If it’s real, he’s been trained, the same as I have. I’m not sure how either one of us is alive right now instead of locked in this deadly standoff. I should have killed him instantly. And he should have done the same to me. It’s a damn miracle—or a curse. The kind of curse that leads to my expulsion from the Lifeless League. If I make it through alive, that is.
“Where’d you get this from?” I look at him just long enough to gesture to the mark on his neck.
“Same place as you, Huntress.” The insulting quality of his voice only serves to aggravate me further.
“I don’t think you’re in a position to be snide.” I narrow my eyes and tighten my grip on the knife in my hand, pressing it into his skin in warning.
“I don’t know. I always did like a cowgirl.” With a flex of his hips, he uses his body to try and distract me. It won’t work. At least, not much. I am currently straddling his impressive abs, using my position to hold him down, but I can feel the outline of his semi-hard cock through his jeans as he presses it up against my ass.
Seriously?Was a knee to his balls not enough to cool his ardor?
I roll my eyes at him, keeping my knife exactly where I want it until I get my answers. He knew my boss’s name, and we wear identical marks. Both pieces of information lead me to believe that he is a legitimate hunter, but I’ve been sent to kill him for a reason. If he’s an imposter, I need to know beyond a shadow of a doubt before I bleed him. It’s one of the rules we live by: hunters don’t kill other hunters.
“Show me the other mark.” I’ll take my chances, my muscles coiling, my body ready to strike if he makes a move I don’t approve of. It’s a chance I’m willing to take. Out of all the kill orders I’ve carried out, I’ve never taken down one of my own before.
“Not going to take me to dinner first?” He cocks an eyebrow, his features remaining entirely serious as he taunts me condescendingly.
I let my eyes scan his golden skin, seeking the second mark that will verify his identity. The one that will tell me what kind of abilities he’s capable of.
His voice is rough and dark when he speaks again, “Try a little lower.” He thrusts his hips again—hard—and I ride through the movement while keeping the knife from pressing further into his skin and drawing blood. If I wasn’t so skilled, he’d be bleeding out on the damn carpet right now.
Dying by my hand. The way he’s supposed to be.
Hell, he should have already been dead. Between his little pleasure session earlier and the fact that this assassination is going horribly wrong, I’m already wildly off schedule. My carefully laid plans to take out the next three marks on my list lay in ruins. The whole situation only serves to piss me off further.
“Do you have a fucking death wish?” I’m annoyed and thoroughly shaken—not that I’ll admit to it.
“Apparently, or you wouldn’t be on top of me now, would you?” His dark sarcasm isn’t lost on me. This entire situation is bizarre. I’ve never had such close contact with one of my marks before. I need to get a damn grip and figure this out.
Armond is testing me. He has to be. My brain is processing everything as quickly as it can, helping me to work through the details. Is this an exercise in following orders? Or is the mark on Tylin’s neck a fake, only placed there to buy him time if an assassin, like myself, came after him and paused when spotting it? Like I am doing now.Fuck.
“I can see you’re overthinking this. Let me simplify it for you.” Faster than I would have given him credit for, his hand grabs my wrist, bending it and dislodging the knife from his throat. With a twist of his body, he flips me, knocking the breath from my lungs as he lands on top of me. My legs are still straddling his waist as his body weight settles over me. Every part of him is solid against me. Using his hips to pin me under him, he wrenches my hands over my head and holds them still, knife and all. The dominance that radiates off of him equally turns me on and frustrates me all at once. “I think this is a much better look for you; restrained and at my mercy.” His eyes rake down my body, taking in every inch of me he can see.
There’s a part of me that is enjoying this tête-à-tête. A hunter’s life is quiet and lonely, and going toe to toe with Tylin is refreshing. And annoying. Wasn’t he trying to make a point? A point that isn’t about sex. I roll my eyes.
“We both know my current position is only temporary…” I smirk at him. “Weren’t you trying to simplify things for my poor female brain?” I push his regular brand of sarcasm back at him.
His body rumbles against me with muted laughter. “It has nothing to do with your gender. I’m rather thrilled that Armond sent a female after us. Makes things so much more interesting.”
I stiffen at the name of my boss on Tylin’s lips again and work to mentally calculate who the “us” in his statement could be. Nothing I had uncovered about him hinted at friends or colleagues. And why is he so well informed? It’s rare that marks know about the hit against them. They may realize they’re in danger, but rarely are any of them expecting the grim reaper—in the form of me or another hunter— to actually show up and steal their lives from them. What does it mean that Tylin has all this information?
“Who are you?”
He tsks at me. “Carrying out hits without all the details?” He gives me a condescending look that makes me wish I would have slit his throat. “Now that’s a rookie mistake.”
I growl at him, gnashing my teeth together in anger before I bite out a reply. “I’m not a damn rookie. I always do my research above and beyond the file that lands in my hands. I’ve researched you thoroughly and nowhere are you associated with…” I stop myself before I give away the name of my association. Nowthatwould be a rookie mistake. Instead, I leave it generic, “… a hunter.”
His eyes flick back and forth between mine, like he’s trying to read me. I open my face and let him see the truth behind my statement. If he is a hunter, he would be trained to read body cues.
“So he’s erased us from the system.” He suddenly looks tired as he hangs his head a little, breaking the eye contact.
This moment of weakness is the moment I’ve been waiting for, but I hesitate for a mere second. His dark eyes seem tired, the golden skin of his arms is taut as he holds my hands down, each muscle defined. There’s something lethal about him that calls to me. He personifies the phrase “tall, dark and handsome” and I soak up the attraction I know I’m feeling toward him.
I personify the phrase “all work and no play”. It’s been a long time since I let myself get distracted by male attention.
He’s entirely too strong. I can’t escape this position I’ve somehow gotten myself into. I need him distracted, and while I doubt he won’t see through my motives, I take my chances and grind my hips up into his, rubbing my center over the hardening length of him.
His eyes snap to mine. Heat flares in their depths as I continue circling my hips upward. The leather of my pants make it hard to get as close as I want to. I bit my lip, making my face vulnerable as I try to entice him to join in the pleasure. Moving under him, I struggle to keep my mind on escaping his grasp, enjoying the feel of him between my thighs a little too much. Maybe I need to take a night off and get laid so I can quench this irritating need. This attraction issue is clearly starting to cause problems.
