Page 220 of Inferno

“And this one?” he asks.

I grab a fourth and press the tip to my palm, feeling the sharp kiss of metal, just enough to sting.

“This one’s for me,” I whisper. “For every time I flinched. Every time I begged. Every time I stayed quiet while he broke me.”

I hurl it with everything I’ve got. It slams dead center, splitting the wood slightly.

Declan’s breathing hard now. Matching mine. There’s no air between us, just heat and tension and the throb of something violent.

He reaches for my waist.

“This time will be different. You’re not the same woman who escaped before, are you?” he murmurs.

“No,” I say, eyes locked on the knives. “I’m the one who’s going to make him bleed. I’m angrier now than I ever have been.”

I feel his fingers slide up my side. “Show me. Teach me how to throw like that.”

I smile and pick up a blade and press the hilt into his hand.

“I’ll show you,” I whisper, stepping in until we’re chest to chest. “But you better keep up, soldier. I don’t train soft.”

His grip tightens on the knife.

“Good. Because I don’t want soft. I only like it hard.” He winks, and my stomach flips.

I guide his hand, pressing the blade against my thigh, not hard, but enough to feel it.

“Then don’t flinch,” I say, my voice dripping with challenge. “Because if you do, I win.”

Chapter 85

DECLAN

She takes a step back with a naughty glimmer in her eye. The blade, now in my grasp, ready and waiting for me to throw.

“Show me what I’m working with,” she orders with her hand firmly on her hip.

Sizing up the target, I throw it, and it hits, the blade digging into the wall, but quite a few inches from her attempts.

“Hmm.”

She taps her finger against her lips, her eyes roaming my body.

“Take your shirt off.”

I don’t move; instead, I tilt my head with an amused smirk.

“Now.”

The command in her voice does something to me, something primal. I pull the shirt over my head and drop it to the floor. The cabin air is cold, but her gaze on my skin is fire. It always is.

She steps into my space, close enough that her breath grazes my throat. She presses the tip of the knife just beneath my collarbone, and I suck in a breath.

“You think I won’t bleed for you, sweetheart?” I look down at her.

“Trust me?” she asks, but it’s not sweet. It’s a threat. A dare.

“I’d let you cut my fucking heart out,” I say.

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