Page 303 of Primal

She flinches.

“Do it,” I rasp, guiding the blade to my shoulder. “Right here.”

Her eyes widen. “No! What—”

I surge forward, driving us both into the tree. The knife sinks in—a white-hot punch below my collarbone.

Blood wells hot, streaming over my chest.

“Fuck,” she breathes. “No, no, no …”

“That’s right, little fox.” My forehead to hers. Our noses brushing. “Wanna play with monsters? Be the monster. But you don’t get to”—my hand covers hers, shoving the blade deeper—“wear. Her. Face.”

“It’s me, Kade. God, why’d you …”

The world snaps into focus. Vanilla and salt buried under the rot.

The knife twists—her doing or mine, who fucking knows—and the pain cleaves me in half.

“No,” Payton sobs, wrenching the knife free.

Blood arcs between us.

I slump against the tree, pressing a hand to my shoulder. The wound’s clean. Straight through. I’ll live.

For now.

“Are you insane?”

I grin, tasting copper. “Needed my medicine.”

She places both hands over my wound. Presses harder. Blood seeps between her fingers.

“Should’ve taken you to dinner instead.”

“Crazy bastard,” she whispers.

I catch her wrist. “Did I hurt you?”

Her laugh is half-sob. “You stabbed yourself.”

“Not what I asked.”

“I’m fine.”

Lie.

She’s trembling. Pulse wild.

She yanks at her tank top.

Now her stomach’s bare. And the rest of her—

“Hold this,” she pants, jamming the wadded cotton into my shoulder.

I grab her face instead. “Say it again.”

“What?”