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I screamed before kicking him in the gut. He started coughing and I smiled. “I’m thinking of the most efficient way to kill you. I’m thinking of how easily I could snap your neck. I’m thinking it’s either you or me. My job isn’t done until my attacker is dead. And you know the most terrible part, Leo? It doesn’t even feel like I’m the one thinking these things. But I am. This is who I am.”
“You can turn it off,” Leo said through clenched teeth. “I saw you do it with the queen.”
“I can turn it off. But then I’m just weak little Christine Abernathy getting raped by a lord and commanded by the Crown.”
Leo grabbed my throat and slammed me to the ground. I sputtered in shock as years of training crawled up my throat like acid, burning me up from the inside out. Never let your guard down, Christine.
I kicked and fought. He held me. The more trapped I felt, the more lethal I became. Soon, I wouldn’t be in control of my own mind. Instinct and adrenaline were a powerful thing.
Until his lips found mine. Until I wrapped my legs around his waist and moaned.
He flipped my anger on its head and attacked me with a wet kiss filled with hot longing. Leo kissed me harder, deeper, and with a fervent, urgent need that completely consumed me. I felt devoured at that moment. Sugary-sweet, his kisses contradicted the surly expression cemented on his face. I knotted my fist in his shirt, forcing every ounce of my attention to fall onto his lips.
Kiss. Kiss. Dirty. Fucking. Kiss.
His hand reached down and cupped my thigh as I curled around him. It was too much. I couldn’t stand feeling so needy, not when just seconds before I was on the edge of murdering this man. My veins throbbed. I could feel him everywhere. Hard body on mine. Against an unyielding soul, my tongue tangled. Fuck you, Leo. Fuck you for kissing me.
“What are you thinking about now?” Leo asked as he pulled away. I didn’t dare open my mouth. I didn’t want to admit the power he wielded. Leo Winthrop controlled me with nothing more than a kiss. A melting kiss. A destructive kiss. “I think we can work with that,” he whispered, the corner of his bruised lip curled up in amusement.
I reared back to hit him in the face, but he caught my fist before it could land on him. “Should I kiss you again?” Leo asked, taunting me. I felt like a teen again, being teased by this handsome man. “Remember when I used to sneak chocolate into your room, Christine?” he asked as I wiggled out of his grip and stood up. Out. I needed out. My conflicting dispositions made my head pound with uncertainty.
“Did you have a crush on me then?” I asked, flipping the switch. “I was what, sixteen? You were twenty-three. What kind of pervert slips into a sixteen-year-old’s bedroom at midnight?”
Leo was an honorable man. Even if we’d occasionally flirted, he would have never crossed that line with an underaged girl. But I wasn’t underaged now. I met that ridiculous finish line of eighteen, where the law determined I was legally fuckable. “You know it wasn’t like that,” Leo argued before wrapping his hands around my waist and yanking me to the ground.
“It wasn’t?” I asked, testing him. “Because I remember touching myself to thoughts of you.” As I said this, I parted my thighs so he could settle between them. Shock registered across his face first, then shame, then unbridled lust.
One of the first lessons I learned was to mimic my opponents’ attacks. Leo started a war when he kissed me.
“I feel how much you want me, Leo. Is this your kink? You want to fuck a murderer?”
He pulled back. I laughed.
I reared back and punched him, and this time, I didn’t miss. Leo’s head rocked back. Yep. Got you, fucker. He reached for my wrists, and I struggled to move. His muscular body had me pinned. His hair had fallen out of its bun. Drops of sweat collected on his brow. One wrong move. One mistake.
Struggle and reach. He released my wrist and tried to grab the blade from my fingers. My pinky finger bent at an awkward angle, making my eyes widen in pain. I’d broken my finger too many times from punching the brick walls of Hudson’s home. Learning to take a hit was a lesson my father taught me, and my training taught me how to land one.
The weak bone seared with pain.
“Shit. Did I just break your finger?” Leo stopped immediately. Weak. He was weak. Never quit. Never surrender. It’s you or them, Christine.
Every pained instinct within me urged me to scream out in agony. But I didn’t. No, I was too well trained for that. Not a single tear was shed. Not a single tremble. I wasn’t me right now; I was the person I had to become to survive. “It’s fine.”
Leo got off me. “Let me look at it,” he said while reaching for my finger.
“We aren’t done fighting,” I growled.
“What did you think this was, Christine? A fight to the fucking death? Let me look at your finger!”
I pulled away and got up before lunging for my knives. Leo stopped me. Pain erupted in my side as I was tackled to the ground. “Look at me,” Leo said. A cloud of rage filled my vision. “Look!”
I snarled and writhed. I felt like a rabid animal.
“What did he do to you?” was the last thing I heard before hands wrapped around my throat. Seconds passed as I fought and clawed. And then, I blacked out.
Chapter Nine
AUGUST
