Page 145 of Hellbound

Did you smell me on your bed? On your clothes?

Did you find my little gift in your journal?

Do you suspect I know your dirty little feelings for me?

His jaw clenched with horrible realization.

He pushed her off, and she nimbly landed a few feet back in a fighting stance.

“Come on then, let’s get this over with.” She twirled the rapier once. “And when I win, I want the entire week off, not just five days.”

“Confident,” he clipped.

“I prefer inspired.” She circled him slowly, with predatory grace in every step. “After all, I know what keeps you up at night now, don’t I?”

The line of his shoulders stiffened.

“And somehow, I don’t think it’s the killer…” She tapped her index finger against her chin, a glint in her eye.

His grip tightened on his sword. “Careful, Senka.”

“So you’ve said, multiple times.” She tilted her head. “What will you do about it? Put me in my place? Lock me up? Torture me till I confess?” She smiled, sharp and bright.

She lunged forward, their blades meeting in a screech of steel. Her face was inches from his, her breath warm against his jaw.

“You’d get off on that, wouldn’t you, Captain?”

He stilled.

She was turning his vulnerabilities into a weapon.

His breathing hitched—barely audible, but she caught it. Something dark and dangerous flickered across his face before he could wipe his expression clean.

He shoved her back harder this time.

Ksenia had cornered him. If he beat her resoundingly, he might look desperate to punish her. If he lost, it would be because he didn’t have the guts to beat the truth out of her.

Either way, he was playing her game.

His blade cut wide arcs, forcing her to give ground with each parry. Her rapier was a poor choice against his sword’s overwhelming reach and power.

Every time she tried to create distance for a proper attack, his blade was there, driving her back.

He hooked his leg behind hers, then slammed his hand down hard against her shoulder.

Air punched through her lungs as she hit the ground with force, her rapier clattering from her hand.

The tip of his sword buried into the floor by her neck, and she rolled away in time to avoid having her throat slashed.

He bore down on her, pinning her hand. “Yield.”

“No.” She gritted her teeth as she thrust her hips up against him, her free hand fisted in his collar, wrenching him sideways.

It was enough.

She twisted, reversing their positions before springing to her feet with unnatural speed, recollecting her weapon.

Sharp, precise strikes forced Bohdan to adjust his guard.