Which meant when the time was right, she was able to reach between them, grab his balls, and twist them so hard, if it hadn't been for his pants, she'd have broken the fuckers off.
Lash wheezed out a curse and went rigid, proving that he might have been a demigod on the dark side, but he was pretty fucking mortal when it came to taking a hit in the jewels.
Now she was the one in control of the ground game, spinning him over onto his back and straddling him. "Got you," she snapped at him.
As she held him down, rage got the better of her--instead of stabbing him outright, she gripped him around the neck and squeezed the air out of his throat.
"You don't fuck with what's mine," she growled at him.
Lash's ugly-ass puss went vicious pissed and somehow his voice emanated up even with the lock she had on his larynx. "He's already been fucked good. Or didn't he tell you about that human who--"
Xhex cuffed the SOB so hard, she took a tooth with her on the follow- through. "Don't you dare go there--"
"I'll go anywhere the fuck I want, sweetheart. "
With that, he ghosted on her, dissolving into nothing--but that didn't last. An instant later, she was taken from behind, grabbed, and pulled up hard against his body. In the still seconds that followed, she had a brief impression of the humans who were moaning on the asphalt, and then she was swung around and used as a shield as she and Lash faced the Brothers.
Her eyes didn't waste time checking her team's positions behind the Mercedes or measuring what weapons were pointed in her and Lash's direction.
John was the only thing that mattered.
And thank God, the Scribe Virgin. . . or whoever granted mercies. . . that he was sitting up and shaking off whatever strobe-light nightmare had ass-over-elbowed him.
At least he was alive.
She was probably not going to survive this, but John. . . he was going to live. Provided she got herself and Lash out of here.
"Take me," she hissed to the bastard. "Just take me and leave them. "
There was a whisper of metal against metal and then a switchblade appeared in front of her face, the blade flashing right next to her eye--so close, she could make out the inscription of the manufacturer's name.
"You like to get real personal with your kills. " Lash's voice was so not right, the distortion in it making his words ripple in her ear. "I know this because of what you did to that fool Grady. Gave him one hell of a last meal--wonder if he liked sausage in life as much as he did in death?"
The point of the weapon dipped out of her visual field. . . and then she felt the tip go into her cheekbone and drag slowly downward.
The breeze was cool. Her blood was warm.
Closing her eyes, all she could do was repeat, "Take me. "
"Oh, I will. Don't you worry about that. " Something wet drew up over the wound--his tongue lapping at what had welled up. Then he called out, "She tastes as good as I remember--Stop right there. Anyone takes another step forward, and I'll slice her where it counts. "
The blade went to her throat and Lash started walking backward, dragging her with him. On instinct, she tried to get inside his head in the event her symphath side could influence him, but she was blocked sure as if she were in front of a stone wall. Not a surprise.
Abruptly, she wondered why he didn't cloak them both--
He was limping. He'd taken a bullet somewhere--and now that she was properly focused, she could smell his blood, and see it glistening on the pavement.
As Lash kept going, those sorry-ass humans came into sight again, and they looked like corpses, all pale and stiff to the point where she was amazed they could make any noises at all. Their car, she thought. Lash was going to try to take the two of them back to whatever ride those boys had come in. And although he was compromised on some levels, his grip on her was viciously strong, and that knife? Steady and ready.
Xhex stared down at John and knew she would remember the magnificent sight of his warrior's vengeance forever--
She frowned as she sensed his emotions. How. . . strange. That shadow she had always sensed in the lee of his grid wasn't a mere second- stringer anymore--it
was as tangible and vivid as that which had always been the primary construct within his psyche.
In fact, as he stared up the alley, the two parts of him. . . became one.
After John had been hit with that bomb of energy, he was dazed and disoriented, but he forced his head to get back in the game and somehow managed to heave himself off the ground. He couldn't feel some portion of his body, and the other half that wasn't numb screamed in pain, but neither mattered. Deadly purpose animated him, replacing the beat of his heart as the driver of his physical form.