But she couldn’t think when he was touching her. He short-circuited her brain cells.
Needing some distance, she slid off the stool and hurried toward the door. JB jogged alongside her, growling his demon cat growl. She knew Aidan followed, even though he moved silently.
Maybe it was Chad or Stacey. Oh jeez, not Stacey because she’d have Justin with her. Maybe it was Mom! Mom would be excellent. She would start charming Aidan, and Lyssa could sneak upstairs and figure out how the hell her life kept getting worse.
Relieved at the prospect of a moment alone, she opened the door without looking out the peephole. She remembered it only as the door swung inward…
…and her wide eyes caught the sword swinging downward.
Chapter 12
It was JB’s arching spine and bristling hair that alerted Aidan to the danger. The cat was too inherently lazy to do more than growl to intimidate guests. So when JB hissed like a banshee, Aidan’s senses went on high alert. As the door swung open, he caught Lyssa around the waist and yanked her back…
…just in time to miss the downward swing of a sword.
The marble that lined the entryway cracked under the force of the glaive.
“Chad?” Lyssa screeched, limbs flailing. “What the fuck are you doing? You almost killed me!”
A quick glance at the familiar man lunging through the doorway made Aidan’s blood run cold. He set Lyssa on her feet and shoved her toward the stairs. “That’s not Chad. Go!”
Aidan leaped back several paces to avoid a gutting by the thrusting weapon aimed at his abdomen. With his heart in his throat over what had nearly happened to Lyssa, he risked a glance in her direction. She stood frozen. Shock compounded by more shock.
“Run, damn it!” He landed a brutal kick with his bare heel to Chad’s knee, bringing the other man to the ground.
“I’m calling the cops!” she cried, sprinting up the stairs. “You’re both insane!”
“No!” He jumped, and Chad’s glaive whistled through the air beneath him, the strike aimed to cut him off at the knees. Literally. “Don’t call anyone!”
Aidan was grateful for the loose-fitting pajama bottoms he wore. They allowed him similar freedom of movement as his battle dress. Chad, however, was dressed in jeans, and the heavy, unyielding material slowed him just enough to slightly mitigate the effect the Elders had on him. Seeing Chad’s blank stare and lack of any facial expression at all, Aidan was certain he was dealing with a sleepwalker.
Determined to keep Lyssa safe, he led Chad away from the staircase and into the living room. His sword was located there, waiting near the entertainment center. As Aidan moved to the right, then feinted to the left, Chad pulled his arm back and made a wild swing. With a rapid spin on his heel, Aidan caught up his glaive, and before he’d completed the rotation, he had yanked it free of its scabbard and blocked the next incoming blow.
The clash of metal upon metal focused him. It was a sound he’d heard almost as much as he heard his own breathing. The familiar feel of the hilt in his palm and the weight of his weapon centered him. It was comforting in a way only others who lived by the sword would know.
Everything else fell away.
He thrust and parried with singular expertise, recognizing the skill of a Master in his opponent. Which one? Who would come for them like this? Was it Lyssa they wanted, or he? Perhaps both?
Disadvantaged by the fact that he could not kill Chad, Aidan was forced to take a defensive position, a stance he hated and was relatively unfamiliar with. Still, he managed, aware that he could fight for days like this, switching his glaive from one hand to the other when his arm fatigued. Chad was fit, but lacked the stamina and finely honed muscles Aidan had cultivated over centuries. Despite the battle knowledge imparted by the Master who controlled him, Chad’s physical form could not be enhanced.
The engagement continued. They were trapped in the small area of the living room and adjoining dining room. Stumbling around furniture, Aidan cursed as he bumped the bookcase.
“Would you fucking wake up already?” he yelled at Chad.
But there was nothing Aidan could say, no cajoling or threats that would shake his opponent’s position, no sound or facial expression he could make that would inspire fear. Chad was asleep and incapable of being reasoned with, incapable of speech. Sweat poured down the other man’s face, dripping from his lashes into his eyes, but he wasn’t capable of feeling it.
Aidan kept a running tally of Chad’s weaknesses, cataloging them in his mind for use, if necessary. The instant Chad began to move sluggishly and breathe laboriously, Aidan seized the moment.