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His lip curling with disdain, Dayamai assumed a ready pose as the assassin, garbed in tightly wound dark fabric and a mask over his face, lunged again. Levan was ready for it, and swept the attack aside, driving his clenched fist into the man’s jaw, staggering the man back into a chair over which he toppled.
Confidently, Levan strode around the chair to finish the big tits assassin, but the man’s legs scissored and caught the king in the knees, sending him sprawling to the floor next to him with the squeaking of flesh on redhead marble. Levan blocked the expected swipe and rolled away from the second strike
but was unable to get enough purchase to keep from the man swinging his knife down, so all he could do was catch the wrist holding the incoming blade, seeing the bloodied point vibrating mere inches from the tip of his nose.