Page 2 of Empire of Dark

By the time I gained my feet, Triaten had knocked two of his attackers out.

Okay. So, no killing tonight. Noted.

Damn. It’d been so long since I was actually in a brawl like this. More than a hundred years.

Training could never truly simulate a real battle.

And that was all I’d been doing for the last hundred years. Training. Not living.

I swept a glance about the fracas around me, my blood pumping fast in my veins, adrenaline surging.

Barely able to hold a giggle in, I reinserted myself into the fray. It’d been so many damn years. I’d missed this.

Actual feeling in my veins. Panic, sure. But also power—this was what my body was always meant to do.

Even the pain still vibrating along my spine felt good in a weird, bruise-you-like-to-poke-at sort of way.

Triaten could have told me this was going to happen. I saw one of his idiot men start the initial argument at the bar on purpose—probably to draw out how many malefics were swarming the area. But an idiot starting something usually meant the idiot had no de-escalation tactics, so here we were. Battling our way out of the pub.

I blew hair out of my face, ignoring my rumbling stomach.

Idiot.He could have at least waited until we ate.

I jumped to my left, blocking the swing of a dagger that was aimed directly at the back of one of Triaten’s men—no one got stabbed in the back on my watch. The dagger flew out of the woman’s hand and she turned to me, drawing a short sword just as a man next to me swiped a scimitar directly at my neck.

My blade instantly up to block, the metal never clashed against mine. Just above my shoulder, someone else’s sword had deflected the blow.

I spun around.

What the hell was this?

Another malefic stared down at me. This one tall and dark, in an impeccable suit, and utterly imposing.

Probably wanted the kill.

I wasn’t about to give him the chance. I sprung, my sword flying through the air, sending the malefic backward with blow after blow that he managed to block. Annoying. This space was too damn tight for my long sword.

The back of his thighs shoved up against an overturned table as he blocked my last blow, holding my sword on his, and he leaned in on me, his words a growl.

“A thank you would have sufficed.”

“For what?” He had my sword locked on his so I contorted my body and slammed my knee into his gut. A satisfying whoosh of air seethed out of his lips.

“For saving your damn life.” He drew our tangled swords downward.

I scoffed. “So you could kill me? I don’t think so.”

“Why would I save you to kill you?”

I tried to yank my sword upward, but he had it locked onto the floor. “You know exactly why. You thrive on the kill—all of you are the same.”

He smirked and crowded over me so far I had to crane my neck to look up at him. “You have a lot to learn, little dove.”

“Then why save me?” I ducked a chair that came flying at my head and he jerked away, giving me enough space to free my sword from his.

“Because a beauty like yours should live, no matter what side of the coin you fall on.”

I smiled sweetly at him. “Well then, thank you.”

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