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It infuriates me, and I rush toward the man. Springing off my left foot, I launch my snap kick, making a solid connection with the ball of my foot to the corner of his left jaw. It’s hard and painful enough that the man bellows in pain as he falls sideways off the woman, and I immediately reach to pull her to her feet. At that moment, I see how incredibly beautiful she is with dark hair, emerald-green eyes, and an almost perfectly formed face. Her clothes are designer, though now covered in filth. I wonder how she even came to be down this alley.

“Run,” I say as the man I’d kicked gets to his feet, rubbing at his jaw with fury blazing in his eyes as he faces me. I take in the torn and ratty clothing, dirt on his face, and I’m sure if I got a bit closer, he’d smell like he hadn’t bathed in weeks. Clearly homeless, which is a bit confusing. While they can resort to violence, it’s usually to rob people of money, not rape, and I’m pretty sure that was his intent.

The woman stands frozen, not heeding my advice. I can’t worry about her now, though, as I get in my fighting stance—left foot forward, right back, spaced apart for stability and in a slight crouch. Both my hands are formed into fists and up for protection in front of my face.

“You’re going to regret that, bitch,” the man snarls, starting to advance on me, his arms down at his sides. He’s left his entire torso, neck, and head open. I could do any number of things, like jump front kick into that pillowy-looking gut, a back fist across the bridge of his nose, or even a Thai kick to the back of his knee to take him down, where I can finish him off with a knee to his chin.

But I’m not going to do any of that, because the best move Duane ever taught me—one of the first—is to first kick the shit out of a guy’s nuts if the chance presents itself, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

The man takes a step, then another, before he suddenly freezes. His gaze moves past my shoulder to something behind me, causing the hairs on the nape of my neck to stand on end. I don’t know what’s there, but whatever it is, it causes the man to start retreating.

Stumbling backward several steps, he then pivots on his heel and takes off running.

Ordinarily, I would possibly think it was a cop who had heard the commotion and came to check out what was going on, but now that I know dark and evil creatures exist in the world, I whirl fast to see what’s behind me, prepared to attack if necessary.

But there stands Carrick Byrne, glowering down at me. “I can’t believe you were stupid enough to come down here.”

“Can’t believe you were stupid enough to think I’d blindly follow you away from this,” I retort, dropping my hands. I throw a thumb over my shoulder in the direction the man had just retreated. “But thanks for scaring him off. He was…” My eyes dart over to the woman staring at me. Knowing I can’t say anything otherworldly, I just stick with, “Pretty dark, if you get my drift.”

Carrick’s gaze slides past me toward where the man retreated, and I can tell by his expression he has no intention of running him down. Not that I expected him to. We averted a rape, so we should probably call the police to take over.

Carrick then swivels to survey the woman, who stares back at Carrick with genuine interest. She sizes him up and down, and I think that’s wholly odd for someone who was almost just violated.

Moving so fast I barely have time to comprehend what’s happening, Carrick flies at the woman and grabs her by the throat. He slams her into the brick alley wall, and her head cracks against it so hard that it has to be fractured.

“Carrick,” I shriek in surprise, lunging at him with the intent to pull him away from the woman.

Instead, I’m frozen solid when the woman does nothing but laugh at Carrick, a husky, sexual sound full of promise. She’s clearly not even hurt by Carrick slamming her into the wall.

She spares me a glance before turning her sultry gaze back on the man holding her by her throat. “Why don’t you get rid of the little do-gooder, and you and I can have some serious fun?”

She runs her tongue over her lower lip. In confusion, I start to reel backward.

“What’s going on?” I mutter, glancing back in the direction the woman’s would-be rapist just ran.

And then that’s when I notice something. The dark vibe isn’t gone, and it should be when the man—who I assumed was the Dark Fae—took off. Instead, the feeling is still there, stronger than it was before.


Tags: Sawyer Bennett Chronicles of the Stone Veil Fantasy