Not a hero. A villain then.
Oh, so tempting…
“Careful, little lioness,” he whispers, leaning toward me until our faces are mere breaths apart, constrained only by the bars between us. “If you keep looking at me like that then I’m going to think youwantme to throw you over my shoulder and carry you off to some cave somewhere…”
“I do want something from you,” I whisper back, daring to run my knuckles down the linen of his tunic, feeling the ripple of his abdomen.
He doesn’t move a single inch closer, but the air of the cell thickens as if his mere presence has stolen all the oxygen from the room. “Do tell?”
“I just want…” I whisper, fingers curling around the dagger sheathed at his belt and jerking it free as I swiftly step back, “your knife.”
Bael makes a swift grab for it, but I judged the distance correctly.
I tap his fingers chidingly with the flat of the blade, and he growls under his breath at me as he slams against the bars of the cell.
“Down, kitty,” I whisper.
Those eyes flare wide in shock as I flip the blade, testing its weight. It’s beautiful. The balance is perfection. I’ve never laid eyes on a piece of steel as finely wrought as this, the edge practically winking at me in the light. There’s a rose engraved into the blade, the thorns glittering in warning.
“Kitty?” he growls, eyes locked on the knife as if he’s seen a ghost. “For that you deserve a spanking.”
My eyebrows lift at his words, but I smile at him, feeling giddy at the perfection of the blade. I had a collection of Beldt-made knives back in my home world, but nothing like this.
“You’re not human. I can feel it. There’s something inside you. Something sleek and dangerous. I can almost sense your tail lashing right now, like I’m a mouse you want to play with.” I press the tip of the knife against my finger, sucking in a hiss when I feel it prick me. It’s even sharper than I suspected.
Bael’s head tilts as he leans his forehead against the bars, those amber eyes never taking themselves off me. There’s no lasciviousness in his gaze, not like the others. Instead, it feelsas though he’s trying to read my mind, one arm resting on the horizontal bar, his forearm dangling through into my cell. “It’s not a cat.”
A thrill lights through me, an ancient sensation like knowing there’s something dangerous in the forest with you. He didn’t say there wasn’t something inside him. He just said what itwasn’t.
And then his lips curl in that faint half-quirk of a smile as he holds his hands up in surrender.
“Go on, then. Chase your vengeance. But don’t you dare lose my knife. My mother placed it in my hands the day she died, and I fully intend to take it back.” His voice is a low, silken threat. “You’re not the only one who knows how to hunt, little huntress. So run. Hide. Play your wicked little games. But know this—I’ll be right behind you. And when I catch you?” His gaze darkens, heated. “I’ll turn you over my knee and spank your ass until you beg for mercy.”
Chapter 5
Zyla
Sometimes the secret to a successful hunt is not in the chase, but in the trap that nobody sees.”
—ZYLA BASHKIRIA, AUTHOR OFA BRIDE’S GUIDE TO HUNTING THE HUNTER
“Iwant to speak with Rhykus,” I tell the Mouse, when he returns the next morning. He carries with him a bucket of water that’s presumably to replace the filthy bucket in the corner that I hadn’t touched.
The Mouse pauses outside my cell, and I realize I may have been too blunt.
“Please,” I whisper, heart racing with adrenaline.
I’d been hoping for someone new, but the Mouse isperfect. A little weed of a man who finds his bravery in company, but is otherwise weak.
I tugged wisps of my hair free from its confining braid before he arrived, and unhooked the top few laces of my virginal gown so that the bodice clings to the upper curve of my breasts. I saidI’d never bow to a man again, but I lower my eyes, just as I did with the Knights of Malus.
Very demure. Very modest. Just don’t look too closely at the slight bulge strapped to my thigh with one of my laces.
Bael watched the entire show, one wrist resting on his bent knee, his head leaning against the wall.
“Don’t stop there,”he’d teased, as I’d tugged my skirts down to cover the blade.
I’d snorted.“It’s not for you.”
