Page 114 of To Catch A Rogue
"No, he can't. I offered challenge. I'm locked into it now."
Obsidian tugged his sleeve up and withdrew a steel armguard. "Wear this. It will give you an extra defense."
Lark allowed him to strap it to her left forearm. It didn't entirely fit, but with her sleeve pulled down over the top of it, it worked.
"She's wearing a gown and a corset," he continued. "Push her, but stay out of her reach. Let her wind herself. Her slippers will be precarious on the marble floors too."
Lark nodded.
And then the auctioneer was calling her forward.
"First blood?" he asked Lady Kirinov.
"Death," the woman said, her eyes narrowing. "I want to slit her throat and drink her blood."
"No rules," the auctioneer decreed, stepping back and raising his hands.
The first blow swung at her like lightning.
Lark danced on light feet, deflecting it with the tip of her left blade. Lady Kirinov had a longer reach, but only one weapon. Lark couldn't meet a direct blow, and so she didn't.
She only had to make sure they didn't make contact with her.
Steel whirring, she crouched low and deflected. Tap, and the sword skewered the air an inch from her side. There was an opening there, and Lark took it, her right knife slashing across Lady Kirinov's wrist.
Then she was rolling in, slamming her elbow into the back of the woman's head as Lark danced past her.
Rage gleamed in Kirinov's blackening eyes. This was what she wanted. The rise of the woman's hunger would grant her a rush of blood and speed, but it would also make her reckless.
The sword blurred as it slashed toward her.
Lark rolled her knife as they met, and the sword slid harmlessly past her. But Kirinov was ready this time. She turned the lunge into a backhanded slash, and the edge cut through the front of Lark's coat, bringing with it a sting.
Then she was fighting for her life.
She lost herself in the movements, attention locked on the sword. Steel rang on steel, and sparks spat as she drove the sword into the marble and kicked up, the heel of her boot slamming into Kirinov's lovely teeth. She poured all the rage she'd been brewing for Sergey into every movement.
The woman screamed as she staggered backward, spitting a tooth. Blood splattered on the marble.
The sharp edge whistled past her ears, and Lark barely blocked with the arm guard. The tip slashed through the muscle in her upper arm. Lark ducked under the blow, and there was a second opening.
She lunged forward, driving her knife between the other woman's ribs.
Kirinov gasped, and Lark hesitated, unused to following through. The sword skidded down her armguard, and skated along her unprotected upper arm. Lark screamed, and it was just the motivation she needed.
She twisted the knife, feeling it catch on the woman's ribs.
Her left arm was on fire, but she used it to hold Lady Kirinov's sword arm in place and then drove her knee up into the woman's elbow. This time, it was Kirinov's turn to scream.
No time for mercy. She'd learned that lesson. To the death, they'd said.
Lark slashed her second blade across the blue blood's throat as the sword clattered to the ground. Blood spattered across the floor, and the predator within her could suddenly smell it.
All color drained from the room.
Blood. She just wanted blood.
This woman had meant to hurt Charlie.
