Before I could make contact, he lifted me off the ground and flung me sideways. I gasped, bracing myself for impact with the hard floor.
It never came.
I landed on the bed and bounced, momentarily stunned and confused by what had just happened.
He approached me with a smug grin, the picture of supreme arrogance except… The golden gleam in his eyes had dulled, and he looked sad.
My heart twisted sharply. I…I didn’t like the idea of him being sad—
I shut down that line of thought. It was a trick. I needed to focus. I took a deep breath and waited until he was just a step away before rocking back on the bed and pushing out with my feet.
He took the hit to his chest and staggered back. “Fuck,” he grunted. “I think you may have cracked a rib, Princess.”
I should’ve felt satisfaction, but I felt sort of sick as I slid off the bed. I rushed for one of the doors. Grasping the gold handle, I yanked it open—
A large clawfoot tub—an absolutelybeautifulclawfoot tub—greeted me.
“Wrong door.”
Hissing, I spun toward the other one. He was so damn quick, planting himself in front of the exit.
I charged, my swings and kicks coming in rapid succession, but he was good—and fast—his movements so fluid it seemed like he was part of the very air around us. He deftly blocked each blow, but as he caught my next swing and pushed me back, I saw the beginnings of deep purple bruises forming on his skin. A mix of satisfaction and sorrow filled me at knowing I was causing him pain, but I also felt a twinge of guilt for hurting someone I…
Pain stabbed my temples, making me stumble. He caught me by the shoulders, and my head jerked up.
His chiseled features, rigid and severe, softened the moment our gazes met. “We don’t have to do this.”
I drew my knee up, aiming for his stomach. Groaning, he dropped his hold. Without wasting time, I turned for the other door.
He wrapped an arm around my waist with a curse and spun me back toward the bed. I let out a frustrated growl.
“Growl all you want,” he said, the line of his jaw hard. “You’re not getting past me.”
There was no mistaking his determination to keep me here. It was a fire burning in his eyes and tone, and it wasall too familiar.
Never again.
I charged him, dropping low to strike with a vicious kick. He jumped, avoiding the leg sweep. I popped up, panting for breath. Sweat glistened on his brow, and a line of crimson trickled from the corner of his split lip, staining his jaw and cheek. The metallic scent of his blood filled my nostrils. Hunger gnawed at me.
I needed to feed.
If I did, I knew I could take him down instead of merely trying to escape. That’s what I should be doing. But…
Something stopped me. Was it my distrust? Getting close enough to feed would make me vulnerable. Or was it the knowledge that he hadn’t once swung on me?
It didn’t matter.
He stepped toward me, and I thrust my knee up, aiming for his groin. With swift movements, he shielded himself with his thigh and then tried to pin my arms to my sides.
Realizing he was going for the type of hold that would force submission, I let my legs buckle.
Unprepared for my dead weight, his grip slipped. He cursed as I landed on my knees. Ignoring the dull pain, I rocked back and jumped to my feet.
A wave of tingles swept up the back of my head, momentarily causing darkness to creep into the corners of my vision. Breathing harshly, I backed up until I hit the wall. Agitation and rising exhaustion grew as he calmly waited for my next move.
With one last surge of energy, I pushed off the wall and used a nearby chair to gain height. Balancing precariously on the seat, I jumped off and kicked toward him. The wooden legs scraped against the floor, desperately trying to gain traction.
My body moved swiftly through the air, muscles coiled as I started to twist and extend my leg—
