We had been in the middle of a breakthrough, and I got so swept away with just being with her that I, once again, neglected to give her crucial information. I kick myself for not being a better communicator. It's something I vow to work on.
“Are you hungry?” I ask, taking the tray from the female and offering it to Arina. She is in the corner near the stairs that lead up to the quarterdeck.
“No.” She looks curiously at the food, but snaps her eyes away with haste. Her stomach groans loudly.
“You are so fucking stubborn.”
“And you're an asshole!”
I set the tray on a nearby barrel, bringing a piece of cheese with me and moving closer to her until her back is against a corner.
“You need to eat, Arina.”
“Don't presume to know a damn thing about my needs,” she snaps, but takes the morsel and inspects it slowly.
Then she pops it in her mouth and groans her approval. “Gods. That is so good,” she admits, but then snaps herself right back into the defense, narrowing her eyes at me as if she thinks I might trick her into something.
“You are tightly coiled. Do you need a release, little snake? Will that help you relax?” I pin her with my weight. She tries to push me away, but I catch her hands, lifting them above her head.
She stammers, blinking up at me with tired, needy eyes glazed over with lust. Fuck. The sight of her body relaxing, the fact that she's not fighting me even the slightest bit, has my cock twitching to life.
“Th-there are people. Lavinia is right there,” she whines.
“If you think I give a fuck about anyone seeing me with you, you haven't been paying attention,” I whisper at the shell of her ear, reveling in the way she melts for me.
I reach down to graze her thigh, my fingers barely a flicker of a touch, but still enough to have her wriggling, trying to increase the friction. Arina arches her back, letting her head fall as her eyes close in anticipation of what's coming.
I trace one finger up her leg. Slowly. Softly. If it's torture for her, it's fucking unbearable for me. I debate my next move, but she’s already cross with me, how much worse can it get? And this needs to be done.
When my fingertips brush metal, I snatch her dagger from its sheath. Before she can react, I drop her hands and drag the blade across her braid. It's so sharp that it doesn't take much effort or pressure to chop her hair just at her shoulders.
“What the fuck did you just do?” She bellows, and her eyes darken, homing in on me.
“Consider it payback for your little knife trick back on the boat.” I go to hand her back the dagger with an open palm.
She attempts to snatch it, but I pull it back just before she can.
“You cut my fucking hair!”
“And you stabbed me. Be grateful that's all I did. It's time to move on, Arina. You can't do that while carrying the weight of your past. Besides, I've told you that fucking braid is going to get you into trouble.” I dangle the dagger above her, just out of reach.
Her cheeks are so red, I think lava might pour from her eyes as she screams at me and climbs my body, hanging from my arm, and wrestling the dagger from my hands.
“Give it back!” She spins from my grasp, dagger firmly in her grip as she takes a fighting stance.
“You want to hit something? Hit me, Arina. You've got all that anger just simmering inside you. Take it out on me. Get it out ofyour system.” I shouldn't be taunting her, but maybe it's for the best.
“I hate you,” she whispers as she takes a deep breath through her nose.
“Maybe I want you to hate me.” It's easier that way, I lie to myself. It dawns on me that this is what I have been doing all along. Holding her at a distance, making her hate me so I wouldn't have to face our bond. But then we were alone on that boat …
Arina lunges for me, and I don't react. Her dagger sinks into me like I'm made of sand.
The gasp she lets out when she realizes what she's done is actually very reassuring.
“Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.” She cradles my body to the ground as she curses.
“You really enjoy stabbing me, don't you?” I joke, holding the spot where my dagger still protrudes from my abdomen.
