“That cat doesn’t like me,” she whimpers.
“Or he wants in on the action,” I joke, needing to lighten the tension tonight more than I’ve needed anything in a while. If it gets too serious, I’m going to think about everything I’m walking away from. I might not be the best at jokes, but I need something. Anything right now.
“If he wants in, he’s going to have to put those claws away,” she grouses, and I know I’m good to grab the kit.
I clean her up, not sure what to say at this point. Apparently, a cat sex joke took the last of my words for now. Instead, I focus on getting all the blood off her, covering her back with even more Band-Aids.
Once that’s done, I sit back on my heels, and she rolls upright in front of me. “That wasn’t the afterglow I was hoping for,” she says.
“Me either. Want to, ah…” I motion at her thigh, the shiny residue I left captivating, but awkward to talk about. “Clean up? I’ll get the cat down. And find some way to secure the bag.”
“Paper clip,” she says, pushing to her feet and heading to the bathroom, turning back once, her eyes tracing my naked body in a way that has me wishing I were ready for round two. Not that we have time.
“What?” I say, dragging my mind back to the conversation.
“Paper clip. To lock the bag.”
“Ah. Smart.”
She grins, the door clicking behind her.
I go into the office to find what she suggested, eventually deciding the safety pin I find will work even better.
As I’m reaching for the bag to coax the cat back in, the crash of shattering glass has my vigilance rising full force, a dark form forcing the front door open.
“Clara, lock the door,” I shout, diving for the sword stand.
The dark figure rushes me, and I end up flinging the whole stand at him, barely snagging one of the wood handles before they clatter to the floor, the intruder stumbling over them. He looks up, and a grin flings across his face, his dark eyes bright with something that looks like excitement. I swing at him, but he barely ducks away, grabbing a sword of his own and spinning it to test its balance and weight, his boots sure, signaling he’s ready for action.
He knows what he’s doing.
“Can’t say I’ve ever been in a sword fight with a naked man,” he says as we circle each other. “Where’s the girl? You fuck her so good she disappeared? Or maybe so bad she took off?” He tilts his head, and it’s all I can do to keep my rage deep in my belly and not in my movements.
My silence bothers him, though, his face twisting. “What, cat got your tongue?”
The cat in the back chooses that moment to yowl, and the man laughs, a hysteric cackle that has goosebumps flaring across my skin. This man, whoever he is, is dangerous in a way I’ve never seen in-person before.
“Ah, cat didn’t get your tongue, then. You got a pretty pussy, then the pretty pussy got loose? You are shit at running, you know? Who takes the time to fuck on the run? And who can’t keep track of one house cat? Let alone one slip of a girl?”
He strikes and I parry, a series of quick blows, none of them landing, but the clack of wood has the cat yelling and flinging itself from the top of the cabinet. Only I can’t watch where it goes, all my focus on the man in front of me.
His voice is clear in the face of my silence as we both step back, his head tilting as he takes me in. He’s skilled, but by the way he moves, this sword isn’t the kind he’s trained with. Bow staff seems likely by the way he swings, but still. He’s got at least fiveyears of muscle on me and unknown additional training. This fight won’t be easily won.
“You know, you’re not the one I need here. Give me the girl and I’ll leave you and your pussy be.” His eyes glint, like he thinks that’s one hell of a joke. Or like he wants me to lose my temper.
But I’m not the sort to fight without a plan. And right now, I’m still building one. Risking a few more strikes and steps, I press for weaknesses, and I find a small one, my sword slamming into his hip before he can get his guard up.
This time, his grin stretches wide. “You’re a creepy thing, aren’t you? It makes me wish this blade were real. I’d cut off those dangly bits, just to see if you’d scream. Would you, do you think? Scream for me? It’s a rare man who wouldn’t when I go for his balls.”
The soft click of the bathroom door has my heart in my throat, and I hum a strange noncommittal sound, hoping to distract the man in front of me from whatever Clara is doing.
She should have stayed hidden, though. That would have been smart.
Another soft click across the room puts her in the office I just left, but that’s all I can focus on before the man is coming at me with force, trying to tease out my weaknesses.
We step and swipe, dodge and jab, our mixed techniques messy and frantic. The crack of the wood is familiar, but the growing unease in my gut is terrifying.
I’m strong; I know what I’m doing.
