Crimson Warrior (Onyx Assassins 3)

“Guns are efficient,” one of the fresh guards argued, tying his blond hair into a knot from the edge of the ring.

“They are,” I agreed, resting the bo staff on my shoulders. “And they have their place. But once you’re out of ammunition, what’s your plan? Throw your Sig at your enemy?” I lifted a brow.

“I won’t have to.” He shrugged. “He’ll be dead. I don’t miss.”

An appreciative mumble of agreement sounded from the group below as the four guards in the ring exchanged glances that I’d be a fool not to notice. They might be the duke’s best, but they weren’t assassins, and they sure as fuck weren’t me.

“Spoken like someone who’s only ever faced less opponents than bullets in his magazine.” My smile wasn’t kind. “Must be nice to be so sheltered out here on this little island.” They lived in a protected little utopia and didn’t even know it. Was this place a misogynistic anachronism? Absolutely. But they weren’t getting shot at by the Sons of Honor on a nightly basis, either.

The guy on the left—the smaller one with the swirling tats creeping up his arms—lunged toward me, swinging his staff at my head.

Here we go.

I waited precious milliseconds until I heard the whip of the staff near my ear, then spun a quarter-turn, bringing my own up off my shoulders to block his attempt. The wood collided with a cracking sound, and I threw him off balance with my counterattack, swinging my staff at his most exposed point—his neck. I let the staff rest against his skin and tilted my head at him.

The two behind me rushed, the sound of their movement reaching me in time to whip my body toward them. One swung his staff at my chest while the other aimed at my feet.

I knocked the first staff out of the guard’s hands while mid-air, avoiding the other’s strike, then landed my own blow to the guard’s knees, sweeping his feet out from under him. He landed on the mat with a ring-shaking thud.

Someone walking across the floor caught my eye. Olivia. She was dressed for a workout, and by that sheen of sweat, I guessed she’d just come from a run. My blood heated in a rush, my instincts demanding I defend this female from any threat—to include the ones in this ring.

Not threats. Students. I sucked in a breath and some common sense as she stopped at the edge of the ring, shoulder to shoulder with the other guards.

“You continue to make the same mistake over and over,” I lectured as the arrogant, bearded guard came at me. I met each of his assaults with one of my own, playing with him without taking him out. “Stop going for the obvious kill. Watch for weakness so you can exploit it.”

Another came at me from behind, and I quickly changed positions to ward off both attacks at once. Their attempt to overpower me was cute but fruitless. I had them both on their asses in a matter of seconds.

“That’s my male.” The sound of Olivia’s throaty chuckle went straight to my dick, and I winked at her as all four rushed me again.

It took me a couple of minutes, but all three ended up on their backs, and I sent the last one over the ropes to land outside the ring.

“You have to learn to use what’s at hand—”

The bearded one jumped to his feet, drawing a handgun from the holster he’d hidden in the back of his pants and pointing it at my face as he walked forward. “I had it at hand.” He shrugged, only a matter of inches from my face.

Olivia gasped.

My reflexes kicked into action, and I crossed my hands in front of him, knocking his hand away with one arm and disarming him with the other. I flipped the weapon in my hand—a Sig Sauer, go figure—and emptied the magazine, then cleared the chamber before pointing it back at the bearded guard who had gone paler than the floor beneath us. “You were saying?”

He blinked once. Twice. Then he bowed his head. “Thank you for the lesson.”

I nodded and handed his weapon back. “Relying on your expertise with one weapon is dangerous, and it will get you killed if the war we’re fighting comes to this island.” If it wasn’t already here. “I’ll be training every evening this week—before the nightly festivities, of course—for anyone who wants to work on their technique while I’m here.” Then I dismissed them.

“You have a strong mate,” the blond said to Olivia as he climbed down from the ring.

“The strongest,” she answered with a smile that set my blood on fire. Every little thing the woman did was a turn-on lately.

“Olivia could have disarmed him faster than I did, if she’d wanted to.” The compliment was out of my mouth before I could stop it. Fuck.