The Hunted (Guild of Assassins Book 1) by Shannan Albright

It’s supposed to. I know it’s supposed to. You are even a lousy druid!”
    Leigh smiled coldly at the woman, and she stopped struggling. And shivered. “I’ll let you in on a little secret, assassin. It doesn't have to.”
    With that, the vines moved over her limbs and stretched her out spread eagle, pulling her off the forest floor and holding her in wait to tear her apart. Satisfied, Leigh turned toward Taren as he fought for both their lives.
    He would not fight this battle alone.

Chapter Thirteen
     
    Taren absorbed the knowledge hidden in the very marrow of his bones. Muscles and flesh responded as if he’d spent his entire life honing the skills of a warrior. He put on a burst of speed he never knew he possessed and countered her flying blade. Gripping her tight, he flicked his wrist and sent her hurtling through the air and crashing into one of the trees lining the clearing.
    With a thought, he healed his body, the cuts closing as he strode toward Beatrice. She shot to her feet and charged him. Her sword raised, she leaped high into the air and twisted her body, slashing across and down.
    He sidestepped her attack easily, her blade meeting only air. Taren was on her the moment her feet touched the ground, putting her on the defense. He pushed her back, giving her no opening to slip through. A look of real fear flashed in her eyes, and she fought his blade, the force of each powerful strike opening her guard up a little more, her sword wobbling enough to show him his strikes were successful in weakening her.
    Releasing a guttural snarl, he pushed his way past her defense, slicing into the soft flesh at her side. She jerked away before he could score her again, stumbling to keep her balance as red stained her shirt. The sound of his weapon whistled as it cut through the air, finding a target again and again, just as she had done to him, leaving her tunic and pants torn and bloody.
    Again, Taren pushed her back with a subtle movement of his hand, and she stumbled back, landing on her ass, her breath coming in panting gasps. “I have no wish to kill you,” he said. “Just walk away.”
    “Not that easy,” she said between ragged breaths.
    “Yes, it is.” Leigh’s voice carried to them as she came out from behind the boulders and stood in the center of the clearing. “Or is your hatred so overpowering you would darken your soul to feed it?”
    Beatrice gave a bitter laugh. “I have no soul left to save. I live only for duty. There is only the need to serve my goddess’s will.”
    Leigh frowned, pity in her eyes. “And is it your goddess that demands the life of this man? Or is it your prejudice which blinds you.”
    “Oh, I see. You are attracted to the demon. A little advice, screw them all you like, but they aren’t worth anything more than a good orgasm or two.”
    “Will you leave us in peace?” Taren interjected with a warning. “Or do I have to kill you? I give you this one chance, and I suggest you take it.”
    Beatrice focused on a spot behind them, a slow malicious smile spreading across her lips. “Even if I could I doubt they would.” She sneered.
    Leigh and Taren turned to find a dozen hunters, some with swords, others held their bows drawn, arrows sighted on them. The atmosphere grew thick, charged with impending violence.
    “Oh shit.” Leigh cursed.
    “You alright Beatrice?” One of the hunters with her blade at the ready called out.
    “Yes,” She hissed. “Kill them already.”
    Taren grabbed Leigh’s hand, twining his fingers with hers and gave her a slight nod. For an instant, Leigh’s eyes darkened with a deep bone-deep grief, quickly masked as she faced the hunters with a look of disdain. Pride filled his chest at the sight of her. Fearless in the face of her enemies. Their magics mixed—Demosian fire and air along with Leigh’s druidic earth and nature—rushing from their clasped hands, building as it surged through his veins like a whirlwind. Taren could taste the