The pressure on her neck and head became blinding. The pain caused her to convulse and thrash where she wasn’t pinned beneath the rogue. The hallway dimmed and went dark. There was an unhealthy pop between two of her vertebrae and a grind.
|"Marrin, who looked like |
some kind of Nordic god"
Then, Jenoa, the rogue, screamed.
The unearthly sound pierced her skull.
The pressure on her neck ceased instantly.
Her vision returned. Jenoa reached behind his back with a full two feet of steel straight through his chest. Then he was gone, lifted clean from her body. Del sagged to the floor, her body wracked with pain. She fought through the film of coming unconsciousness to see a sight she wouldn’t soon forget.
The rogue was on the business end of a sword, four or five feet of steel. Marrin, who looked like some kind of Nordic god, held the rogue two feet off the ground. Except for a hotel towel wrapped around his waist, he was completely naked. His golden hair, loose from its usual scrunchy, hung down over his shoulders, bare chest and stomach. Every inch of him was well toned with muscle that Del only now noticed. An overhead light shone down on his hair and skin and gave him a kind of divine glow.
I must be delirious, Del thought. I’m dying. I’m already dead. Marrin never looked so good.