One of Jaydon’s white eyebrow rose. “No, but I’m more than willing to have their blood on your hands.” If anything, the bastard looked pleased by the idea. “Those kids have been in the way ever since they learned to fight.”
Definite break in the Kurjan world right now. Sam would think about that later. Right now, all that mattered was Honor. He drew out a long blade from the sheath at his calf. “Stop hiding behind a female, General. I’ve already had the energy kicked out of me by your leader and probably can’t put up much of a fight. You shouldn’t be so scared.”
Jaydon straightened, lifting Honor higher, taking her head back. “You met with Ulric?”
“Oh yeah,” Sam said softly. “I gotta tell you, he is not happy about your plans.”
Jaydon paused, and it was all the opening Sam needed. He jumped forward, knife already flashing.
* * * *
A knife sliced the air next to her ear and cut right into the general’s neck. Blood poured from him, coating her skin and burning deep. She screamed, struggling against him.
Sam struck again, this time for the general’s eye.
The bastard dropped Honor, and she landed on both feet, pain rippling up her vertebrae to land at the base of her neck. Gasping, wiping frantically at her burning jaw, she backed away from the two of them. Tears filled her eyes and flowed down her face; she batted them away, burning her cheeks with the blood on her hands. Her butt hit the wall, and she partially bent over, trying to catch her breath but still watching the battling immortals.
The general slammed one huge fist down on Sam’s shoulder, sending him to the ground. Sam hit with one knee, denting the old wooden floor. Without a pause, he bounced up, his other foot nailing Jaydon beneath the jaw and throwing him into the opposite wall.
Sam moved so fast she could hardly follow him. His blade was brutal, slashing Jaydon from neck to groin and back.
She’d seen him fight coldly before, but this was different. Heated and intense. The marking on her hip burned hot and dug deep, warming her entire body. The pain on her face slowly receded. She wiped her bloody hands on the flimsy white gown, looking down the hallway for any sort of weapon. There was nothing.
Jaydon performed a roundhouse kick, hitting Sam in the stomach and sending him careening into the wall. The plaster shattered, raining down and all around. The general drew a knife from his back and advanced. “I am so going to enjoy this, Keeper.”
Honor lowered her head and shot every bad thought she could into his brain.
He instantly slammed it down, and she winced, pain detonating behind her eyes. She clapped both hands to her temples and went down, her butt to the ground, spiraling away to a place of no pain.
A series of grunts brought her back to the present.
She lifted her head wearily, her entire body aching.
Jaydon punched Sam repeatedly, from his head to his torso and back to his head. Sam fought back, his movements slowing. He hadn’t even completely healed yet from the battle with Ulric. She fought to stand, made it to her knees, and fell sideways.
Jaydon laughed, the sound booming through the hallway. “I’m going to enjoy killing you, Keeper. Then I’m going to have all sorts of fun with your female—even if she is mated. I might have to get my hands on that virus.”
Sam paused. The atmosphere heated and pulsed. Then, to put it simply, he went demonic. Fast and furious, as if controlled by a base nature she hadn’t recognized, he stabbed the general in a whirlwind of rapid movements. Gut, chest, arms, hips, and face.
Honor’s mouth gaped open.
Sam didn’t pause. He plunged the blade deep into Jaydon’s eye, taking him down to the ground. Then he lifted his arm and stabbed hard and fast to the Cyst leader’s neck. Blood blew across the hallway to coat both walls. “Look away, Honor. Right now,” he growled, the sound so guttural it was difficult to make out the words.
She couldn’t move, her gaze locked on him and her body frozen in place.
Sam freed the knife and plunged the wicked blade in several times. The general bellowed and scrambled for the blade, but his hands were covered in blood and it slid away. Sam stabbed him again, and the knife made a terrifying clunking sound when it pierced the wooden floor beneath.
Then Sam went cold. The air even chilled. He lifted the knife and edged it in sideways, twisting and turning, pulling and plunging.
Grunting, his hands coated with blood, he sawed until the general’s head was severed from his body. Jaydon’s eyes widened, and blood bubbled from his mouth.
Sam staggered to his feet, slid back a leg, and then kicked the general’s jaw with a force that sounded like an airplane crash. The head flew away from the body, rolling end over end, bumping across the wooden floor and leaving a wide swath of pure red blood. It came to a rest with the purple eyes wide and staring down the hallway.
Honor gagged.
Sam turned and moved toward her, grasping her arm and helping her off the floor.
Her knees gave out.
He lifted her against his solid chest and strode away from the body. “Good job with the ritual,” he murmured, his steps sure even as blood spurted from his ear, neck, and forehead.
“Put me down. You’re hurt,” she said, not sure she could stand. She looked over his shoulder at the prone body of Jaydon. “Sam. What was that?” She sounded lost, and she cleared her throat to get control over herself. Even so, her entire body trembled.
Sam pressed her head to his shoulder, holding her tight and making her feel safe. Warm and secure. “He threatened my mate, baby. Sometimes it’s as simple as that.” He walked her out into the storm, and she looked around.
Helicopters had landed; soldiers were rushing around, giving blankets and medical assistance to several of the women. Cyst soldiers were either down or missing, and many of the helicopters that had been there were gone. How many had gotten free?
Two soldiers jogged up, and there was no doubt the one on the left was Sam’s brother.
He shifted her in his arms. “Honor? This is my brother, Zane. Zane? My mate, Honor.”
Zane smiled. His eyes were a darker green than Sam’s. “Welcome to the family.” He tilted his head to the young soldier beside him. “This is Paxton.”
Paxton smiled at her and then looked at Sam. “I’m glad you’re still alive.” Sincerity and power thrummed in the kid’s low tone, as if there had been a doubt on that score.
“Me too.” Sam nodded at his brother. “I’ll call you later. Like tomorrow or the next day. After a nap. A long one.” He headed back toward a silver helicopter where Bear and Garrett waited, both bloody but still standing. “You ready to go home?”
“Yes.” Honor rested her face against his neck, letting him take control. It was, after all, exactly what Sam Kyllwood always did.