of them. Shit. Shit! He'd been in worse situations, but he would have preferred his gun.
As he crouched there, deciding the best way to attack, all of his sexual lust mutated into simple bloodlust. He went from white-hot to ice-cold in seconds. His mind shut down, focusing only on war and death. The thick metallic stench of Formorian blood enveloped him.
One, he mentally counted. Two. Three.
War cry blaring from him, Gray sprang from his position and attacked the nearest creature, determined tofight it the same way he'd fought the demons. He might not know these creatures' weaknesses but nothing could survive a slit throat.
Because of the element of surprise, he was able to grab the first one-armed, one-legged beast from behind. The creature jerked, hard, and Gray felt the wound in his thigh tear. Determinedly he gave a quick slash of his blade. The creature went limp and dropped his club, falling to the ground, thick black blood seeping from his twitching body.
One down, four more to go.
By the time Gray had turned around, two other creatures were flying toward him, fury darkening their ugly features. Seconds before they reached him, he ducked low and grabbed both of them by their ankle. They pulled and struggled against his hold, but he pivoted, slashed up with his feet, using the creatures' elevated height to anchor him as he kicked them senseless.
Both dropped to the ground, gasping for breath, and he cut both their necks at the same time. The leader screeched an unholy sound that rocked the walls.
"Come and get me," he spat.
Club raised, the Formorian stalked toward him. Gray's lips were curling into a slow smile - until he saw Jewel race from behind the screen. His grin died as a sense of rage and helplessness sprouted inside him. She'd haphazardly wrapped her robe around her body and it billowed at her ankles, flapping with her movements. She had her blade raised, ready to battle.
Her name was poised at the edge of his lips, ready to scream it out and command her to hide, to return behind the screen. But he didn't want to draw any attention to her. He didn't mind dying himself, but he'd be damned if he'd let Jewel receive even the smallest scratch.
A Formorian sensed her presence and turned around, club raised. The leader was still flying toward Gray, Jewel was still racing toward the other. Gray started running, too, and when he was almost upon the leader, he jumped up and slammed his feet into the bastard's chest, shooting him backward.
Gray didn't slow, but the world seemed to slow around him. An agonizing slowness with a reality that there was only one thing he could do sinking into him. And if he failed, if he missed... Jewel would be dead. He kept moving, sprinting toward her and the final combatant.
The two were almost upon each other. Jewel's attacker was reaching back with his club just as Gray drew back his arm to throw his knife.
He was suddenly grabbed from behind with a single hand. Sharp nails dug into his shoulder, tugging him backward. Gray's blade flew out of his hand, but missed its intended target completely. As he fell, he watched through horrified eyes as Jewel slammed into the other beast. Her knife was raised, ready to strike, but the bastard beat her to it.
His club pounded into her upper arm.
Gray hit the ground, howling in fury, a red haze of rage beating inside him. The leader jumped on top of him, and he rolled over, not thinking about his next actions. He simply opened his mouth and sank his teeth into the Formorian's neck, thick blood sliding down his throat, burning the pit of his stomach. The creature howled and jerked against him, but Gray kept a steady jaw lock, draining the bastard dry.
When he finished, he tossed the lifeless creature aside and sprang to his feet. Warm drops of blood trickled down his mouth, off his chin. He wiped them away. The remaining Formorian had an
unconscious Jewel by the hair and was dragging her out of the room. Her blood left a crimson trail behind
her. Gray's heart stopped beating and he snarled, the sound raw and animalistic.
He sprinted after them, swooping down and grabbing one of the abandoned clubs as he ran. He hefted its weight in his hand. With a war cry, he raised up his arm and struck, slamming the spiked tip into the back of the creature's head, putting all