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skilled in battle and not hired thugs. Likely Hargrove had called them in response to him and to Miri’s threat to call security.
    Yet another sign Gordon Templeton was behind this.
    He knew it was unlikely they’d shoot Miri, they wanted her too badly but they weren’t going to get her without going through him first.
    Far stronger than these in whatever form he wore, his Daemonae body could sustain a great deal more abuse than men, as the priests had found. However, there was enough iron in those steel bullets to do a lot of damage both to this form and his natural one if they lodged anywhere within him.
     He thought he might have a way to…unsettle…them first and perhaps gain an advantage. They might have been warned about him but it was unlikely they’d never truly seen one of his kind in the flesh. Few had survived their last encounter.
    “Miri,” he said quietly, “when I say go, run to my bike.”
    The only other vehicle in the lot it was much faster than hers or most cars, more maneuverable, more vulnerable, too, but easier to get onto and get moving.
    He glanced over his shoulder quickly. Miri nodded.
    Turning, Miri faced the approaching men with her hand against the solidness of Ash’s back.
    Fabric tore.
    A shiver of magic washed over her skin and she felt armor come between her hand and the hard muscle beneath it.
    To her astonishment, great leathery wings unfolded from his back to each side of him and her. Seeing them in vision and seeing them for real were entirely different. Those wings spread like the fingers of a hand and a long sinuous tail curled around her waist as if to assure him she was still there, safe behind him.
    Startled, she turned her head to look over her shoulder and her breath caught, completely and utterly, in amazement. She’d seen it in vision, it was nothing to the reality.
    Beauty didn’t even begin to describe what she saw.
    Ashtoreth was incredible, magnificent in his true form, ancient and primal. Every part of her body reacted to him, her pussy clenched automatically in a rush of pure animal lust as appreciation shot through her at the sight of him in all his masculine glory.
    Scarlet armor covered almost all of him. A helmet shielded his face, while the linked mail secured at the edges protected the nape and sides of his neck. More armor covered his chest, thighs, shins.
    In his big hands was a sword straight out of her fantasy, the wavy black surface of it rune-covered. His big hands clenched on the wrapped leather hilt. Every muscle in his magnificent body, those of his back and what she could see past his wings, were rigid, clenched in preparation for battle.
    He was shockingly fast.
    Ash moved/
    The surprise of his shift was enough to startle those around them as well, taking them aback for one fatal second. Clearly whatever they’d expected they hadn’t expected this.
    Two steps and he spun. His sword flashed to separate one of the men from his gun. Along with the hand that held it.
    Still there were a good number more of them than of him.
    “Go,” he said.
    For a moment, Miri was frozen. She could only watch him, incredulous.
    He moved like the panther she’d imagined him to be, powerful, swift, precise, with no wasted movement, stunningly graceful and fluid. Now she truly knew the meaning of the phrase ‘poetry in motion’ as he moved to the attack in that precious moment of astonishment. He moved like water flowing, like trees bending. His sword caught the moonlight, flowed like a wave, not stopping as it cleaved through metal, bone and flesh. Blood sprayed, dark in the harsh orange light. It was incredible to watch.
    Then she shook herself, did as he asked, and ran.
    They opened fire, closed on him.
    A part of Ash thrilled to the simple joy of battle with worthy opponents. Were it not that the situation was so dire, that so much depended on him, and he wasn’t so severely outnumbered, he might have enjoyed it more.
    They’d clearly been warned about