“Wait, stop!” Wujun’s mind was reeling. He’d been trained to defend himself and to keep his head in a crisis since he was a young boy, but actually being in danger was far different from practice. He had expected the fear and hadn’t been surprised by the sound or smell of death, but the confusion he felt was getting the better of him. “Who’s chasing us? What’s going on?”
When Kentai wouldn’t stop, he continued to run, holding the other man’s hand with all his strength, afraid of what might happen if he let go. After several minutes, he couldn’t speak any more, and so he gave up, focusing his energy on running and breathing.
Finally, they slowed down and ducked into another alleyway. This one was every bit as dark as the last, lit only by a faint beam of moonlight that couldn’t fully penetrate the gloom. Kentai directed Wujun to the darkest shadows cast by a narrow cleft in the wall that led to a small doorway. No doubt the establishment here used it to haul away trash out of sight of the customers. The space was barely big enough for the two of them to fit, so they had to squish together.
Not far away they could hear boots pounding down the street as their pursuers tried to figure out where they’d gone. There was a lot of shouting and more than once a beam of light shot down the alley. Each time this happened, Wujun felt certain they were about to be caught, but Kentai remained as still as a statue.
It was a strange sensation, being so close to another person. Wujun had always been taught to maintain an appropriate distance. The only time he was touched was to be disciplined or when sparring with Soki. When he realized how much of Kentai was pressed against him, Wujun’s fear of being found was replaced with a completely different sort of tension.
He was suddenly very aware of the subtle, earthy scent of Kentai’s braid and the warmth that radiated from him into Wujun’s body everywhere they connected. Even in the dark, he could make out the line of the other man’s square jaw. He couldn’t stop his mind from wondering what it might be like to press his lips against it, to move them down his neck…
He blushed and was thankful the lack of light kept Kentai from noticing. These feelings were new to Wujun. He’d been this close to Soki when training countless times and had never felt so aroused. Was it because they had practically grown up together? It couldn’t have been that he was focused on sparring, because this situation was far more dangerous. Maybe he just didn’t find her attractive?
Wujun was so lost in thought, it took him a second to realize Kentai was staring at him. Dark, steely eyes found his even in the black of night and a sudden rush of heat spread throughout the young man that was equal parts embarrassment and elation. He opened his mouth to apologize for his body’s unbidden response, but nervousness kept him from speaking.
To his relief, Kentai grinned. He leaned closer and whispered gruffly in Wujun’s ear, “I’m flattered, kid, but now really isn’t the time.” Then he nipped the younger man’s earlobe in a teasing manner that was both bliss and torture.
Despite the situation, Wujun involuntarily cried out as pleasure coursed through him. He clung to Kentai as his knees threatened to buckle. He was vaguely aware of the other man’s self-satisfied smirk, as one might see the shape of a deer in dense fog.
Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.
“Hey! I heard something down here.” The shouting from the street dragged him back to his senses.
“Shit…” Kentai muttered, the smile vanishing. “Oh well, it was worth it.”
Wujun didn’t quite agree, but he was in no position to argue. His legs felt mushy, as though they might give out at any second, and his cheeks he was certain glowed red even in the dark. He didn’t resist as Kentai pulled away, taking with him the alluring warmth so that a sudden chill nipped at him where once a firm body had been. His mind noted the scraping sound of a sword being drawn, of multiple feet approaching, and the haze of lust was swept away like dead leaves on the wind.
“It’s Ironfang!” someone shouted. The thugs coming at them slowed at this realization but did not stop their forward advance.
Kentai let out a faint, resigned sigh that was probably only heard by Wujun. The latter had stepped out as well and taken up a position next to his large companion. He raised his hands up, assuming a loose fighting stance that would allow him to remain mobile as well as balanced. The swordsman noticed and glanced at him from the corner of his eye but said nothing.
In the next second, Kentai bolted forward, the motion far more graceful than one might expect for a man of his size. With fluid precision the elegant blade struck, effortlessly carving through flesh and sinew, nerve and tendon. The mercenary used the narrow alleyway to his advantage, the walls thinning out the flood of opponents so they couldn’t flank and overwhelm him with sheer numbers. Slight, controlled slashes felled thug after thug, their blood pooling on the ground in a wash of crimson.
Wujun hadn’t noticed it the first time Kentai had fought. The darkness had hidden his face. Now, with the light pouring in down the street, he observed that every time Kentai’s blade claimed a life, the man flinched. It was faint and fleeting, but it was there. Wujun also noticed that he never looked back at the bodies, he kept his gaze forward, fixed on the next opponent.
What sort of mercenary balks at killing? He does it easily enough… Does it pain him somehow? It was unlikely he would get any answers, but the questions drifted through his mind all the same.
As Kentai fought his way out of the alley, Wujun kept pace not far behind him. So far, he’d not had the opportunity to contribute to the fight, but he was there and ready should anyone slip by the agile swordsman.
Finally, they burst out onto the street. Wujun turned with his back to Kentai’s, trusting the other to protect him and determined to do the same. They were surrounded by another half dozen thugs, all spread out, though more cautious considering how easily the swordsman had cut through their ranks so far.
Wujun glanced back at the alleyway and could make out the shadowy lumps that were the bodies of the dead. It was impossible without better lighting to tell how many there were, but he could estimate it was more than he could count on one hand. It sent a shiver down his spine; he had never seen so much death in person before. Suddenly he was glad for the darkness; this way he couldn’t see the details of the lifeless husks that even now were growing cold, the process of decay already begun.
“The kid is under my protection,” he heard Kentai’s gruff voice behind him. It snapped Wujun back to the moment, allowing him to free his gaze from the alley and the carnage it held. “You can fuck off or you can die, but either way you’re not laying a finger on him.”
Wait. They’re here for me? The thought made Wujun shudder.
A couple goons glanced around, trying to decide if they thought they could take him or not. Before any of them came to a conclusion, however, a voice cut through the night, deep and mocking.
“Well, as I live and breathe, the legend himself is here. Ironfang, it’s been too long, friend.”
Between the malevolent tone of the speaker and the way Kentai stiffened in surprise, the newcomer was anything but a friend.