Ilsa stared at me as I straightened. She was still in an attack stance, but her eyes widened as I growled. I was on her before she had a chance to react, tackled her to the floor and clasped my hands around her neck. She lashed out at me, swiping at my arms and face with the knife over and over again, each cut burning and searing my skin and sending a vibrant stinging pain through my being and stirring my demon. The wounds would heal, albeit not as fast as regular ones.
She ceased the relentless slashing only when I roared in frustration and removed a hand from her neck, snatching at her wrist and slamming her hand against the floor repeatedly until she dropped the knife. I’ll give her credit where credit was due, it took a hell of a lot of force to get her to let go of the weapon.
She shouldn’t test me. I could break her wrist as easily as snapping my fingers if I wanted to.
Ilsa was losing control of her composed exterior, her initial attack had been plotted, planned, and born, I’m sure, from training. But the mad slicing with a blade? That didn’t seem like her style.
She was panicking.
These innocent people she talked about—didn’t she realize she was one of them?
Doesn’t she see Icouldhave killed her during our last encounter, but I didn’t? Isn’t that enough for her to know I’m not out to hurt random humans? Apparently not, and I let my eyes slide into yellow when there was another spike of anger. The clarity of my vision increased as I stared at the woman between my thighs, her neck in my hands. She was bucking her hips against me, digging her nails into my arms.
Something crossed over her eyes, and her body language shifted. In one swift move, Ilsa wrapped her right leg around my waist and pulled hard on my right ear while her other hand grasped my face and her thumb pressed into a soft spot under my chin I didn’t even know existed. My head was yanked to the side at the same time she bucked her hips, and using her leg, she maneuvered me off her.
Christ,I thought as I hit the floor. What an overreaction.
It’s not like I was going to kill her. Only choke her until she passed out, and I could finish my work here in peace.
I made a mental note not to underestimate her again.
Once on top of me, she brought her hands between my arms and forced me to release my hold on her neck. The element of surprise sure helped, and I relinquished my hold on her. I dropped my arms to the floor and paused before calmly folding my hands behind my head. Above me, her chest heaved with every breath. I could almost see the adrenaline pumping through her veins and smell it in her blood. My pupils dilated with the thought of her life’s blood and the idea of it on my tongue. I wondered what she’d taste like, if she would give me a greater high than other humans, and if I could absorb some of that anger and angst.
My relaxed pose seemed to disarm her, and she frowned. When she reached into her back pocket, I snatched at her arms, not in the mood for another assault with silver. The tingle of metal on metal sounded against my ear drums, and I laughed.
“Handcuffs? Oooh, baby,” I cooed.
“I’m arresting you,” Ilsa said as she brought her breathing into line and snapped one of the cuffs over my wrist. I let her, lifting my arms between us while she straddled me and allowed her to cuff the other wrist. The deepening frown etched on her forehead told me she knew my compliance was a trap, but she was still tied by some inner duty to do the right thing.
Sitting up, I brought my handcuffed wrists between us, my eyes flashing at the way hers widened at the closeness of our bodies. Fuck, she radiated such heat. Not only from the fight but simply her body pulsing so near to mine. I must have denied myself a fuck for too long because I wanted to take her so bad.
So, I did something crazy.
Crazy was kind of my calling card anyway.
ILSA
It took me longer than it should have to realize Ray had snapped the chain on the handcuffs. I was trained, and while I’d come out of practice much faster than I thought I would, I certainly should’ve heard the telltale crack of a chain snapping. You didn’t need to be a weapons expert to know that sound.
Especially since it occurred behind my head.
No, I heard it, but it just didn’t register.
Because I was otherwise distracted.
While I was still on top of her, after she sat up and made some snide remark, she hadletme handcuff her. I had seen what she could do, and while I bit the inside of my cheek, knowing this was a trap of some sort, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to cuff her on the off chance I read the situation wrong and maybe she felt remorse.
Yeah, right.
What exactly had been my plan? I wasn’t sure. I didn’t think I wanted to kill her, but I did want her to stop this mad reign she had taken up against the city. So, arresting and handing her to the authorities seemed right. They could deal with her then, and she wouldn’t be my problem anymore.
Because somehow, Ray had become my problem.
But the sound of the chain snapping escaped my attention because after she had looped her arms over my shoulders, my adrenaline had peaked again when I thought she was going to strangle me. I had relaxed slightly around her, becoming lax when I normally wouldn’t, definitely being more complacent than I should be in the presence of a demon. Lured into a false sense of security Ray wouldn’t harm me because she had let me go before. But it was hard not to be fooled—coupled with the effect she apparently had on my hormonal and instinctual response—for whatever reason, I simply didn’t feel unsafe around her.
Somehow, I knew Ray wouldn’t hurt me.
Much.