Page 113 of Sword & Shadow
Her breath caught in a fresh fear. If the Night Mage were here, she would have to escape. She couldn’t let him take her alive. Not when that meant he would do worse than Nev could ever threaten.
A loudcrackslammed to their right—a door crashing open.
Nev grabbed Evylin’s arm, twisting her around. He wrapped an arm across her chest, pressing her against him as he raised his knife to her throat. The cold metal stung.
Anothercrack, slightly more distant.
“Don’t let them in,” Nev commanded.
The order held no authority. Not as the door sailed open, its frame splintered from the force that tore the latch from its set. A man stood in the doorway, shadows of a purple so dark it could be black curling around him. Evylin’s lips parted as she took in Deckard. Crimson splatter stained his wool coat. Shimmering forms coalesced and encircled him within the shadows, jagged shards of magic that seemed to emanate from his hands. Her heart stuttered at the violent look in his dark glare.
The five sellswords took a step back at the frightful sight of him.
Nev pressed his knife tightly to Evylin’s throat. “Stay right there,” he ordered.
Deckard remained still, taking in the room with stoic composure. Then his gaze landed on Evylin. He studied her in the same manner as she studied him, scanning her as though to confirm her identity. Their eyes met, and her veins flared with anticipation. There was a depth and intensity within his stare, his eyes a rich verdant green, darker than she’d ever seen. This was not the man she’d married. And yet, something in her said that the man before her was in the truest form he’d ever taken.
As magic coiled around his entire frame, the expression on his face fierce and controlled, Evylin stared in awe. He was terrifying. Yet, the Warrior inside of her had never found him so attractive. She yearned to tear herself free and run to him. Her heart pounded, and her muscles quaked, ready for action.
Deckard smiled enticingly. “Hello, dear,” he said, his voice as deep and captivating as his gaze.
An impulsive instinct drew Evylin to take a step forward, only Nev’s grasp and knife halting her. A sharp sting followed by the heat of pain told her the blade had cut through the top layer of skin.
Deckard’s eyes narrowed.
Nev tightened his grip on Evylin, steadying the knife. “A step closer and your lovely wife here is dead,” he threatened.
Deckard gave him a bland glance. “I already killed all your men downstairs,” he said impassively. “You think these few will stop me?”
Nev’s hand began to shake, nicking Evylin again. “You may kill the others, yeah. But if you try to kill me, she’ll die before you make the first move.”
A dry grin pulled on Deckard’s lips. “I don’t intend to kill you,” he said, then tipped his chin toward Evylin. “She’ll do that.”
The ominous remark had its intended effect. Nev hesitated, and Deckard flicked his wrist.
With a cry of horror, Nev’s grip loosened. “I can’t see!” he exclaimed.
The world slowed as, with a sudden surge, the magic raging within Evylin’s veins took dominance. Each second stretched, giving her the strange ability to take in everything at once. The five sellswords rushed Deckard as he stepped into the room. He raised his hands, the purple-black shadows twisting into razor-shaped crystals. Ethenn swept in behind him, hatchet at theready. He took down two guards while she watched as Deckard’s magic tore through the rest. Awe filled her body, tingling along her skin as the moment passed with magically induced omniscience.
As Nev reached for his magic-blinded eyes, their irises shrouded in deep purple, Evylin lifted her bound wrists, slamming her fists into his hand. He dropped the knife, letting it fall end over end through the air. Her enhanced sight glimpsed a bead of her blood clinging to the edge. As she reached for the weapon, a black, crystalline shard swept across the room, slicing through the ropes to free her hands. The knife’s handle dropped into her palm, and Evylin spun, plunging the blade down. It severed through flesh and sinew, and Nev collapsed, the weapon protruding from his neck as he thudded to the ground.
And time resumed its natural course.
Evylin turned, relief flooding through her. She hardly had time to process Deckard’s oncoming figure before he was there. She managed a single gasp of air as he took her face in his hands. Then his mouth covered hers.
The lingering remnants of magic snapped taut between them. Her skin tingled under his fingertips. The rush ripped through her like a current, carrying her far out to sea. And all at once, she was more alive than ever before. This was no gentle kiss or tender caress. It was a furious, demanding passion that refused to let either of them go.
Deckard’s arms encircled her, pressing her firmly against him. The longing she’d felt upon seeing him took control. Her fingers latched onto the collar of his coat, pulling him into a deeper kiss. She could feel his heart racing under her hand and hear it beating in time with hers. Their breath mingled, neither of them willing to break for a full inhale. His hands wandered with a freedom he’d never allowed, trailing shivers across her skin. She was vaguely aware that he’d pressed her against thewall. A desperation woke within her, a need she’d tried to ignore for far too long.
Every barrier she’d placed between them was gone. She ran her finger through his hair, down his neck, and across his chest. She felt everything with startling clarity. His deep sigh spiraled down into her core, in resonance with her heart. The sharp scent of pine and sweat mingled with the ever-present crispness ofhim. He tasted of over-malted ale. His warmth countered the coolness that coated her skin. She was overcome by the experience of him, and she never wanted it to end.
The sudden clearing of a throat scratched jaggedly through Evylin’s magic-heightened ears. She stilled at the shocking realization that Ethenn, Auden, and half a dozen dead men were in the room with them. A wave of embarrassment slammed into her, dousing her in reality.
Evylin jerked back, shoving Deckard away. They both gasped for air as their eyes locked in startled wonder. She’d expected to see the presence of the Mage still, but his eyes had returned to their usual, subdued green-blue. His expression had softened, the fierceness replaced with gentleness. The purple-black shadows had faded entirely. He’d returned to the Deckard she’d met in Whickam Village, the charming, harmless man she’d married.
“Colonel,” Ethenn muttered awkwardly, “we should go.”
Deckard hadn’t yet looked away from Evylin as though surprised to find her there. His lips remained parted, his chest still heaving for breath. The pinch appeared between his brows. “Yes,” he said, then swallowed. “Yes, I know.”
