She knows where to cut. Someone must have taught her that, an odd lesson for a princess. Or maybe she figured it out for herself. Did she lie awake at night imagining all the ways she might need to kill something? I wonder if she pictured a fae when she practiced.
I don’t move.
The knife presses harder. She’s working up her nerve, and I can almost hear her thoughts.
Just do it. One quick motion and it’s over. He’s asleep, he won’t even feel it. Just do it and run and don’t look back.
She came here to hunt, but hunting from horseback with a bow is different from this. This is close. This is personal. This is feeling the blade bite into flesh and watching the life drain out of someone’s eyes.
Seconds pass. Ten. Twenty. The blade trembles against my throat.
I open my eyes. She flinches, a full-body jerk that almost pulls the knife back a fraction. She catches herself, and the blade steadies, pressed against my skin, her knuckles white around the handle.
“Go on.”
Her breath hitches at the sound of my voice. Her pupils are blown wide, whites showing around the edges. She has a knife to my throat, and shestillcan’t make herself use it.
“You’ve got it right where you need it. A little more pressure, until you cut me, and then I’ll bleed out.” I hold her gaze. “What are you waiting for?”
“Shut up!” Her voice shakes.
“You won’t get another chance,Moirthalen. You’re armed. I’m not. All you have to do is?—”
She presses harder, and there’s a sting as the blade breaks skin. A thin line of warmth trickles down my neck.
“Isaidshut up!”
I smile. Under all that fear and trembling, there’s something with teeth after all. Her eyes widen, andthat’swhen I move. My hand closes around her wrist and twists. The knife clatters to the floor. Before she can react, before she can draw breath to scream, I have her on her back, wrists pinned above her head.
She struggles beneath me, body arching and twisting, her hips bucking as she tries to throw me off. I press her harder into the floor, my chest against hers, my legs pinning hers so she can’t get leverage. I can feel the heat of her body through the thin fabric of my tunic. She’s panting, her breath hot against my face.
For a moment, I’m not here. I’m in a silk-draped bedroom with perfumed air and hands that won’t stop touching. I’m pinned under a body that takes what it wants while the collar ensures my compliance.
I shake my head, forcing myself back to this moment. This is different.I’mthe one in control.
“Let me go!” She writhes again, and her thigh slides against mine. Disgust fills me at the touch. “Let me?—”
“No.”
She spits in my face.
I wipe it away with my free hand.
Fury and fear battle for dominance in her eyes. Her jaw isset, but her chin is quivering. She tried to kill me and failed. And now, she’s pinned beneath me with no hope of escape. Yet instead of begging for her life, shespatat me.
“Just kill me already. I’m tired of waiting.” Her voice shakes, but she doesn’t look away.
“If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead.”
“Then whatdoyou want? To torture me?”
I don’t answer. Her body is taut beneath mine, every muscle coiled tight. Her chest rises and falls against me with each ragged intake of breath. Her wrists are small in my grip, the bones delicate, her skin soft and warm. Her pulse hammers under my fingers. The heat of her body is everywhere we touch. Her lips part, eyes locked on mine …
I need to get off her.Now. Before the memories drag me back under.
I release her, and roll to my feet.
“Next time, when you have your enemy at a disadvantage, don’t hesitate.”
