"Sorry," I muttered, "but I don't talk very well under duress."
I lashed back with a foot, but he jumped out of the way, his grip tightening against my neck and just about choking me.
"Nasty, nasty," he whispered, his breath putrid as his lips brushed my neck. "For that, I might just have to provide a little taste of what happens to naughty little girls who attempt to castrate their betters."
"As interesting as that sounds," a deep, somewhat amused voice said behind us, "from where I'm standing, her neck actually looks rather fine just as it is. It would be a shame to mar it, don't you think?"
The dog shifter spun, dragging me around with him, his chunky gold watchband tearing into my neck. The man who'd spoken was tall, broad-shouldered, and golden-haired. And his face … well, beautiful was the only way to describe it. Angels would surely have wept to achieve the same sort of perfection.
And that's very much what he was—an angel.
Or at least he was the flesh-and-blood counterpart of a myth that ran through time and religion.
He was Aedh.
With that face, and with eyes such a vivid jade green and so filled with power it was almost impossible to stare at them without wincing, he could be nothing else.
Jade eyes, I thought. Not lilac like mine. Not my father.
He could also handle himself. The lion shifter was lying at his feet, his neck twisted at an odd angle. Such casual destruction sent a chill through my soul, but then, if this man was full Aedh, he probably didn't hold human—or nonhuman—life with any sort of regard.
Not that these two deserved anyone's regard.
"Who the fuck are you?" the dog shifter spat.
"I'm the man who's going to kick your ass if you don't release the lovely lady's neck."
His grip tightened, his watch cutting deeper into my skin. Blood began to trickle down my neck, and if I'd had the breath to curse, I would have.