Page 21 of Secrets of the Six

"I am." He takes his stance once more, tossing his rapier from his right hand to his left. "Let's see if you can keep up."

As if he has been toying with me this entire time, the speed of which he moves accelerates and he becomes more aggressive in his attack.

I find myself on the defense – not at all what I'm used to.

I hop up onto the garden table where my pistols rest but make no attempt to grab them.

Salvador lunges forward.

I flip over him, slicing the back of his shirt as I land behind him.

Pointing my rapier at him, he slowly rotates to face me.

"Twice now I could have drawn blood, but I have restrained. Do you yield, Señor? You are clearly outmatched."

A laugh laced with predatorial danger escapes him. Those sharp and calculating eyes are pinned on mine and it's almost as if he is now allowing me to read every thought running through his mind. I've not only surprised him, but I've ruffled his feathers, intrigued him, and dare I say, impressed him with my skill. He's most likely not used to anyone, much less a woman, besting him with a blade.

Victory over him will taste delicious.

His head slants to the side and dark locks fall over his forehead with the motion. "You're quite cocky, Vibora."

The pet name used to bother me, but tonight, it invigorates me. "I believe I've earned the right to be cocky."

"What is the old proverb" – he stabs his rapier into the ground and fiddles with his black leather gloves – "pride comes before a fall?"

There's a slight uptick in the corner of my mouth. "Something like that."

He tucks his boot beneath the tip of his sword and kicks it upward, catching it and pointing it at me. "Prepare to fall."

Slicing downward, I barely manage to block him in time.

He whips around me, not deterred by the defensive maneuver. As he spins, he slices his blade across my upper thigh, ripping into my pants.

Before I have a second to examine the tear, he slashes in several strategic places across my bodice.

I twist to face him, and the sudden movement dislodges the fabric of my shirt. The pieces scatter across the ground, exposing my torso.

Thankfully, my long locks cover my breasts – denying his hungry gaze from a sight that would no doubt be imprinted in his brain for the rest of his life.

I aim to retaliate.

He pops my rapier from my grasp and presses his forearm to my chest, pinning me to the very stone wall I attempted to scale minutes ago.

Our breathing is labored – not from exertion, we're far too active to be exhausted from a few minutes of sparring – but because of how close we are to one another.

His face is within inches of mine and his lips hover temptingly above mine. His sleeve is barely hanging on from where I cut it but the damage pales in comparison to me being half-naked. His forearm hasn't moved from its place just above my breasts where my heart thunders beneath his touch. To his credit, his eyes haven't dipped lower than my chin.

My skin suddenly feels as if I've been set aflame under his scrutinizing, unwavering gaze. At this point, I'm not sure if I'm attracted to him or just full-blown enraged that he managed to beat me, but before I can sift through my true thoughts and feelings, he leans closer until his mouth grazes the tip of my ear.

"Yield" – he growls, his sultry voice drips like honey in my ear – "or you'll be walking inside naked."

"You wouldn't be the first man to see me naked, Señor."

My sarcasm draws him back, propelling him to take two steps away from me and press the tip of his blade between my breasts.

Slowly, tantalizing, he swirls the steel in my hair before dragging the tip down the center of my stomach, past my belly button, and settles at the top of the waistband of my trousers.

I pant, chest rising and falling under the wicked gleam in his eyes.