"And this one?" Someone had Amelia now, was forcing her forward. "What about her?"
"Pretty enough. We'll take her too. Different market, but she'll sell."
Amelia made a sound like a wounded animal, and something in Enya snapped.
She drove her elbow back hard, felt it connect with something soft. The man holding her cursed, his grip loosening just enough?—
She wrenched free, stumbling toward Amelia. "Run! Run, we have tae?—"
A fist caught her across the face.
The world tilted. Enya hit the ground hard, tasting blood, her vision swimming. Strong hands hauled her up again, and this time the grip was brutal enough to make her bones creak.
"Stupid bitch," her captor snarled. "Ye'll pay for that."
The sound of hoofbeats cut through the chaos like thunder.
Two riders exploded into the clearing, moving so fast Enya barely registered them before the first attacker went down. Not fallen. Not stumbled.
Dead.
CHAPTER THREE
The first attacker didn't even have time to scream.
One moment he was standing, blade raised. The next he was on the ground, a spreading pool of darkness beneath him.
Enya's mind struggled to process what she'd just seen, the speed of it, the brutal efficiency.
Another man turned to face the riders and went down just as quickly.
"Fall back!" someone was shouting. "Fall back, ye all."
The two riders moved through the ambush like wolves through sheep—precise, lethal, unstoppable.
Enya couldn't look away from the pale-haired one. He was terrifying in a way that had nothing to do with rage or chaos. Every movement was controlled. Deliberate. Like he'd done it a thousand times before and found it barely worth his attention.
The sword in his hand caught the dying light as he cut down another attacker. Blood sprayed across his face, his neck, his chest. He didn't even flinch.
Handsome. The most terrifying, dangerous, beautiful thing I've ever seen.
The thought was so absurd—so completely inappropriate given that she was standing in the middle of a massacre—that it almost made her laugh.
Or maybe it was hysteria.
"Me lady!" Amelia's voice cut through the haze. "Me lady, we need tae move."
But Enya couldn't move. Could only stand there watching as the pale-haired rider dispatched the last of the attackers with the same cold efficiency he'd shown the others.
One man managed to break away, fleeing into the trees. The rider let him go, his attention already shifting to the clearing.
To the bodies.
To her.
Their eyes met, and Enya's breath caught.
Up close, he was even more overwhelming. Tall—easily a head taller than her—with sharp features that might have been handsome if they weren't currently splattered with other men's blood. His hair was pale, almost white in the fading light, and his eyes...
