sword belt and struck. Right where Aedion’s
armor exposed just a sliver near his armpit,
vulnerable with the outstretched position of
his arm.
The knife plunged in, rending flesh and
muscle and bone.
Pain, white-hot and blinding, threatened to
make him splay his hand, to drop his sword.
Only Aedion’s training, only those years of
work, kept his feet under him as he leaped
back, wrenching free of the knife.
The Valg prince chuckled, and Aedion was
dimly aware of the fighting along the walls,
the shouting and dying and flares of fire, as
the prince smiled down at the bloodied
dagger.
Bringing it to his sensual mouth, the prince
dragged his tongue along the blade. Licked
Aedion’s blood clean off. “Exquisite,” the
demon breathed, shuddering with pleasure.
lily
(lily)
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