“I suppose that’s fair.” I pushed myself away from the table to approach. “I wouldn’t be opposed to a lesson or two from a thing like you.”
“What makes you think I want to teach you anything?” She lifted a brow, then the knife tipped in my direction, the blade hovering in front of me.
“I think I’ve taught you a few things in our short time together. A lesson for a lesson?” I offered, lifting my hand to hers and pointing the blade upward, anywhere but at my chest.
“Who said your lessons are worth it?”
“You keep coming back for more, don’t you?” I tipped my head at her, unable to hide a grin. “Or do you just want to see me beg?”
My hand on her wrist slipped up to her palm, stealing the knife from her hand.
She didn’t fight, didn’t protest. Perhaps this was a test, the hunger of curiosity getting the better of her. The flare in her eyes told me everything I needed to know.
“How often do you sharpen these?”
“Often enough.”
“Oh, really?” I lowered it to the strap of her apron, flicking it outward. She flinched, and the strap slipped away, the front corner of the apron folding down. “I suppose you weren’t lying.”
“Why would I lie?”
“I don’t know, Petronille, I wouldn’t imagine that you had any reason to lie to me, correct?” I hovered the knife over the other strap, cutting that one loose too.
“Of course not,” she whispered, her hands gripping the edge of the counter she leaned on, making me aware of my imposing position.
I reached past her, our faces getting close as I grabbed an apricot, holding it between our lips.
“You swear it?” I whispered.
I could hear her breathing. I could imagine her heart thumping wildly like a rabbit’s foot against frozen ground.
Her frightened eyes darkened, and she pushed the fruit away. “You have my word, Ipromise.”
“Shall we make an oath, then?” I suggested, pointing the knife to her left breast, the sharp tip hovering over her blouse.
She leaned forward, pressing it to the fabric; a tiny blotch of red blossomed.
I dragged it once, then again.
“If you turn on me, the knife won’t be in your back, it will be here.” I tapped the middle of the X. “No matter how wrong I am done, I will be honorable.”
She took my hand in hers, redirecting the knife to my peck, dragging it in a neat single hatch. “There will be no confusion as to where you may find my blade or a bullet buried.”
The knife returned upward between us, a hint of red glistening.
“We have a deal, then.”
“This has always been the understanding.” She smirked, leaning up. I thought she would kiss me. No—she was hungry for something else. Her tongue dragged up the flat side of the blade, the red of our blood staining her tongue, her lips.
It was easy to become taken with something like her. She should be angelic and pure from looks alone, only to find she was much more elusive, so many pieces left unknown, an enigma to be solved. The only thing she would not be is tame, and that was very good or very bad for my own demons to cavort with.
I dropped the blade, our lips crashing together before we could even hear the metal blare against the tile. I lifted her onto the counter, and her legs found a place around my waist. The taste of blood was off-putting, strange, primal. I felt some sort of release, some satiation as my fingers dug at her side, her nails against my back.
She grabbed at my shirt, tearing it open to expose the fresh cuts. She flattened her tongue on it, and the sting subsided after she moved to bite me.
I grabbed her hair, yanking her head to the side to bite back. She smelled like a sweet, like a pastry tempting a passerby in the bakery window, an expensive delicacy. Her skin was smooth like cream; I just wanted to sink my teeth in.
It would be so easy.
