Pure Destiny (PureDark Ones #12) - Aja James Page 0,93

than you are.”

Before she could come up with more attributes to convince him of his own greatness (all except the one that their enemies really wanted him for), he said, “If I were the bad guys, I’d totally want to abduct you, Sophie. Cuz you’re real scary when you go all Alien versus Predator.”

“What?” she couldn’t help but sputter.

“You know, when your eyes get all black and demonic and veins branch out all across your skin. And your teeth sharpen, and nails too. I bet you could take down both the Alien and the Predator, and they’re totally badass.”

Wow, she was that grotesque and terrible when the Destroyer overtook her? He was most certainly the only person on earth who saw her inner monster in this positively awe-struck light.

“Language, Benji,” she admonished weakly.

“Wouldn’t it be cool if you could control the monster inside you and fight for the good side?” he continued in an increasingly excited whisper.

“I—”

But before she could complete her thought, familiar, scuffed up bare feet appeared on the low ridge she was crouched behind.

She knew without looking all the way up that it was Dalair, and scrambled to her feet with Benji in tow.

Immediately, she took in every minute change about his person: He was still bare-chested and bare-footed, wearing the loose, drawstring pants from the day before. Except now, two leather straps criss-crossed his chest. He must have acquired one of the enemy’s weapon holsters.

His body bore faint marks from his recently healed wounds, but there were fresh ones as well. Long scratches that looked like slices from swords and knives that were already starting to close, though still bloody. Tears in his trousers from various attacks. Bruises on his arms and torso that likely looked much less severe than they actually were, his Pure healing abilities hard at work to contain the damage.

It only took a second to take all of this in, and in the next second, Dalair was leading the way again, his footsteps swift and silent.

Sophia tried to keep up, holding onto Benji’s hand. The boy had to run a little to match Dalair’s long-legged strides, but he didn’t complain.

As she followed behind Dalair, she noticed the half-moon blades she’d commissioned for him long ago strapped to his back.

You got them back, she communicated to him.

He grunted in his mind. Even telepathically, he was a man of few words.

For some reason, this made her smile.

Isn’t it strange that one of the enemy soldiers had your weapons? She noted.

Someone is helping us, he responded, keeping his brisk pace during their exchange.

A traitor in our enemies’ midst? I thought everyone was mind-controlled.

I was mind-controlled too, he reminded her. But there were moments of lucidity. Even while carrying Medusa’s orders, I could sometimes manipulate them to minimize as much damage as I could.

She clenched her jaw as her eyes roved over the back of him. So many new wounds.

Were there many? How hurt are you?

Doesn’t matter. They’re all dust and ashes now. He didn’t answer her second question.

Before she could persist, he suddenly stopped in a small clearing and looked directly into her eyes.

Brace yourself.

He tossed her a dagger, which she caught reflexively, thanks to a year’s worth of combat training, snatching the hilt out of the air.

Two dozen soldiers are headed our way.

Oh shit.

Unfortunately, she hadn’t been trained to handle those kinds of odds.

*** *** *** ***

Remaining barefoot despite the option of combat boots from all the assassins he’d dusted (literally and figuratively) was a purposeful decision, which Dalair now regretted.

When he was on the attack, sneaking up behind each enemy soldier who had advanced upon their location through the woods from the east, being barefoot aided his stealth. Only a couple of the assassins had noticed his approach before it was too late. But those split seconds of alertness hadn’t saved them in any case.

There was good reason Dalair was Medusa’s chosen general—he strategized and anticipated, his hyper senses in tune with his sharp mind. And that was before she amped up his body with strength and healing abilities even beyond his original Pure One Gifts.

But now, as he engaged the swarm of enemy soldiers coming at them three or four at a time, stealth was the least of his worries. Combat boots would have come in handy when he aimed lethal kicks to their necks and temples, when he tried to break legs, ribs and arms.

At least they weren’t firing guns with killer-bullets, he processed mentally as he flipped an assassin onto