Page 30 of Ember and Eclipse
Devdan marked her. With his head slanted down and his tempest-filled gaze, he watched her in that way of his—as if she were prey running around in a trap he had prepared long before she realized it was sprung. His large form filled the entryway, and without looking away from her, he closed the door behind him.
“What’s this?” His voice was eerily calm as if he’d known exactly what he would find when he opened the door. He began rolling up the sleeves of his tunic, casually preparing for a fight. They called him the Wolf of Romul, but right then, he wore Death’s face. He was the god of it and had come to collect.
“Let him go,” Rel pleaded. “He was just checking on me. I told him everything is fine, husband.”
“Hmm,” he paused in his actions, considering her request. His gaze went from hers to Silas behind her, and she heard the mercenary involuntarily inhale.
A knowing smirk curled the hunter’s mouth. “You’re lying is no better than your knife skills. Or your escape plans. I told you what would happen if he became a problem.”
Silas, for his part, drew a crude-looking knife, the room much too small to use his sword strapped to his back. Closing his other hand around her arm, he attempted to pull Rel out of the way.
She held her ground the best she could, putting weight on her bad ankle with a hiss.
Devdan’s eyes darkened a moment before he pulled out a dagger—the same one he’d eviscerated the malwolf with just last night. He twirled it in his hand. “And you said he wasn’t an idiot.”
Silas scoffed, pressing against her again. “Let’s be done with it then,” he said harshly.
“Just stop.” She grabbed Silas’ forearm to calm him and motioned for Devdan to lower his weapon.
But the hunter stepped forward instead with predatory intent. “Let’s.” And gods, she’d seen him fight, had fought him herself. If he wanted to kill the mercenary, there was nothing she would be able to do to stop it.
“Do you have another weapon?” Rel asked Silas desperately. Maybe if they took him on together…
But he pushed her out of the way and, landing on her bad ankle, she crumpled to the floor.
“Don’t kill him!” she screamed, scrambling back to her feet, but it was too late.
It took Devdan only a moment to close the distance between him and the mercenary. Silas attacked, his skill with a knife impressive, but not enough. The hunter dodged it easily, planting his fist in the other man’s face. A sound of cracking bone preceded blood gushing from his nose. The mercenary managed to recover enough to dazedly block an attack. But after the briefest of struggles, his knife spun high, and Devdan swiped it out of the air deftly. Silas was against the wall, his own blade at his throat.
Silas bit out a curse, his hands coming up in surrender.
“He’s just one man,” Rel said hurriedly, grabbing Devdan’s arm. “You can’t kill him here anyway!”
When Devdan didn’t even glance at her, only pressing the blade harder into the mercenary’s throat, causing blood to pool on the silver edge, she tugged at his arm.
“Devdan, please…” Her voice was hoarse.
He turned his head to look at her, his focus moving from her hand to her eyes with such intensity she almost let his arm go. Instead, as soothingly as she could, she said, “I promise he’ll leave and never come back.”
His gaze found Silas again, considering, assessing. Then he lowered the blade.
The mercenary breathed a sigh of relief.
But not even a second later, Devdan brought the knife down into his thigh, burying it to the hilt. Silas groaned, clenching his teeth as he doubled over from the pain.
Rel gasped, lunging at the hunter, but he merely pushed her back. As sick as she was, it took little force to send her off balance.
Stepping away from the mercenary, Devdan motioned with a tilt of his head toward the door. “If I see you again anywhere between here and Romul, that knife will be in your throat instead.”
Silas spared Rel a single glance. His face was covered in blood, his blue eyes full of unshed tears. He had come for her, but he wasn’t enough. Never had anyone tried to rescue her before, and now it had happened twice in less than a day, and neither were pleasant experiences.
“I’m sorry,” she mouthed, her voice lost somewhere in the depths of her.
Silas’ gaze hardened before he looked away from her. Limping across the room, knife still in his thigh, he left her with the Wolf.
The moment the door shut, Rel exhaled hard, slumping down on the bed from exhaustion.
“You’re ill,” Devdan stated.
