Only to have his hands caught by Garroway Kuffich. My dhampir mate pulls the vampire into the room, draws daggers, andnailshis hands against the wall at either side of the windowbefore the vampire can move another inch, pinning him in the aperture.
Skartovius walks next through Vall’s shadow, which was cast when the window opened and the moonlight crept in from the arrival of these assassins.
Big mistake opening the window.
Skar spins at the sound of fighting behind him, shoulders under Vallan, and thrusts his sword into the assassin’s chest. He isn’t using his silver saber since he gave it to Lukain, but his precision is enough to strike the vampire’s heart.
The assassin drops dead, out of Vallan’s grip.
My towering mate staggers from the two arrows in him. He turns to make sure I’m okay. Everything has happened in twenty seconds or less, and it was too dark and swift for me to react.
Now Garro snarls at the vampire at the window, having hauled him into the room as a prisoner. The assassin groans, the bastard crucified against the wall.
“Who sent you?” Garroway demands.
The assassin spits—
And misses Garroway. At point-blank range.
That’s when I notice he wasn’t spitting saliva. It was atoothhe spit out. A scent I recognize from Old Endolf’s alchemy room fills the room: silver and sulfur and mercury.
“Wait!” I cry out, reaching futilely.
The vampire in the window erupts into a wreath of white-hot flames as he bites down on something in his mouth. Garroway hops back so he isn’t enveloped in the conflagration.
The assassin screams and squeals, quickly silenced by his immolated body. It sets alight the curtains but not the rough stone making up the walls of the room.
Skartovius growls to himself, to everyone, and flicks his wrist toward the embers of the corpse. Shadows thrust from thefloor—my own shadow included—and wrap around the burning carcass like a heavy blanket.
The fire snuffs out, leaving an ashen skeleton in its wake.
The room falls deadly quiet.
Skartovius turns, faces me—everyone does.
The nobleblood storms toward me in the doorway.
I step aside before he can barrel over me, and then I lean out the door, calling down the hall, “Where are you going?!”
“To get fuckinganswers!”
Chapter 4
Sephania
I’m having whiplash. The night went from tantalizing sex to shocking violence in a matter of heartbeats. Way too fast for my liking. Typically, I prefer my sex and violencetogetherbecause we all want it, not because it’s thrust upon me by assassins in my fucking window.
I scurry after Skar with Vallan and Garroway right behind me. They stick with me, not charging after the nobleblood, and I realize they’re more concerned for my safety than his, which is why they’re in no hurry to catch up to the furious ex-lord.
Heavy steps round a corner nearby and my mates draw their weapons—
As Lukain comes into view, silver saber drawn. With a heavy breath, he looks me up and down. I can only imagine what he sees: loose nightgown askew on my shoulders, hair unkempt, eyes wide with shock.
“I came when I heard sounds,” he says, flaring his nostrils. “What happened?”
I point ahead to where Skar’s fluttering gold-red cloak recedes into the darkness down the hall as he marches away. “Join us and find out.”
With a quick nod, Lukain sheathes his father’s sword and gets in line behind me. I feel protected and firm with these three in my shadow, swallowing me whole with their body heat.