Warmth splashes my ear and I know, with a sickness that coils in my stomach, that it’s blood. Not mine, but it still gets to me.
The arms around me loosen suddenly, and I stagger backward, lose my balance, and fall to my hands and knees. Snow stings my hands, even through my gloves, but I don’t really notice it. My mouth drops open when I see him.
Konstantin.
He comes out of the darkness like some avenging… devil. He moves so quickly, I can barely keep track of him. One of his strong hands snaps to the wrist of the guy holding the cloth. Konstantin twists hard and fast. The rag drops. He drives his elbow into the man’s throat and the guy drops, gagging, into the snow.
Before I’ve absorbed that, Konstantin is already on the second attacker—the one who had me around the waist. He steps in tight, shoulder to sternum, sweeps a boot, and sends the man to the ground in the blink of an eye. The impact knocks a wheeze out of him and he doesn’t get back up.
The driver throws the van into gear with the side door still open. Konstantin pivots and slams it with his palm. The van swerves, fishtails once as tires try to find purchase in the snow, then the driver corrects it and races away.
Silence rushes in, eerie and uncomfortable after what just happened. Except for my pulse. My heart beats loudly in my ears and pounds against my chest.
I stare at Konstantin in open-mouthed shock. Snow clings to his hair and the ink at his throat. He looks steady. Dangerous. Alive. I can’t look anywhere else. Fear and relief tangle in my mouth, and under them, something hotter opens and won’t close.
He checks the street with one quick sweep, then he’s in front of me. His hands clamp my upper arms and haul me upright. Heat burns through my coat where he touches. He smells like cold air and gun oil. His eyes rake over me, counting damage. My knees tremble and threaten to give out beneath me.
“Are you hurt?” The control in his voice steadies me more than it should.
I shake my head. “No.”
And just like that, the worry in his eyes fades and anger, and something else I can’t name, darkens them into a deep green. His jaw clenches, highlighting the dimples in his cheeks even as his lips press into a thin, grim line.
His grip on my arms tightens almost painfully. The little shake he gives me snaps my teeth together. But I’m not scared. Not of Konstantin. Not after what he just did to protect me. Somehow, I know his action is born out of fear more than anger. Until he opens his mouth.
“What the hell was that?” he demands through gritted teeth. “Youtryingto get yourself killed?”
He doesn’t give me a chance to answer. He huffs a breath of irritation then releases his hold on me. I start to respond, but he jerks his phone out of his pocket and types something. The screen highlights his face for a brief second, then disappears when he tucks it back into his pocket.
“Why the fuck would you risk your life like that?”
I open my mouth to argue and nothing reasonable comes out. “I thought?—”
