“Shit.” She spun in a half circle, feverishly looking for a way off the central island that didn’t involve certain death—or at the very least, broken bones. Grimacing, she gathered herself to run.

Piers’s protective instincts roared to life, and he reached for the woman just as she decided to throw all caution to the wind. His hand closed around her upper arm, stopping her from rushing headlong into traffic. She whirled on him with a gasp.

Bright blue eyes shot even wider than before. So blue. They punched into him like twin lightning bolts and stole the breath from his lungs.

“Don’t cross yet.” He sounded just like the people all around him. Since that went far beyond luck, he knew it was sorcery. “You have to wait for the striding man to hold back the metal wagons.”

She gaped at him. “What? Let go of me!” She started twisting.

Piers turned his grip to stone, even though he didn’t want to hurt her. “You’ll get yourself killed.”

“They’ll kill me!” She glanced sideways at the oncoming men.

“Why?”

“Why?” Her jaw dropped farther. “Because they’re hired thugs, and someone paid them to!”

Piers nodded. That was good enough for him to defend her. She could be lying, but he didn’t think so. Something about her bright, inflated attire and tight little head covering with the multicolored zigzags running across it told him she was trustworthy, while the burly men in dark clothing hunting down a lone woman probably weren’t the good guys.

“Stay here. Stay behind me,” Piers said.

Her delicate brows snapped together. “Why?” She glanced toward the two big warriors. “I have to get out of here.”

Piers followed her frightened gaze again. He had to admit, the two men looked formidable. Large. Muscular. One was blond. The other had brown hair. Beyond that, they looked interchangeable. Same size, shape, and posture. He wouldn’t have minded having his brothers with him right now, but since he was alone, he’d handle it.

“Stay,” he repeated, letting her arm go with a little squeeze to help convince her.

She wrenched away from him. “I’m not a dog!” Her frosty indignation hit him at the same time as the cold wind barreling down the thoroughfare. She looked him up and down, probably seeing his goose bumps. “Just because you escaped from…I don’t know…the set of Gladiator doesn’t mean you get to order me around like some Roman general!”

While her words themselves made sense to him, Piers had no idea what she meant by any of that except for general—which was true. But right now, he didn’t have time to deal with his questions. The warriors arrived on the central island, barely sparing him a glance as they focused on the woman.

“Nowhere left to run,” the fair-haired one said with a satisfied chuckle.