George hesitated at the sound, relaxing his grip on her shoulders and turning away from Percy’s looming presence.
His mistake.
Percy slipped between them and rammed the hilt of his knife into George’s temple.
The man dropped, knife clattering to the cobblestones.
Danny willed her racing heart to slow, prayed the boiling heat in her veins to lessen. But the man’s blade had skidded to a stop at the toe of her slipper, the tip piercing the satin. The visual of penetration, the knowledge that the smallest shift of her foot and the bite of the steel would catch her toes... Danny grabbed at the skirts between her legs and fought another moan.
“Danny?”
She glanced up from the knife to see Percy, his face a mask of horror.
Oh, God.
There was no relief at the thug’s disarmament. Danny kicked the knife away and dropped to the freezing cobblestones, the pleasure draining away to leave behind waves of sick.
It was over. There was no use hiding it anymore.
The demon inside her had been released and no amount of praying would keep the world from seeing. Fromhimseeing.
And condemning her like the broken woman she was.
