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“A mouth as filthy as her mind, I see.”
Her eyes flicked up to mine, wild and angry as she shook out her hand, wincing from the pain, but she quickly positioned it up in front of her chest once more, tucking it closer to her body than the other one as she crouched and began to circle again.
“Impressive,” I said. “Who trains you?”
“None of your business.” She feigned coming for me with a few quick steps forward, then jumped quickly back—
Just not quickly enough. I shot my fist forward and connected with her cheek, sending her crashing backwards against a stack of boxes.
“Ow, fuck,” she cried, bringing her hand up to cup her face. She winced, then quickly righted herself, growling as she narrowed her eyes. “Is that all you got?”
Cute.
With a grin, I lunged for her and swept my leg, knocking her feet out from under her and sending her backwards onto her ass. A shame, seeing as how it was a lovely ass indeed, but if she wanted to fight, I’d give her that.
She hit the floor with a loud thud and the way she howled inside her head was nearly as deafening as the sound that tore from her lips. I grimaced, waiting for her to assess the damage so I could glean her pain through her thoughts.
Judging by her thoughts and pain level, I didn’t think she’d broken her tail bone, but it would definitely be bruised come morning.
“Are you finished?” I asked.
She bared her teeth in a snarl as she stood, trying to hide the wince of pain. “Not even close.”
I sighed. “Suit yourself.” Before she could even get her bearings back on her feet, I charged forward, then picked her up and spun toward the boxes, tossing her against them like a sack of flour. She wailed as she careened into them and tumbled to the ground.
“Fuck,” she cried, curling up into the fetal position. I struggled to block out her agony, but the pain was deafening inside her mind.
“Push me out of your head,” I commanded.
“I don’t know how,” she argued, her voice tight against the pain.
“Who trains you?”
She glared up at me from the floor, but didn’t answer. In her head, a song began, an old Christmas song her father used to love. He’d play it on repeat all season long.
“Your father loved that song—”
She winced and I instantly regretted the words.
But they spurred her on, renewed in her the need to fight me. I watched in awe as she rose to her feet and charged toward me, half-tempted to let her get another swing in but loathe to allow her to damage her fist more than she already had. A butcher needs their hands, and I would not allow her to injure herself further. She struck me as a woman who would not take well to being helpless.
She swung and I dodged easily out of the way, then grabbed her by the throat and spun her away from me. She hit the freezer hard, and I grimaced as she slumped down to her knees, breathing heavily.
“If you’re done—”
“Not until you’re dead,” she whispered.
My eyebrows rose and I tilted my head as I looked down at her. “Well then. Let’s get to it.”
She rose to her feet slowly, using the metal door of the freezer for leverage, and when she turned to face me once more, blood trickled from her mouth.
Bullocks.
The scent of her blood reached my nose and I inhaled greedily, cursing my thirst for the first time in years. I’d had it so under control, thanks to Franco, but one whiff of his daughter and I suddenly felt… well, a bit unhinged, really. One whiff of the sweet, coppery tang of her blood, the way my blood laced with hers to create the most pungent aroma that felt so very made for me, and I was damn near about to turn feral.
So focused on the way my resurrected thirst had caught me so off guard, I missed the play-by-play she scripted within her mind, so when she charged me, I wasn’t only unprepared but distracted enough not to keep myself from reacting merely on instinct.
She charged forward, and in the split second it took for me to notice, I batted her away like a fly—
