Read A Promise of Fire for Free Online

He’s big, blond, and almost impossibly handsome, with startling cobalt eyes. The mace he carries tells me he’d rather bludgeon than slice. I get that. There’s something satisfying about whacking people over the head.
    Backing up, I dig around in my pocket, which is not easy, and pull out one of the warlord’s coppers. “Here’s your coin. Now get out.” I throw the copper at him.
    He catches it on reflex and then tosses it back, hitting me in the chest.
    I glare at him, fuming.
    “I’m loyal,” Kato volunteers cheerfully. He looks like he’s always happy. There are smile lines etched into the tanned skin around his mouth and eyes, and perfect teeth like his are just made to be shown off with a grin.
    I scowl at the blond warrior now, reluctantly noting that he’s a rather perfect specimen of a man while giving him a heaping dose of the evil eye. There’s no soul ripping this time, and everyone knows it.
    Apparently satisfied, the warlord steps closer. “Now that that’s settled, you’re coming with me.”
    I snort, stepping back. “Never in a billion suns. Not even if Zeus showed up as a swan and tried to peck me in your direction. I wouldn’t go with you even if my other option was Hades dragging me to the Underworld for an eternal threesome with Persephone.”
    The warlord pierces me with a hard stare. “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way.”
    “Or no way,” I retort.
    He lunges for me. The tent is small, and he’s shockingly fast. His hands close around my upper arms, and satisfaction flares in his eyes. “Not poisonous anymore?”
    “A shame.” I stomp on his foot, crushing with the heel of my boot.
    He laughs. Bastard .
    I disappear. I’m still there, just invisible, and he lets go. They always do. The warlord lets out a sound somewhere between a snarl and a grunt and stares at his empty hands. It never occurs to people to just hold on.
    I inch away, silent. Four men block the door. They shed their casualness like it’s a second skin, becoming battle ready in an instant, alert, the air around them charged with tension.
    “Guard the door,” the warlord rumbles. “She’s still here.”
    Gods damn it! I glance around. There’s no escaping under the tent. The material is tight and flush to the ground. Aetos drove the spikes in for me, and it’ll take Aetos’s muscles to get them out again. There’s a knife in my belt. I could slice the canvas, but by the time there’s an opening I could fit through, the warlord would be on top of me. My only option is to draw them away from the door. If Flynn and his giant ax would move about a foot to the right, I could probably slip through.
    The silence in the tent is absolute. I don’t even hear them breathing. Then the warlord turns and looks straight at me. Impossible .
    Still one moment, he pounces the next, grabbing me. I’m so shocked I lose my concentration and pop back into sight. One big hand is clutching the better part of both breasts, and the other is clamped over my ear, his fingers digging into my braid.
    I suck in a sharp breath and pound on his wrist, trying to dislodge his hand from my chest, shaken by how large the warlord is, and how ungodly hot his hands are on me—a firestorm of muscle, sinew, and bone.
    His eyes flaring, he adjusts his grip, banding hard fingers around my left arm. I fly at him with my right fist and punch him in the neck. He jerks, taking the blow on the muscular column instead of the sensitive front. I draw back for another hit, but he plucks my fist out of the air and then forces it down, easily shackling both wrists in one hand. He uses his other hand to disarm me, slipping the knife from my belt and into his own.
    I nearly cringe at my own stupidity. Eight years with the circus has made me soft. I had a knife, and I didn’t even think of stabbing him when he couldn’t see it coming.
    Snarling, I bang my forehead into his jaw.
    A muscle feathers along the warlord’s cheek. Grasping my upper