And yet, there are these … moments. Soft and quiet, or hungry and unguarded, in which I can almost glimpse another side to him.
Almost.
But then I remind myself who he truly is.Whathe is. A slaver. A monster. Vicious, volatile and cruel. And no amount of kittens or kisses will ever convince me otherwise.
‘We arenothingalike,Earth Cleaver.’
Fox shrugs infuriatingly. ‘If you say so. Although it seems you may have already found what I’ve been looking for.’
Fear strikes a chord in my chest. It skitters along the keys of an out-of-tune piano. It grows louder in my ears, building to a crescendo.
‘Really?’ I fight to keep my voice level. ‘And what’s that?’
It happens so fast. With one lightning-quick motion Fox has twisted the dagger out of my hand. With another he pulls me roughly against him and flips us round. My back slams into crystal and I gasp at the impact. I am pinned to the wall by his body, my own weapon gleaming at my throat.
The Earth Cleaver smiles down at me. A strand of dark hair falls into one of his eyes but he makes no effort to brush it away. I can feel the muscles in his legs, pressed up against mine, the solid planes of his chest as it rises and falls. I can feel his heart beating in time with my own. My whole body burns, and not just with hatred.
‘How long were you waiting to do that?’ I ask bitterly.
‘Around about the moment you drew this pretty little blade on me.’
A stab of anger. ‘Then what took you so long?’
Fox grins. ‘Oh, Storm Weaver. There’s just something about you holding a knife at my throat that makes my blood run hot.’
I seethe. There I was thinking I had him cornered, when all the while he was merely letting me. When all the while he wasenjoyingit.
I try to jerk one arm free, but he only presses me harder into the glistening wall. I struggle frantically underneath his weight, so much so that the blade nicks the soft skin on the underside of my throat. The brief spark of pain takes me by surprise. I stop fighting, slumping back against the wall as a single bead of blood slides slowly down my neck. Fox watches it for a moment. Then he leans in close, too close. And licks it away.
I’m so shocked that all I can do is blink. My voice seems to have got stuck on the way out. It takes me longer than I’d care to admit to find it again.
‘Get. Off. Me.’ Each word requires its own breath.
I’m afraid, and I’m angry. And I’m angry that I’m afraid.
Fox leans back until we are no longer touching. He cocks his head to one side, considering me. Then he takes the dagger and runs its tip gently down my neck, into the hollow between my collarbones.
I inhale sharply. I can’t move. I can’t form a single thought. My entire existence folds in on itself, reduced to nothing but the point at which the blade touches my skin, snaking lazilydown my chest. A flick of his wrist and the top button of my shirt is severed. Even the echoes seem to echo as it falls to the ground and ricochets across the floor.
‘You want to know what I’ve been looking for, Storm Weaver?’ Fox cuts the second button. And the third. ‘Well, I’ll let you in on a little secret.’ He lowers his voice to a whisper, leaning forward so that his lips almost brush against mine. ‘You’re wearing it.’
It’s as though the very world explodes around me, with everything splintering into sharp shards of crystal, cutting me to shreds.
Fox lifts the talisman from my chest with the tip of the dagger, drinking it in with eyes like cool green pools. ‘I knew it,’ he breathes.
I wait for the chain to snap, for him to yank it from my neck and slit my throat for good measure. Maybe a minute, maybe an hour passes like this, standing face-to-face with the Eye gleaming gold between us.
‘You can’t have it,’ I whisper. ‘It’s mine. I found it. Itwantedme to find it.’
There is a shift in the air as Fox’s eyes refocus on my face. He could take it right now, take it and leave me here to die, if he wanted to.
But he doesn’t.
‘I knew it,’ he says again. ‘I knew it was always meant to be you.’
My heartbeat patters like raindrops in my ears. There is a part of me, a strange, foolish part, that wants to trust him. I stamp down on it hard, crushing it with the heel of my boot.
‘Let me go.’
