Action time.
Chapter 8
Max
Darkness shrouds the room as the door clicks shut behind me. Not even the ambient glow from appliances cuts through the inky black.
Nika killed all the lights.
Smart.
Hunching down, I ease my pack from my shoulder and onto the floor by the wall. I can surmise that this penthouse suite features a sitting area, dining area, and a kitchen.
Creeping forward, I trip over a soft, curled object.
Fuck.
The air pressure changes as a low, fast-moving shadow arcs toward my ribs.
I twist in the nick of time. The blade slices my shirt, parting fabric instead of flesh.
I manage to seize her wrist, and we collide, our bodies slamming together with a force that jars my bones.
She’s surprisingly solid, all coiled muscle and momentum.
My eyes fight to adjust to the minuscule sliver of light seeping in from under the door. I try to use her speed against her, but Nika’s two paces ahead.
Her free hand aims a palm strike at my jaw.
Pain jolts up my arm and shoulder as I block with my forearm and shove her back.
She releases a muffled grunt as she catches herself on furniture—the couch, maybe—and rebounds. Nika flies at me again, her pale arms barely visible through the gloom.
This time, I’m ready.
I meet her head-on, snag her knife hand, and drive forward. We crash into furniture, and I get tangled up in some hard object that digs into my shins.
Wood splinters in a sharp crack, and glass crunches under my boots.
I clutch her wrist, forcing the knife away and pushing her arm up and back.
As she dodges the mess, her knee comes fast and vicious for my groin.
I rotate and take the painful blow on my thigh instead. Damn. If she’d landed that hit as intended, she might have gelded me.
“Watch where you’re aiming, Nika,” I huff out. “We can’t have any fun if you break the merchandise.”
She scoffs, her muscles tensing under my grip. “Don’t be a pig.”
Her arm twists, and I pivot to maintain my grasp. I can’t release her. The moment I do, she’ll disappear into the dark again, or that blade will find me.
The faint scent of roses encompasses me.
Her breathy pants as she jerks to free herself tells me that she enjoys this.
She’s as aroused as I am.
Using my grip on her wrist as an anchor point, she plants her foot and throws her weight backward.
