Page 131 of Blood & Claw

Darach’s gaze dropped to her hands then, and she curled her fingers into her palms before she could stop herself. The image of torn throats flared again, sharp and sickening.

He looked up then, searching her face. She held still beneath his scrutiny, every muscle tight. “We fight to kill tonight, Ailsa. Are you ready?”

“Aye,” she replied, her voice roughening. “We’ve hunted those fuckers for long enough. They’ll not take Kayla a yard farther.”

He nodded. His hand lifted then, and for an instant, she thought he might stroke her cheek. Then, his jaw tightened, and he pulled away.

Ailsa’s heart started to pound. Couldn’t he even bring himself to touch her?

She wanted to have it out with him—to make him admit it to her face—but there was no time.

“Here,” Darach said, drawing a long-bladed dagger from its sheath on his thigh. “Tuck it into your belt and give it to Kayla when you free her.”

Rising to her feet, she slid the dagger beneath her belt so that the grip sat against her spine.

“Right.” Darach’s voice held a businesslike, detached edge now. The mercenary was about to get the job done. “Let’s go.”

They moved off, two silent figures threading through the trees, leading Rùn down to the southern edge of the corrie. The waxing moon was rising, glimmering through the wreathing mist. All the same, the night was uncannily still. Noise traveled, and every time the stallion’s heavy hooves made a twig snap or brushed against undergrowth, Ailsa’s pulse leaped.

Eventually, Darach drew his horse up. They were close to the fire now; its faint glow reached them through the trees.

They were likely nearing the sentry and had to move very quietly.

Ailsa’s nostrils flared.

She could smell him. The reek of unwashed male. Just a few yards away. Waiting in the shadows.

The glint in Darach’s eyes told her he’d caught it too.

Nodding to her, he handed Rùn’s reins over.

An instant later, he disappeared in the direction of the camp.

Ailsa waited, and shortly after, he returned, silent as a wraith, to her side.

She shot him a questioning look, and he nodded before whispering, “It was the one with the injured leg.”

The first of the warriors had been dealt with. It was now time to move on with their plan.

To her surprise, Darach shifted close to her, his head dipping to murmur in her ear. “Watch your back, Ailsa.” Then, without another word, he took his horse’s reins.

Stepping up to the stallion, he pressed his forehead briefly to Rùn’s and murmured something low. The horse shivered, muscles bunching as if he too understood what was about to happen.

Ailsa left them to it, slipping away through the trees without another word.

She’d skirt the eastern edge of the corrie, crawling through the shadows to where Kayla sat, unaware that she was about to be rescued.

The mist swallowed Ailsa, and as it did, she heard a ‘thwack’ as Darach struck the stallion hard on the rump.

Rùn squealed and exploded forward. Branches cracked, hooves thundered downhill.

The night’s stillness shattered.

Ailsa dropped to her hands and knees and began to crawl.

Something sharp stabbed at her palm, and she bit back a hiss. She was just a few yards from the group now, hidden behind a growth of blackthorn.

The warriors leaped to their feet, iron scraping against leather as they drew their blades. And then, as they’d anticipated, one of them stalked toward the ruckus that Rùn had caused. Meanwhile, the other two watched him go.