Angel's Assassin (15 page)

Grimacing, the assassin opened his hand,
releasing the sword. Damien pummeled the assassin’s face with a
series of punches. His anger knotted like a rope inside him. How
dare he threaten Aurora’s life? He smashed the man’s face again.
Blood erupted from the assassin’s nose.

Damien lifted his fist for another blow.
Recognition tickled the cobwebs of his memory, but he did not stop.
He hit the assassin again.

The man groaned.

Damien raised his fist again.

The man snarled a toothless grimace. He was
missing his two front teeth.

Damien froze, his fist lifted; his gaze swept
the assassin’s face. He recognized him. The bald man in the
stairwell. The man he suspected killed Marie, the servant girl who
gave the poisoned wine to Aurora. He could have stopped him in the
stairwell. He could have…

The man’s eyes blazed liquid hatred at
Damien. “The bitch should be dead by now,” the man spat at him and
reached his hand out for his weapon.

Damien snarled silently at the man and
delivered another brutal blow to his cheek. Hot, irrational rage
filled him. He rose off the assassin, visibly trembling with his
fury. He picked the man’s sword up. Damien stared down at the
assassin for a long moment, silently cursing himself for his
stupidity in not recognizing him before. “Why are you here?” he
demanded.

The man sat up, turning his head to spit a
tooth out. “I have a job ta complete.”

“Roke’s paying you?”

“Well.”

Damien narrowed his eyes. What the devil was
Roke up to? he wondered. Why send him, promising his freedom upon
completion, and then send other assassins to complete the job?
There was only one option. Roke had no intention of freeing him. It
was just another one of Roke’s twisted games to torment him. Damien
whirled, his gaze scanning the area for Aurora.

She sat near a tree, her knees pulled up to
her chest, her eyes wide and tearful.

Damien’s heart ached at seeing her so
frightened. He stepped toward her.

“What’s the matter, Damien, lost the stomach
for your craft?” the assassin called from behind him.

Damien stopped; his jaw ached from clenching
it so tightly. A furious, all-consuming wrath filled him. “No,” he
said calmly and whirled, the sword coming around quickly and
deadly. With one precise blow, he swiped the assassin’s head clean
off his body.

With a scowl of contempt, Damien drove the
sword into the ground near the assassin’s fallen body. He turned to
Aurora. Her face was pale, her beautiful eyes squeezed shut.

Damien faltered. She had seen his dark side.
She saw him kill the assassin with no remorse, no mercy. He should
leave. He should turn around and get the hell out of here. Roke be
damned.

Instead, he took a step toward her. Would he
ever see those blue eyes light with warmth when she looked at him?
An irrational fear tightened around his heart. He reached out a
hand to her. “Are you---?”

She launched herself past his open palm and
into his arms. “Damien,” she whispered.

For a moment, Damien stood shocked, shocked
she would touch him after seeing how he had killed the assassin.
And then, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she was
alive. Damien wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight.

A movement shifted through the forest. Damien
froze suddenly and jerked his head sharply to his left. He firmly
set her away from him. He grabbed the sword from the ground and
stepped in front of Aurora, scanning the surrounding trees. The
dead assassin’s blood slowly dripped down the blade. The brush
around them bent slightly in a soft breeze, drawing his attention
this way and that. No birds sang. No sound other than the defiant
rustle of leaves reached his ears. He stood very still, waiting for
whoever was out there to move first. He was convinced someone else
was there.

Damien heard the rustle of Aurora’s skirts as
she moved up to him. She touched his arm with trembling
fingers.

Anger tightened Damien’s fist. How many
damned assassins were after her? After this one little, innocent
woman? How many assassins did it take to kill her? How many
assassins was Roke willing to risk in this game? “Are you hurt?” he
whispered to her. He kept his gaze moving, scanning the area around
them as he talked, his sword grasped tightly. When Aurora didn’t
respond, Damien turned his head toward her. “Are you hurt?” he
demanded.

