A blade now gripped in each hand, I give them an expert whirl and start stalking forward.
5
Someone shouts “Lachlan, Keegan, stop,” but I ignore the voice as I prowl forward. It’s time to end this shit and show these assholes what I can really do. The commandstopbellows out around me again, and for some unknown reason, this time I listen.
The green-eyed asshole does the same, sneaking wary glances my way, but the ball of light disappears from his hands. I back up until I can see all five of the strangers as they gather in front of me. I’m tense and ready for any of them to come at me. Energy still crackles over my skin in a steady warning. The strands of hair that have fallen out of my braids are floating around my face like I’m surrounded by water, instead of pissed-off power.
“Lachlan, why are you attacking her? She’s on our side!” Aydin yells at green eyes.
The chanter stands just behind Aydin, and I can feel his caramel brown eyes on me as he brushes back a few wisps of his raven locks from his face. He’s not as tall as some of his buddies, and I would place the lot of them in their early to mid-forties. His midnight curls are mostly pulled back, but a few strands have escaped and stick to his day-old inky stubble. His skin matches the caramel tone of his eyes.
“How is she on our side?Sheattacked me!” the guy, apparently named Lachlan, defends.
“Oh, please, I pushed you, I didn’t attack you. I didn’t even fight back until you three assholes ganged up on me!” I correct him.
They all turn to me like they’re surprised I can talk. I don’t get the vibe that any of them plan to attack me, and it’s obvious I’m in a different league when it comes to fighting. They’re all breathing heavy from exertion, and even though they’re fit for men their age, they’ve got nothing on me. I release the energy maintaining the swords’ solid form, and they fade from my hands into nothing.
“Holy shit! So that’s how you kept from bashing my head in,” the tattooed guy marvels out loud. “I’m Evrin, by the way,” he offers.
Evrin holds his hand out. I just stare at it--yeah not a chance buddy--I’ve seen what his friends can do with their hands, and I’m not going down from what was supposed to be a friendly handshake.
Evrin’s dark brown hair fades from long on the top to very short on the sides. It’s super disheveled, either from all the activity or how he styles it. He looks strong like the others, but I wouldn’t call him bulky, like the men they were fighting.
His features have a baby-faced quality to them. He looks younger, closer to his thirties than the others in this group. The innocence in his face is at odds with his heavily tattooed body. There’s not an inch of skin, aside from his face and ears, that isn’t decorated with ink.
“You’re welcome," I tell him with a sardonic grin and his boyish face lights up with a genuine smile.
“Thank you,” rumbles out into the night, but it’s not the tattooed guy who speaks but Aydin, the ginger giant.
He easily stands a foot taller than me, and he’s thickly framed and stacked with muscle. His red, wavy hair hangs just past his shoulders, and I offhandedly wonder why he doesn’t tie it back when he fights. It must get in the way. He has a short beard that softens the angles of his jawline, and his dark denim blue eyes bear those crinkly wrinkles people who laugh and smile a lot get. I find it odd when I notice he’s not bleeding or favoring the side that I know took a knife earlier.
“Yes, and thank you from me, too,” the chanter adds.
I give a small nod to both of them.
“Well you’ll get no thanks from me; you let my shifter get away!” Lachlan huffs.
Shifter?
I guess that explains the sudden appearance of grizzlies in the Nevada desert. First the fanged fuckers, now shifters? Throw in whatever these guys are, and there’s a hell of a lot more out there in this world than I ever thought possible. I swat away the shit ton of questions I now have and glare at Lachlan.
“He was surrendering. Who fucking kills someone when they’re surrendering?” I ask him, condemnation saturating my tone.
“They’re traffickers. We haveordersto kill them.”
“Well... I didn’t know that” I snap back, the righteous indignation falling from my voice.
“Of course not, because you have no business being here. Is vigilantism how you get your rocks off?” Lachlan sneers at me, and I snort out a laugh.
“Dude, rein in the asshole if you want any answers from me," I warn him.
Get your rocks off? Okay, grandpa.Seriously, who says that? When Lachlan remains quiet, I decide that maybe I should explain why I stuck my nose--or knife rather--into their business.
“I fought here tonight. I was leaving when I stumbled into all this shit. One minute I was staring at the empty desert, the next I was watching some guy try to kill your friend," I gesture to the chanter.
Lachlan turns his angry gaze on the chanter “How’d she get through your barrier, Silva?”
“I don’t know. It shouldn't have been possible. I didn’t feel any breaches in the magic. She just appeared inside,” Silva adds, as he studies me.
