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“Hands up. Drop the weapon,” the man holding me repeated, “or I will blow her fucking brains out right here and now.”
All things considered, a quick death wasn’t sounding all that bad compared to the other fate of torture and drowning that had just been laid out for me. And the last thing I wanted was Silar defenceless without his weapon now.
“Silar,” I croaked, tears coursing down my cheeks. “Don’t!”
Silar raised his hands into the air, a smooth, symmetrical motion.
“Silar, no!”
He dropped the knife.
My breath punched out of me in a gutted, guttural rush. It was over. Now, Silar didn’t even have a knife to defend himself.
Now, we would both die.
The man behind me let out a harsh sigh, his body relaxing when Silar released his blade. The blaster weapon eased ever so slightly from my temple.
But the knife…
The knife never hit the ground.
My heart stuttered to a stop when I realized that, even though Silar’s hand had dropped the knife…
His tail had caught it.
Blink-quick, that powerful whip of an appendage curled and snapped, sending the knife whistling through the air like a dart.
A thwunk of impact vibrated through my head. I’d been hit. A crushing, death-like weight surged down on me, driving me to the frost-tipped grass on the ground. Dazedly, I thought I heard a weapon blast off a round, but I barely heard it, because I was dying. Even now, it was almost impossible to breathe.
But then the weight lifted, warningless and sudden, cold air rushing in to fill the empty air around me. Stunned, I rolled onto my back, gasping and coughing, focusing my eyes as Silar dragged the other man’s huge, now-limp body off of me. I sat up, my head swimming and my stomach heaving when I saw the man’s face.
Silar’s knife was buried hilt-deep in his left eye.
He wasn’t dead, though. He seemed to be unconscious, but his breath was still gargling out of him. Once the man was clear of falling on me again, Silar shoved him down to the ground.
Then, he knelt down, yanked out his knife with a fury that should have terrified me…
And then he slit the man’s throat.
My hands shot to my mouth to contain a scream or a gasp or maybe a surge of bitter bile. The man’s blood coursed freely from his wound, soaking the grass. Silar breathed heavily, his knife in the air, his hands looking near-black in the light, his face shaped by strained shadow. He looked like he was going to stab the guy again, but then he rose, swift and silent.
“Are there others?” he uttered, clenching his knife hard in his hand while his wild, white gaze scraped over the scene.
“I don’t know.” My voice shook out of me. It sounded so much smaller than it usually did. “I don’t think so. He said his ship is near the trees.”
Instantly, Silar was on the move.
“Get inside the house,” he growled. “Lock the doors.”
“Silar!”
“Now, Cherry!”
“I… I don’t want to leave you!”
He flinched at my words, then, fangs bared and covered in blood, he stormed up to me.
“I cannot think while you are out here! I can barely breathe! I cannot…” He bit off his words with a growl, taking several grating breaths before, more quietly this time, he added, “I cannot live if you are not alright. I have to secure the property. Cherry. Please.” His white gaze searched mine. “I need you in that house.”
