I don't really have an answer to that.
"Don't fight in the tournament," she says, stepping away. "It needs more time."
"I'm not."
She starts cleaning up, disposing of the used supplies. I stay seated, watching her move around the small room.
"Your Albanian keepers. Where are they now?" I ask.
She stiffens, her back to me. "Fuck if I know. I don't belong to them. Or anyone."
I smile. "So if shit goes south right now, they wouldn't rush in to save you?"
She turns slowly, eyes flashing with anger. "I wouldn't need them."
My pulse ticks.
Before I can think about it, I'm up and on her, pinning her against the wall. My forearm braces beside her head, my other hand wrapped around her throat, our bodies inches apart.
"You sure about that?" I ask, moving my face close to hers.
Her chest rises and falls rapidly, but there's no fear in her eyes, only defiance and something else, something darker.
She doesn't move. Just stares at me.
And then she surprises the hell out of me.
Her hand moves. Fast.
One grabs my cock through my shorts with enough pressure to make me gasp.
At the same time, her other hand produces a scalpel from God knows where, and I glance down as she presses it against my side, dangerously close to what she's grabbing.
"Let go of me," she says, voice low, "if you want to keep your dick attached."
My cock twitches in her hand.
Jesus fucking Christ.
She feels it. I know she does.
We stare at each other, breathing hard. Her hand is still on me, and despite the threat, despite the blade at my side, the fire in her eyes is intoxicating.
I lift my hands slowly and step back, keeping them raised in a surrender position. She releases me but keeps her expression focused.
"You should thank my sister, you know," I say, aware of my growing arousal. "Her words convinced me to leave you alone. Said you'd suffered enough."
Lyra doesn't respond. She just stares at me, jaw clenched, eyes sharp, scalpel still in hand, her chest heaving slightly.
We look at each other for a moment and I turn and walk out, adjusting myself as I go. By the time I'm halfway down the hall, I'm laughing under my breath at the absurdity of it all. How the hell am I leaving the presence of a woman who threatened to cut off my dick with a rock-hard erection.
And the worst part is, I'm not sure if my body wants to fuck her or if my mind just wants her gone.
9
LYRA
"Move! Get out of my way!"
