Page 61 of Close Quarter
Truth. Silas's whole body shook with the shame of it.
"You'll never be free of me."
A thin tendril of energy wound its way up Silas's leg, full of life and vigor. He lifted his head and looked into Rhys's brilliant green eyes.
"Cut the fucker down."Those words were in his head, along with Rhys's anger. And his love.
Silas gripped the hilt of his sword. Lifted it.
"I'll be free of you when I slice your head off."
Anaxandros laughed again. "I'm going to take your toy, Quintus. I'm going to break him as I broke you." His talons pierced Rhys's neck.
With Rhys between him and Anaxandros, he could only catch the soulless in the leg. If he moved correctly, if Anaxandros didn't block with Rhys's body.
It was Rhys's voice, heavy with hate, that broke the silence. "I'm not his toy." Rhys moved like lightning, reached out, grabbed the steak knife from the table setting, and rammed it backward into Anaxandros's chest.
Silas lunged, his sword catching the cloth of Anaxandros's pants, a bit of flesh too, for the smelled of charred meat met his nostrils.
Anaxandros retreated before Silas could land another blow. He pulled the knife from his chest and threw it at Rhys.
Or rather, at Rhys's empty chair. Gods only knew where he had gone or how he could have moved so fast.
Anaxandros snarled at Silas. "I'll have him, Quintus. I'll suck the marrow from his bones while I drown you in his blood."
Rhys stepped out of the shadows into the sun.
"If you want me, fuckhead, come and get me." His hair glowed like a mass of molten copper strands, his skin gold in the afternoon light. He stood as proud and as beautiful as any fae warrior ever had.
The element that whipped about him was richer and deeper than any Silas could call. All that was missing from the image was a sword in Rhys's hand.
How many wars had Quarters fought for themselves?
Element struck Silas then, filling him, expanding his senses.
Anaxandros surged forward, drawn to the brightness that was Rhys. Rhys stepped back, farther into the sunlight. Flames licked up from the soulless's skin when he crossed out of shadow.
Silas rushed toward the soulless. He'd never have a better chance than this.
Flesh sizzled and popped before Anaxandros's taloned hands reached Rhys.
Rhys bared his teeth, malice in his smile.
The soulless fell back into shade, his face and arms blackened, butonlyblackened. No more flame came, no killing curls of fire from within the soulless. Silas aimed his blow at Anaxandros's head. The energy Rhys poured into Silas quickened his motions. Time slowed; his aim was perfect.
Claws closed about the gladius's blade.
Pieces of blackened flesh fell from Anaxandros's face, revealed pale skin, and turned to ash. "Too slow, sprite." He pushed Silas backward. Turned.
In the time it took Silas to regain his balance, the soulless had left the restaurant.
A snarl rose in Silas's throat.So close!A fraction of a second sooner and Anaxandros would have been dust. He crossed most of the floor before Rhys's voice caught him.
"Silas, don't."
He halted. "I can catch him. Kill him. I'll never have another chance like this." His vision bled red at the edges; his chest heaved against the burning need to follow.
"Silas Quint." Rhys's voice caressed Silas's mind. "Kill?"
