Page 44 of The Darkness Within Us

I run as a laugh escapes from my lips.

Not nearly fast enough.

Eryx grips me by the waist, spins me to face him, hoists me over his shoulder, and marches me across the room. I notice that Argus and Dyson have both left their positions by the wall. They’re halfway to us before Eryx waves them off.

“I’m fine,” he says to them.

That makes one of us.

“Put me down at once!” I insist, smacking at his back.

Eryx dumps me onto the nearest sofa, flat on my back. My hair has come free in the scuffle, and as I try to get it out of my eyes, I feel the world tip sideways.

Because he’s pushed the entire sofa back on two feet before letting it fall. I roll off the backrest in a tumble before coming to a stop a few feet away.

Eryx’s grin is dark as he reaches down a hand to help me up. I’m trapped between him and the floor, but that doesn’t stop me. I take his arm, only to pull him to the ground beside me. I use his body to shove myself upward, but he catches my arms, and I land sprawled over the top of him.

“You fight dirty,” Eryx says, capturing my flailing limbs so I can’t hit him. Though I can’t see his face, I feel a smile in the words. “You would have done well in the army.”

“This is not gentlemanly behavior! Release me.”

“You started it. I’m merely finishing it.”

“You will not come out on top!”

“Won’t I?”

He rolls our bodies so that I am tucked underneath his long, strong form. His messy hair spills around his face.

“I did not mean that literally. Get off me!”

“Not until you surrender.”

“Never.”

I try to buck him off, but it does nothing. He has me thoroughly pinned. I glare up at him, finding his eyes a glowing, wolfish amber. Interesting, since I’ve only noticed them surfacing before when he was angry.

He’s not angry now. No, he’s playful, if anything. Playful and… something else.

His face is very close to mine.

“If you expect these lessons to continue, you need to stop being an ass,” I say, irritated that he is winning the scuffle.

But it’s as if Eryx doesn’t hear me. He’s staring at me with the most peculiar expression upon his face. It’s almost surprise? As though he just now realized who was underneath him. Who he’s deliberately annoying.

He does a sweep of my face, starting with my chin and ending at my hairline. When his eyes rest on mine again, he says, “If ever you find yourself in this position again, Duchess, go for the eyes or throat.”

“If you ever try something like this again—”

“I don’t mean me. We are jesting with each other, aren’t we? I mean, if you ever come up against someone who truly means you harm. Eyes or throat or groin. The vulnerable parts of a man.”

I don’t know what to say in return. Is he givingmea lesson now? I’m not about to thank him when he’s still on top of me, despite my requests that he shove off. I wriggle underneath him, trying to free myself, but the movement seems to do something to him.

His eyes are burning, they shine so bright, and he’s gone very, very still.

For one brief moment, I forget who he is and who I am. I take note of things I never have before. Like the fact that he smells like the earth after a rainstorm. The natural wave to his hair. The bob in his throat. The way his bright eyes make the rest of his features sharper. More masculine. I can see the curve of muscles in his arms as he uses them to prop himself above me.

Like a lover.

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