An electrical thrill sparked. A quicksilver jolt from where he touched me, crackling along my arm and setting up an aching home behind my ribs.
He sucked in a breath as awareness thickened. The noise of the world turned down, everything went quiet apart from the thundering of my heart.
He moved closer.
Whisper lounged like a living shadow watching everything.
Lucien’s hand tightened even more, grinding my palm against the wooden hilt, while his other hand found my wrist, turning my arm so the dagger flashed in the golden lamplight.
Tugging me forward, he guided with pressure and proximity, not caring I struggled as he pressed the tip of the dagger against his own throat.
My eyes went wide. I tried to yank the weapon away from his skin. “What the hell are you doing?”
He didn’t look away from me, his hold fierce and unfightable. “If you’re going to kill with a knife, this is the best spot.” Dragging the blade across his neck, hard enough to leave a line but not hard enough to cut, he murmured, “No bones to get in the way. No fatty flesh to absorb the blow. Cut deep enough, and the gush of blood will do the rest for you.”
My mind filled with gruesome images—of his blood pouring like a wave down his chest, of his panther licking it up, of me covered in bright crimson—
“Stop it. Let me go.”
He sucked in a breath, and with both hands, manipulated me until the dagger drew a dangerous line down his front. His gaze never left mine as he angled the tip of the dagger right above his heart.
The room shrank until it was just the two of us. I couldn’t look away from him, stop him. Everything about this was absurd. The ridiculous intimacy of being taught to kill by a man I helped bleed every week. The rawness of our connection even while both of us denied it.
“Stabbing someone in the heart is another appropriate place, but me? The vitalsync core will get in the way.” Digging his thumb into the delicate bones of my wrist, he forced my hand back up.
I couldn’t breathe as he pressed the knife directly over his larynx. “It’s up to you if you want to slash or stab...either will work.”
I felt sick and sweaty and shivery. My headache came back in full force. “Why are you teaching me this? I have absolutely zero intention of hurting you.”
He stared at me for the longest heartbeat, the chandelier painting the planes of his face with dancing shadows. His fingers tightened, delivering pain even as he trembled, but then he released me and stepped back.
I dropped the knife.
My pulse drummed in my throat.
Stalking toward a side table with carved blossom flowers weaving around its legs, he wrenched open a drawer and pulled out another knife. Coming back toward me, he held it out. “I added this to my collection the other night. Take it.”
I backed up. “And if I refuse?”
“Then I’ll kill you.”
“How does that even make sense?”
“Take it.”
I locked my knees and glowered at him. The air between us turned electric once again, echoing in my teeth and fingertips, prickling down the back of my neck. “Are you teaching me how to kill to protect myself from the girls out there?”
Was this his version of a confession that hedidlike me?
“I’m teaching you this because it will be useful in the future.”
“Useful how?” I narrowed my eyes.
“If you stay alive, you’ll find out one day.” Stepping forward with a blast of black, he snatched my hand and slapped the dagger into it. The hilt was some sort of stone or bone—cold and slippery compared to the wooden one. “If you throw this away, I’ll kill you. If you don’t practice how to use it, I’ll kill you. If you’re late to work tomorrow, I’ll—”
“Kill me. Yeah, I know.”
His lips pursed as if he wanted to curse but he gave a curt nod and let me go. “Leave.”
