as hard as she could as the second attacker reached her. He swiped the unsatisfactory weapon out of her hand, and the metal clanged off the wood floor, rolling beneath the sofa. His prodigious gloved hand clamped over her entire shoulder, and he hauled her toward him. Pain rippled up her neck from his fingers.
The sound of fighting came from Ivar at the window and from an altercation in the hallway outside, but she kept her focus on the guy bruising her clavicle with just his hold.
Her breath panted out, and her lungs seized. The room narrowed in focus, and all sound dissipated while adrenaline flooded her entire system. She grabbed the nearest sofa cushion and pivoted, hitting him in the face with the decorating tassels, aiming for his eyes.
He growled and twisted his head, his hold tightening so painfully her stomach cramped.
Then he was jerked away from her as Ivar threw him toward the broken window.
She stumbled back, dropping the pillow, hyperventilating.
Ivar punched the guy in the neck, and he turned, already swinging. His fist impacted with Ivar’s cheek, and the bone crunched loudly.
Promise gasped and looked for the other soldier, who was down on his stomach near the window, surrounded by broken glass, not moving. His head was under the drape, and blood flowed from his neck area.
Tears filled her eyes, and she blinked them away, struggling to breathe. She spotted the edge of Ivar’s green gun over by the door to the kitchen. While the two men traded nauseating-sounding blows, she ran for the gun and picked it up, stumbling back over the rain-soaked floors to point it at the men. Then she paused, her mind scrambling to catch up.
They hit and kicked so rapidly, their movements were mere blurs of movement and sound. How was that possible? Shock took her, and even the sounds tunneled into a faint buzz. She wavered, her legs shaking so hard her left knee hurt.
The other soldier punched Ivar in the stomach and then howled, pain etching his face as he drew back his hand, which showed several broken fingers.
Promise hesitated, her mind reeling. Was Ivar wearing some sort of protective gear? She couldn’t see it beneath his tight T-shirt. She pointed the gun again, moving around the sofa, her hands shaking so much her finger slipped off the trigger. She lifted her other hand, steadying her aim, but her shoulders trembled, and the barrel of the gun jumped from point to point.
The soldier kicked Ivar beneath the chin, and his head went back. With a furious growl, he ducked and punched the other man in the jaw, following up with a series of hits so quick they had landed and bounced off before the sound was even audible. Then he kicked the soldier in the knee, knocking him to the ground.
Promise edged to the side, trying to aim the gun at the white-faced attacker.
Ivar grabbed the guy’s long braid and jerked his hair back, quickly striking his mouth at the guy’s neck and pulling. Blood, tissue, and cartilage flew around as Ivar lifted his head, having torn out the soldier’s neck.
With. His. Teeth.
Ivar turned toward her as he let the corpse drop to the glass on the ground. Fangs hung out of his mouth, their sharp points glistening with blood. His eyes had turned a shade of intense green beyond normal emerald. Nearly translucent, heavily metallic, they glowed with a deep blue border around the iris.
Her mouth opened and closed. The smell of rain, blood, and death filled her nostrils, and she hitched away from him, swinging the gun barrel toward his head.
This was not happening. It was a nightmare. She could not be awake.
He straightened to his full height, and his fangs retracted. Blood still bracketed his full mouth and discolored his already multicolored hair. He studied her, no human recognition in his feral eyes. “Gun, down.” His voice was a brutal rasp.
Her hands convulsed around the butt of the gun. She slid her finger closer to the trigger. “You’re not human,” she whispered, her throat feeling like it was on fire.
“Not even close.” He reached down and secured a firearm and two knives from the corpse, sliding them into the back of his jeans.
The door burst open behind Promise, and she yelped, accidentally pulling the trigger. A dark green laser shot out of the gun, hitting Ivar square in the chest and turning instantly into round, bullet-shaped pieces of metal. They dropped harmlessly to the floor, bouncing around