Page 78 of Bound to the Dreadlord

She should hate it.

I take a dagger from my belt and throw it at her feet.

She jumps back. Predictable.

"Pick it up," I say.

Her gaze flickers between the blade and me, lips parting slightly, hesitation curling at the edges of her defiance.

"Why?"

I step forward. Just enough to make her feel it. The difference in power.

"You are weak," I murmur, voice low, deliberate. "And I have no use for weak things."

She bristles.

Not just with fear. Not just with anger. Something else.

Something that makes my blood stir.

Her fingers twitch. For a second, I think she’ll refuse.

Slowly, she bends, fingers wrapping around the hilt of the dagger.

That’s when it happens.

A flicker.

A ripple between us.

The blade trembles.

Not much. Not enough for her to notice. But I do.

My entire body locks, my magic coiling deep in my veins.

Did she?—?

No.

Not possible.

Her grip tightens, and the moment is gone.

I step forward. "Again."

She frowns. "What?"

"Do it again."

Confusion flickers in her gaze. "Do what?"

She doesn’t realize.

I don’t answer. Instead, I move.

My arm lashes out, striking toward her. She gasps, barely dodging in time, the dagger slipping in her grasp.

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