Page 108 of Hellbound

Her blade rang against the shaft of his spear upon impact.

In a blink, he was behind her.

She spun around.

Too slow—a side swipe of his leg into her torso sent her skidding across the ring.

A scream was building at the back of her throat. He was holding back.

“Your impatience is a liability.”

With economical precision, he closed down her openings of attack and escape, one by one, and put her on the defensive.

Every parry sent her backward, getting closer and closer to the edge of the ring.

She needed an escape from his onslaught.

The sharp point of his spear pierced the air above her head. Sliced the fabric of her tunic. Just a show of how her own parry was too slow to match him.

He was toying with her, and she could feel her blood roiling in response.

“And when you’re angry, which is almost always, you make even more mistakes.”

The butt end of his polearm punched her in the gut to prove his point. She wheezed and fixed him with a vicious glare as she toed the bronzed line of the sparring ring.

She spared a look—big mistake.

His firm hand gripped the back of her head sharply, twisting through her black locks and forcing her into a kneeling position.

The tip of his spear was ice-cold against the column of her neck.

She strained against his hand. Caromir, white-knuckled in her grip, was useless now.

He ignored her, his hand wrenching her head back so he could peer down at her.

Beneath him, Ksenia was breathless and flushed, unraveling as the memories of their little tryst in the rain were renewed.

His grip was crushing, and her back arched to prevent him from snapping her neck.

She saw herself from his perspective: chest heaving, eyes promising violence but hazy with something carnal.

“How will you get out of this?”

A sharp intake of breath. “Fuck you.”

“Wrong response.” His grip tightened, forcing her into a back-breaking arch.

“Fuck y—ou,” she growled, her eyes clenched from the pain, her hands and fingernails digging into his, trying to pry him off her scalp.

Bloody scratches emerged on his exposed wrist, but he didn’t flinch. She expected Bohdan to be a patient man—now she was learning how much he’d endure to get what he wanted as he continued to let her struggle.

Her pride was bruised as the words ripped from her mouth. “I—concede!”

Bohdan clicked his tongue, letting her go.

His eyes traced her body and face, subdued before him.

Ksenia dragged her head forward, slamming her hands onto the ground in front of her, gasping for air and composure.