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“I don’t play games.”
“Then what are you doing?”
“Warning you.”
“Warning me,” he echoes. Sasha’s soft, cool fingers close over mine, and he presses the knife deeper. “Do you want me to learn how to protect myself?”
“Yes.”
That same smile from earlier crosses his face, and it’s not one I’ve seen him wear before. There’s nothing sweet or innocent about the way he’s looking at me now. And when he strains against my forearm pinning him, face moving closer to mine, I give him some leeway to see what he does next.
His voice is soft as a breeze, lips by my racing pulse, close enough to close teeth over it when he speaks again. “What if I told you that I learned that years ago?”
“I’d call you a liar.”
He hums, deep and husky. It’s a sound that calls to something primal in me. Something that I haven’t accessed in a really long time. “Maybe you’re the one who should be careful.”
I’d laugh at that ridiculous thought if I weren’t so confused about what’s happening with my body. When I’m on the hunt, everything slows. My thoughts, my heartbeat, my breathing. I’m in complete control. Somehow, the opposite is happening. I’ve got him overpowered, body pinned by mine, and everything should be slowing down, but my breath is struggling to reach my lungs, and the pulse thundering in my ears is making it hard to concentrate.
His other hand wraps around mine on the knife, and he redirects my hand to his waist instead. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. The soft, bare skin under my palm is calling me to squeeze, to drive my nails into his flesh and prove how weak he really is.
I’m so distracted by the fact that I’m touching him that I don’t notice him move until it’s too late.
Sasha has the point of my blade at my chin.
I freeze, less scared and more surprised, as my beloved knife breaks the skin.
It takes a full minute for the unfamiliar racing in my system to slow down, and as it does, my thoughts rearrange themselves into something that makes sense.
Sasha played me.
I’m furious with myself, but beyond that, I’m … impressed.
I open my mouth to say something, but I have no idea where to start. Where did the sweet little rabbit go?
“I guess I win this round?” he asks, voice like syrup as he looks up at me through his eyelashes.
It would be too easy to push back. Too easy to take my knife and make this a teaching moment, but for some reason, my body won’t cooperate. There’s what I should do and what I’m capable of doing, and those two things aren’t crossing.
“Well played.”
“Thank you.”
He doesn’t remove my knife, and a trail of blood slips down my collar. “I did warn you about touching my knives.”
“You did.”
“And you’re touching one.”
“I am.”
“You will pay for that.”
Finally, he lowers the weapon and returns it to my hand. “I’m looking forward to it.” Eyes searching mine, he adds, “Nightmares. That’s what keeps me up at night.”
My eyebrows pull close as Sasha slips out of my hold and heads in the direction of the fields. He’s still small and vulnerable and weak … but as I watch him walk away, I see something else there too. Something that I haven’t picked up on before.
Some animals don’t need muscle or armor. Just venom.