“Damien,” she whispered. Her voice was full
of fear. Her hand squeezed around his arm.

Suddenly, the forest shifted. Damien’s head
spun and his footing wavered. Damn, he thought frantically. Damn!
The poison. Not now. He couldn’t let it cloud his mind. Not with
another assassin waiting for Aurora. Damien turned to Aurora. He
had to get her out of there.

He looked around, but he could barely focus.
His vision wavered, focusing and then blurring, clear then hazy.
No, he thought. Not now. He glanced down at Aurora. Her large eyes
looked to him for protection.

He cursed. “Run,” he told her.

Shocked confusion furrowed her brow.
“Run?”

“There is someone else out there.”

He saw her eyes widen and his heart ached.
Anxiety knotted tight in his stomach. She was so beautiful. So
innocent. So frightened. Damien could not let anyone hurt her. But
right now, he couldn’t prevent it. His eyes rolled and he toppled
forward to the ground.

H
orror
engulfed Aurora as Damien crumpled to a heap at her feet. For a
moment, she could not move. She stared at his fallen body, a swirl
of emotions rocking her, fear for Damien and for herself, concern,
shock. Run! His word exploded through her mind. She whirled to
obey, but did not even take a step before she realized what she was
contemplating. She turned back to him. How could she even think of
leaving him?

She fell to her knees at his side, lifting
trembling hands to his bare shoulders, shaking him anxiously.
“Damien,” she called. “Damien!” She pressed her ear to his chest.
His heart was beating. Thank the Lord.

She had to get him help! She glanced at
the trees and bushes of the forest, and remembered his
words.
‘There is someone else out
there.’
A swell of terror crested inside her. Dark
shadows shifted behind the trees in the corners of her vision. She
was alone. Alone with an assassin in the forest. She frantically
scanned her surroundings, trying to peer into the walls of bushes,
looking past the thick tree trunks to find the killer. A breeze
ruffled the leaves of a tree. A bird exploded from the cover of a
group of branches. A rabbit scurried from a bush, racing across the
forest floor.

There were too many shadows to hide the
murderer from her eyes. Damien said he was out there. He had been
right on every other count. He wouldn’t be wrong about this. Her
gaze dropped to him. Her hand still rested on his bare
shoulder.

She felt inadequate and frightened. Powerless
anger welled through her. He was her bodyguard! He was supposed to
protect her! Her hands tightened around his arms and she shook him,
desperately.

A cry shuddered through her body. Trembling
like a frightened child, she sat back on her heels and wrapped
herself in a solitary embrace, the icy hand of terror snaking its
way along her spine. She was alone.

Stop it! Aurora commanded herself. You are
not a child. Damien needs you now.

He looked so helpless lying on the ground. So
peaceful. Even his scowling brow was smooth in peace. His chest
rose and fell with each breath. His leg was bent slightly at the
knee and she could see the tear in his leggings; the cut still
dripped blood. Poison.

If she didn’t do something, Damien would
die.

No, she thought with determination. I will
not let him die. She rose to her feet. She had to get help. She
took a handful of steps, but froze, glancing back at Damien lying
prone on the forest floor. What if the assassin comes back and
finds him? She could not leave him alone. She searched the forest,
glancing at the leaves of the majestic trees, at the fallen
branches on the forest floor, somehow hoping for a sign, praying
for a way to help Damien.

If I could just get him back to the
castle…

Through the veil of leaves swirling about the
forest, she saw the fallen mare and dread slithered through her.
Damien would be dead soon if she could not get help.

Imp! The thought swept through her mind like
a rush of water. “Imp!” Aurora cried, whirling to look for the
escaped warhorse. “IMP!”

Suddenly, something crackled behind her. She
whipped her head around to see a man approaching. He was tall, with
midnight hair and hard brown eyes. His lips twisted down with
disapproval as he stared at Damien.

Aurora grabbed the sword from the ground and
lifted it before her, stepping in front of Damien.

“What happened to him?” he demanded.

