Page 1 of Dangerous Promises

Prologue

Sage

His stormy gray eyes are like knives that pierce my skin. Like beacons that light up the night from where he stands, towering over me.

I shuffle backwards through the wet grass, pushing away with my elbows and heels, and still he follows. Tracing each step backward with precise calculation. Warm blood drops down my lip. It's only the motion of my tongue coming out to swipe it that takes his attention away from my eyes.

Alexei chuckles as he flips his knife in his hand. He's besting me and playing with me for sport. He always does. Every game we play ends the same way.

We're only steps away from the front gates of my family's estate. I chance a look back over my shoulder and escape is just as close as I think.

Alexei follows my gaze. "So close, princess? Going to run away and hide again?"

Our respective estates are the only places we're not technically allowed to fight our promise. Behind those gates is the only place he can't actually hurt me. Nor I him. I loathe to admit how often I have used the escape as my last resort.

He smirks, eyes full of hunger and hatred. "Giving up?"

As I breathe in the cool night air, I breathe in every ounce of hatred that I have with it. I want Alexei Rushkoff dead more than I want air in my lungs.

I brush my hair from my face, grinding my teeth as I jump off the ground and come swinging for him again. My first kick goes to his kneecap, dropping him to one knee. My second kick slams the knife out of his hand.

I see his trademark anger replace the smirk on his face when he reaches out to grab my foot, sending me down with him.

We're both quick to get back on our feet and run for each other again. He blocks two kicks that were heading straight for his groin, and when I go to strike him, he grabs my wrist and pulls my arm taut. I slam so close into him that I can smell him. Spirits and geranium. The heated burn of vodka that he expels with every breath.

My mouth opens at the pain of his grip on me.

"Is that all you got?" he says, jaw grinding.

It's not, but it's close. I can feel myself losing. Again.

Indignation at my predicament fuels me. I scratch my nails down his bicep, collecting his skin beneath my fingers. He shoves me away with a hiss, sending me stumbling into the wet grass as I slip in an attempt to move for his discarded knife.

I'm pulled back by the grip of tattooed fingers tightening around my arm. He pulls me roughly back into his orbit, securing my back to his front and wrapping his other hand around my neck.

His fingers tighten over my windpipe and I gape for breath. Though it's not hard enough to cut off my airway, I feel the pinch of it all the same.

"You fucking cut me with those claws of yours," he says, his voice a sinister whisper in my ear. With his hand on my neck I can't respond. I can only claw at his arms for release.

When that doesn't work, I thrust my elbow backwards, right into his stomach. Which unfortunately for me is hard as steel. And though he expels a breath, it's not enough to release his grip on me.

"Fuck... you..." I say, gasping for air as the rain continues to pelt my skin. He presses his lips to my ear in a way that seems gentle until he bares his teeth and bites down. Searing pain flashes through my core. On instinct, I knock my head backward, cracking our skulls together. It sends me delirious, but it does the same for him, and he grasps his head as he stumbles away.

I run for the knife, diving onto it, but as soon as I get it, he's there too. Wrestling it from my grip. He turns me around so we're face to face, holding me down as he crawls over me.

"Spoiled little fucking princess," he says, wrestling me into the grass.

My leg comes up to kick him away, but he reacts first, slicing a long line down my calf. I cry out as my leg goes weak and fresh blood pours onto my skin.

He holds the knife between his teeth, wide-spread palms holding me down by the shoulders. As his entire weight settles on me, I feel the fight leaving my body.

When I stop struggling, he does too, and all that's left is labored panting and a connected gaze.

What does he see when he looks at me? Is there hatred in my eyes or fear? I'm not even sure if I'm afraid. Every time we meet and fight, Alexei reminds me that my life is fragile and fleeting.And yet, I still cannot envision a future in which he beats me, even though he has shown me many times that he can.

He grabs my wrists and secures them over my head, taking the knife out of his mouth with his other hand.

"Now. You chased me tonight," he says. "Even when you think you are in control, you are not." He leans in until we're nose to nose. "Whatever you think you're planning. It will never be enough. You will always lose."