“But?” It would be stupid not to take advice from probably the world’s foremost authority on edged weapons.
He ran his gaze over the wall and plucked a knife from the center of the collection. “This one.” The handle and blade were both dark and wouldn’t reflect light, at least not easily. From a few steps away, she sensed the pulse of power coming from it. The blade reminded her of Maccus—dangerous, dark, and deadly.
He flipped it into the air and caught it by the blade and held the handle toward her. “Try it.”
Lips dry, heart racing, she stretched out her hand. The handle slid into her palm as though it had been made for it. She curled her fingers around it and twisted her wrist in a few experimental moves. The weight was perfect, but that wasn’t a surprise considering who owned it.
“What are these?” There were symbols she recognized, ones that would weaken demons, but there were more that were unfamiliar.
“If you have to stab an angel, it will hurt more.”
She studied them, trying to memorize the markings so she could add them to her blade. Couldn’t hurt. With great reluctance, she flipped the knife and caught it as he had then held the handle out to him. “It’s spectacular. Thank you for showing it to me.” He didn’t share this room with many people, if anyone. It was stupid to get a warm feeling in her chest because he’d opened up enough to show her this private space.
He almost cut my throat.
But not really. If he’d wanted her dead, she’d be dead. No, he’d been out of sorts for inviting her into his private domain and at her for being here.
She got that. She didn’t want anyone in her personal stuff or space. How much worse was it for him considering how long he’d lived and what he’d been through?
He went to the far wall and pulled out a drawer. There were cabinets built into the wall that were flush with it. There were no handles that she could see. There had to be some mechanism he pushed to make it work. Very clever.
After sorting through several leather knife holders, he chose one and returned to her side. Without a word, he fitted it over her left forearm, strapping it around her wrist and just below her elbow. His fingers were strong and competent, callused and tanned. They were able to wield weapons with extreme skill. They were also able to bring great pleasure.
He gave the strap an experimental tug. When he was satisfied, he took the blade from her and slipped it inside.
Stunned, all she could do was watch in wonder. Finally, she found her tongue. “What are you doing?”
“We’ll be fighting angels and demons. You need a weapon that can give you a shot at staying alive.”
She swallowed heavily, words catching in her throat before she managed to dislodge them. “Thank you.”
His expression darkened, and a muscle under his eyes twitched. “You should never have been drawn into this.”
While she agreed, there was no getting past the truth. “I put myself here by taking Kayley’s place.” And even though it might have been a mistake, she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t make the same decision again, even knowing she might have been lied to.
Then there was Maccus. So much in her life had been terrifying, dark, and the stuff of nightmares this past decade. Maccus was all those things and more, but he’d brought a tiny ray of light and hope to her life, reminded her of things she’d forgotten.
And while getting out of this situation alive wasn’t likely, she’d go down fighting, for herself and for him, because they had that in common. No one had ever fought for them, with them.
Those days were over.
She traced the supple leather covering the blade before pulling the knife. It came easily and without the slightest hesitation. She returned it and moved her arm several times. It wouldn’t impede her in a fight and would be damn handy to have.