“Who are you?” she insisted. Was he here to
help? Or was he the assassin? Her gaze swept his body, resting on
the dagger in his belt.

His dark eyes turned to her. “What happened
to him?” he asked harshly.

“Poison,” she uttered. “Who are you?”

He stepped toward her, his gaze sweeping
Damien’s body with a growing unease.

She held the sword before her, refusing to
give ground. If he were the assassin, she would not let him near
Damien.

He drew closer and Aurora did not move aside.
The coldness in his glare made Aurora shiver, but she clutched the
sword tighter, more determined.

He drew his dagger from his belt. “Where was
he hit?”

Hit? How did he know about the poisoned
arrows?

She lifted the sword until its tip pointed at
the stranger’s stomach. “You will not touch him,” she
proclaimed.

“Speak now, Lady, if you wish to save his
life.”

Aurora studied the man. Strands of dark hair
hung about his face. His hair was pulled back into a coif. Cold
eyes offered no answer to who he was. She did not recognize him
from the village, and yet there was something familiar about him.
“Will you help him?”

A muscle moved in his jaw. “I will do my
best.”

Aurora lowered the sword. “His thigh.”

The man knelt at Damien’s side, examining his
leg. When he spotted the tear in Damien’s leggings, he seized the
material and ripped it open to reveal the wound.

“What are you doing?” Aurora asked, kneeling
beside him.

His lips hitched with a half grin, as if he
found something amusing. He removed a flask from his belt, uncorked
it and poured some liquid over Damien’s wound.

Aurora watched the man work on Damien’s leg.
She stroked Damien’s opposite leg softly, hoping this stranger
could save him from the poison. Damien was so pale, his strong body
limp and lifeless.

The man stopped to look at her hand where it
rested against Damien’s leg, then at her face. A silent question
appeared in his eyes before he sat back away from Damien.

“Will he be all right?” Aurora asked softly,
staring at Damien’s still face.

“Yes,” the man answered.

Slowly, distrustfully, Aurora looked at the
man. “Who are you?”

“You should leave here now,” the man
advised.

Aurora looked at Damien. “No. I will not
leave him.”

“You risk your life by staying.”

A chill swept through her. She knew she
should go, but she could not leave Damien. Determination squared
her shoulders. “He has risked his life more than once for me. I
will not leave him.”

The man shook his head in disgust. His
fingers tightened about the dagger. “Then you leave me no
choice.”

E
arn your freedom
, the voice commanded.
Complete your mission.

I can’t, Damien tried to answer.

You are not like
her
, the voice said in a velvety caress.
You can never be like her. One day, she will see
the ugliness you have in your soul and she will turn her back on
you. Just like your father.

No, Damien replied. She would never do
that.

You cannot lie to
me
, the voice answered.
I
know your greatest fears. I feel your worst pains. Do not love
her
.

I am incapable of love, Damien said.

Then finish it.

Damien bolted upright, reaching for his
weapon. His fingers closed over leaves and twigs. His sword was not
there!

Aurora! Where was she?

His gaze swept his surroundings. Moonlight
bathed the leaf-cluttered ground in dark and light patches.
Silhouettes of trees and brush circled him. He was still in the
forest. Had Aurora run as he commanded her? Then he saw her nearby,
in a pool of dappled moonlight, laying still.

Damien crawled across the small expanse to
her side. Tentatively, he reached for her, stretching his fingers
toward her slowly. He was afraid he was still locked in the throes
of a nightmare, fearful that when he touched her she would
disappear, vanish as if she had never really existed. His hand
carefully stroked the luxurious strands of her hair, and when his
angel did not vanish or turn into some horrible monster, Damien
grew bolder. He lifted his hand to the curve of her cheek,
smoothing a beautiful golden lock from her skin.

“She is unharmed.”

Tingles of warning flared in his body. How
could he have missed his presence? Fighting dizziness, Damien stood
and slowly turned.

The man materialized out of the darkness,
looking every bit as confident as Damien remembered.