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.
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