Broken Dove (Fantasyland #4)(67)

I just hopped he was really good at it.

I hit the outer room and was thrilled beyond anything he was still holding his own.

But his attention was kind of taken.

Crap.

There was nothing for it.

I had to create an opening.

I grabbed the handle of the saber in both hands, shifted it so the flat was what sang through the air and did what Apollo did with Pol.

I smacked one of the bad guys upside the head with it.

Hard.

He staggered to the side.

Me entering the fray caused a diversion that Apollo took advantage of because it surprised the men, but not him.

He didn’t miss a beat, shoved one of his knives in his belt, held a hand toward me and shouted, “Saber!”

God, I hoped he was as good as those guys in the movies.

I tossed it to him point up.

He caught it by the handle in one hand, whirled, and with a mid-body slice, gutted one of the bad dudes.

Holy crap!

When the guy’s innards became outtards, I felt my eyes go huge as bile shot up my throat and I staggered back.

But Apollo barked, “Maddie, bloody go!”

The one Apollo sliced was down on his back and I was thinking it was a good guess he was continuing the swordfight on some celestial plain. However, the one I’d conked was reentering the action and Apollo again had his hands full.

Two against one. Still no fair.

I focused and not on my wave of nausea. Instead, on a lamp on a table close by. I grabbed it and lifted it over my head. Shuffling this way and that around the battle, I tried to get my opening to smash it on one of the bad dudes’ heads.

“Maddie, what did I say?” Apollo thundered, still clashing steel.

I ignored him because there it was.

My shot.

Crash!

I landed the glass lantern hard on the guy’s head and he went down instantly, out like a light.

I turned to Apollo just in time to watch him make light work of the last one. That was, he disarmed him of his sword with a whirling flourish that actually pulled the sword from the guy’s hand but kept control of it with the tip of his saber whereupon Apollo could twirl it aside, far out of reach.

Oh yeah. He was good at this sword shit.

Alas, as this was happening, Apollo was momentarily engaged in doing it, so the guy went for the knife on his belt.

Before I could cry out a warning, Apollo came back and carved his saber through the side of the guy’s neck.

A sickening spray of blood spurted.

I gasped and took a step back.

The guy lifted a hand to his neck, his eyes slid to Apollo and then he fell down on his knees right before he crashed to his front.

Okay, well.

I was thinking he, too, was a goner.

Holy cow.

I stared at the bodies and blood littering our little sitting room and I did this for a millisecond before Apollo roared, “When I tell you to run, you bloody do what I say!”

I looked to him to see his eyes were burning and not in a good way. Not that there was anyone left to talk to that wasn’t dead or unconscious but still, those burning eyes were locked on me.

“I—” I started.

He began to move my way and cut me off.

“Did it occur to you that if you’d run, you could have called for assistance?”

He stopped in front of me so close my head was tipped all the way back to keep hold of his gaze.

And seriously, our date—which included its shaky start, sure, but it also included great champagne, delicious food and Apollo and I eventually chatting and laughing, another fab horse ride back with Apollo, a brilliant kiss and the promise of an orgasm (or more than one since he’d said we’d be doing it repeatedly)—but it ended in death and destruction and him shouting at me and being sarcastic—I don’t think anyone would blame me that his words pissed me off.

“Did it occur to you that, seeing as I didn’t run, I was your assistance?” I shot back.

His mouth clamped shut and a muscle ticked up his jaw and into his cheek.

I took that as “no.” I also decided to take it as “thank you for helping me defeat the bad guys” when he jerked away from me and stormed into the bedroom.

I decided the bedroom was a much better place to be than amongst the grisly mess in the sitting room, so I followed him.

When I did, I saw he was tugging on a velvet cord with a thick tassel at the end and he didn’t do it once. I counted eleven times before he scowled at me and stormed back into the sitting room.

I really didn’t want to go back there, but after what happened, I also really didn’t want to be far away from Apollo and his sword. So I followed him back to see him bent over one of the guys, the unconscious one, his fist in the guy’s hair holding his head up.

“Unconscious,” he clipped. “Useless,” he ground out as he threw the guy’s head back and it thumped against the floor.

I put a hand to my belly, the gruesome tableau hitting me full on as Apollo stormed to one of the two dead bodies. He bent and started to go through the man’s pockets.

“What are you doing?” I asked, deciding on focusing on him so I didn’t focus on anything that might make me hurl.

His gaze cut to me and he didn’t answer my question.

No.

Instead he declared, “Four men in this room. Four weapons. And you.”