Read Lynn Viehl - [Darkyn 08 - Lords of the Darkyn 01] for Free Online Page B

cover and spread out, encircling him. Their efficient movements and effortless formation testified to their training and experience; this ambush was not their first. A whirring, mechanical sound brushed against his ears as the only avenue of escape they had left him, the open gates behind his back, began to close.
    “This one has hair like a little girl,” one of the mortals said.
    “He smells like one, too,” another muttered. “We should slice off his cock and put him in a dress.”
    “I like his mouth.” Another man openly massaged the bulge in the front of his trousers. “You save the head for me, eh?”
    The men spoke in gutter Italian with Napoli accents, something Korvel would have to ponder later. The easy certainty with which they spoke of desecrating his remains gave him pause; they already assumed they would prevail. He studied them again, and saw that their combat blades had been greased black, a tactic foreign to him. As one turned his dagger, Korvel saw beneath the coating the rosy glow of copper, the only metal on earth that could inflict injury and death on him.
    They not only knew what he was; they had learned how best to deal with and dispatch him.
    All Korvel had left to him was his Darkyn ability to compel any female to desire him. Unlike l’attrait, his power was not based on scent, but on touch or proximity, obliging Korvel to lay hands on or move close to the mortal he wished to bespell. Although it usually had no effect on men, some who were attracted to their own gender occasionally fell under his power. He focused on the man with the obvious erection and imagined Alexandra Keller standing in his place, her arms extended, her petite, naked body gleaming in the pale sunlight. Forcing himself to visualize her filled Korvel with self-disgust, but channeling his own desire into his ability made it strong enough to cross the physical gap between him and the aroused man.
    The blade fell from the man’s hand, and he took an uncertain step toward Korvel. His movement drew the attention of the other men, one of whom spoke sharply.
    “Watch hi—”
    The warning ended in a gurgle of blood as Korvel’s blade buried itself in the man’s neck. The others rushed in, hoping to close the circle, but Korvel crouched and jumped, soaring over their heads before he flipped and landed on his feet behind them.
    He cut the throat of the man closest to him, pushing him into another and relieving both of their blades, throwing them into the bellies of two more. The terror of the remaining men radiated as they collided with one another and retreated in a desperate attempt to elude Korvel’s counterattack. He opened the femoral artery of one with a single sweeping strike; another shrieked and toppled as the long dagger sliced across the back of his knees.
    Korvel put his back to the gate as the three remaining men regrouped, one fumbling as he pulled around his assault rifle to aim and fire. A spray of bullets pinged against the iron gates and the wall stones while Korvel dropped and rolled behind one of the injured, rising to hold the gasping mortal in front of him. Now a living shield, the body writhed as more bullets pierced his clothing, and Korvel threw his second dagger into the chest of the shooter, who staggered backward. He then pulled free the automatic weapon from the shoulder of the bullet-ridden body, dropping the dead man to fire on the last two left standing.
    One managed to fling his knife before he fell, a move Korvel did not anticipate. He turned, but not quickly enough, and felt the weapon strike the back of his thigh. The burn of the copper did not end when Korvel reached back to yank out the dagger; from the jagged condition of the blade it was evident that part had broken off and remained lodged in the wound. He fired one final time, turning in an uneven circle to finish off the wounded before he threw away the weapon and staggered toward the gates.
    The scent of smoke made Georges rear his