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She snaps her gaze to her hand, and her eyes go wide as fucking dinner plates as she realizes what she has done by pulling the blade out of the fence. True fear and panic crash over her features. Whipping her gaze back to me, she drops the knife as if it had burned her.
“Please,” she whispers.
I advance on her. She tries to back farther away, but the fence is stopping her retreat. A whimper slips past her lips as I reach her.
For a few seconds, I just stand there, towering over her while she tries desperately to shrink into the fence.
Then I crouch down and pick up the knife she dropped. After standing up, I wipe the blade on my pants and then slide it back into its sheath.
I raise my hand.
Alina squeezes her eyes shut.
But all I do is to wrap my fingers around the other throwing knife and yank it out of the fence. It comes free with a faint pop.
“Look at me,” I order.
After dragging in a steadying breath, she opens her eyes. Her gaze darts between my face and the knife still in my hand. Then her eyes find mine and she keeps them there.
“We agreed to walk away,” she says, her voice coming out surprisingly steady.
I cock my head, studying her. The fear is draining from her features with every second. Fascinating. I wonder what it was that convinced her that I’m not actually going to kill her for pulling the knife out of the fence.
“No, you said that we should walk away,” I correct her. “I never agreed to anything.”
She purses her lips in an adorable show of annoyance and disapproval.
“And besides, you said one angry violent fuck, and then we walk away.” I draw my free hand over her collarbones, watching with satisfaction as a shiver rolls through her small body, before I trail my fingers up her throat. “And I never fucked you.”
She clicks her tongue and jerks her chin away before I can grab it. “Asshole.”
Letting my hand drop from her throat, I level a sharp look on her. “What was that?” I raise my other hand and spin the knife so that the hilt is facing upwards before I flick a pointed look down at her body. “Did you want me to do something to your asshole?”
Her mouth drops open, and her stunned gaze darts between my face and the hilt of the blade.
I give her a warning look. “Answer me, little doe.”
She drops her gaze to my boots and shakes her head. “No. I’m sorry.”
A smug chuckle rolls off my tongue, and I drink in the sight of her submissive posture. “Thought so.”
I let the silence stretch, waiting to see if she will dare to raise her head again without permission. She doesn’t. As usual, she doesn’t fight battles that she can’t win. Smart. Very smart. And a tactic that will keep her alive in this violent, blood-soaked world of ours.
Lifting my free hand again, I trace two fingers down the center of her chest while I twirl the knife in my other hand. Her pulse quickens along with her breathing, but she doesn’t look up.
I draw my fingers around the curve of her tit, noting that she’s not wearing a bra underneath her shirt today either. Alina bites her bottom lip, but keeps her eyes on my boots.
My fingers circle around her nipple until she’s dragging in unsteady breaths. If I touched her cunt right now, I’m certain that I would find it soaked. But I don’t. Because I’m here to humiliate her.
So instead, I pinch her nipple between my thumb and forefinger.
A whimper spills from Alina’s lips.
I roll the hard peak between my fingers until she’s squirming against the wooden fence. Then I pull towards me. Her tit stretches until I release her nipple. But I keep the grip on her shirt.
Pulling the fabric out so that it forms a little tent, I raise the knife in my other hand and then cut off the top of it.
At last, Alina snaps her gaze up from the ground.
