Jaxor’s gaze narrowed and he tilted his chin, baring his throat for her. “I will not, so you may as well cut my throat now,rixella.”
“You don’t think I will?” she whispered, looking down at him. Jaxor took note of their position now that his mind was waking up. How long had he been asleep? Through the crack of the door, he saw it was still dark outside. He still felt tired, his energy extinguished. He couldn’t have been asleep for longer than an hour, he decided.
And his little mate had already gone snooping and found herself a weapon in his stores. He’d been too tired to even consider that she would take one, or wield it against him. An oversight he would not make again.
She was kneeling at his side, her knees dug into the furs. Close enough that the tops of her bare thighs were pressing into his arm. Jaxor could easily roll her over and loosen the blade from her grip, but he was curious to see what she would do.
He didn’t answer her. To spur her on, he snaked his hand, the one lying closest to her legs, up her left thigh. Her flesh was warm and soft, supple. He gripped her hard, pulling her closer, ignoring her surprised gasp. His hand was only inches from her cunt. Frustration tore at him. Tension ran from the tips of his horns all the way to the hardened soles of his feet.
His sleeping quarters were quiet. The lantern flickered. Her eyes were wide and soft and Jaxor thought, strangely, that he could look into them forever.
“Why couldn’t you be like the others?” she whispered. Then her brow furrowed, like she didn’t understand her own words.
His hand spasmed on her upper thigh, surprised, disturbed, cowed by the question. Because he thought he knew exactly what she meant.
“You wish for me to be kind?” he murmured. “You wish I were a gentle beast and completely besotted with you?” He pressed his neck further into the blade, beginning to rise up from his supine position, forcing her to ease her grip. “Youare the one with a knife to my throat making demands,luxiva.”
Luxiva. Fated one.
He used it mockingly and he saw her flinch at the word. So, she knew what it meant. She heard the way he twisted a sacred word into a joke. For a moment, Jaxor felt guilty. Then he steeled his resolve.
His voice was rough as he growled, “Make the cut or take the blade away from myfuckingthroat!”
It was better this way. If he didn’t give into the Fates’ decree, then it would be easier to live without her. He could still make good on his deal with theMevirax. He could still secure the vaccine. He could still take his revenge.
She wanted to do it. He could see it in her eyes. Her hand shook, making the knife tremble. He dared her with his gaze. Perhaps, he pleaded with her too.
“It doesn’t matter,” she finally said quietly, lowering her eyes from him. “I would have never chosen someone like you anyways.”
The words stung but Jaxor didn’t react to them. Who would she have chosen, if given the choice? He couldn’t help but ponder that question as she tossed the blade at his side and slipped from his grip.
A male more like my brother, he concluded, ignoring the ensuing jealousy from the realization. Someone stable.Sane. Someone who didn’t get off on arguing at knifepoint. Someone who could treat her well, who would protect her at all costs.
“Don’t ever tie me up again,” she tossed over her shoulder. His gaze strayed to the reddened marks around her now-bare wrists. Even he had the decency to hate the sight, to feel the rumble of discomfort from his Instinct.
With a growl, he turned over, facing the door.
It would be easier if she hated him. That way, at least she wouldn’t be disappointed.
Chapter Six
I’m not like this, was Erin’s first coherent thought when she woke the next morning. Last night returned to her and shame colored her cheeks as she lay on top of thin furs, staring at the grey of the cave wall.
She’d actually threatened Jaxor’an with a knife.A knife. She’d drawn his blood. He’d called her bluff.
Except, a part of her wondered if it had been a bluff. She’d felt thisthingrise inside her. More potent and consuming than normal anger. She wasn’t even certain she could call it anger. It had been something deeper, fiercer. It had frightened her. It had exhilarated her.
Hehad brought it out of her, coaxed it from her.
She lifted a trembling hand to scrub her eyes and chanced a peek behind her, only to find Jaxor’an gone and daylight peeking through the slivered crack underneath the heavy door. She pushed up from her position, her mouth dry and her stomach cramping from hunger.
She wasn’t like this. She was…calm. She’d always prided herself on being acalmperson. Logical, reasonable. Controlled.
Perhaps, I’m more like my mother than I originally believed, she thought, swallowing past the lump in her throat, fear rising in her breast.
Her eyes strayed to where she’d tossed the knife away last night only to find it gone. Outside the door, she heard something clanging. For a brief moment, Erin wondered if Jaxor’an had locked her inside, if this was to be her prison now that her hands were no longer bound.
Rubbing her wrists, she rose from the furs, ignoring her surprisingly sore muscles, and walked to the door. There was a bolt, not a lock, and when she slid it open, the door unsealed and she pushed it without resistance.
