She tries to twist, but I lean in, trapping her body between the mirror and my weight. The sweat from her neck stains the padding of her jacket. I put my mouth right at her ear, close enough to taste the salt.
“You want to know the difference between you and me?” I rasp.
She laughs, but it’s forced. “Let me guess. You’re the wolf. I’m the sheep.”
“You’re not sheep, Dahlia.” I tell her. “But youareeither going to run beside me, or I’ll force you to surrender.”
She shudders, a quick vibration that runs through her whole frame.
I brush a strand of her from her face. She breathes faster. Her eyes, reflected in the glass, are wide and bright.
I let go of her wrist. She doesn’t move.
“My turn,” she says, and swings her elbow back, aiming for my jaw. I let it connect, the sting waking up something inside me.
I grab her by the hair, and force her to look at her own reflection.
“Your daddy’s name means nothing to me,” I say, slow and deliberate. “Your bloodline, your status—none of it will save you from what I plan to do.”
She snarls, actually snarls, teeth bared like she’s about to bite.
“Fuck you,” she spits.
I laugh, because it’s perfect. “That’s the spirit.”
I keep her pressed, the heat between us getting raw. The room is dead quiet except for our breath and the sound of her jacket creasing against the glass.
Tilting her chin up, I force her eyes to meet mine in the mirror.
“You scared?” I ask.
She blinks, twice. Then, “I don’t scare easy.”
“Liar.”
I let my other hand slide down, slow, over the padded vest, the curve of her ribs. I stop just above her stomach, fingers splayed, possessive.
She tries to twist again, but I push her back, just enough to let her know I could end her or own her.
“I see you,” I tell her.
She goes still, breathing in shallow bursts.
“You think you’re a killer,” I say, “but you’ve never had to fight for your life. Not really. Not when the whole world’s set up to keep you untouchable.”
Her jaw flexes.
I use my thumb to trace the edge of her jaw, then dip it down, slow, until I’m pressing just below the hollow of her throat.
She tries to laugh. “You don’t know shit about me.”
“I know everything about you,” I reply. “You’re hiding in plain sight. But you want to be found.”
I press a little harder, feeling her heart beat bang against my palm.
“You want to be ruined,” I whisper, so soft only she can hear.
She shakes her head, but her body says yes. Every muscle is rigid, every nerve firing.
