Page 84 of Saints & Sinners

He sighed when he realized that I wouldn’t do as he said and set his blade down on the table beside him. “If you wanted a blade that would do actual harm, you should have chosen another.”

I frowned, glancing at the golden dagger in my hands. The blade was zigzagged but hardly sharpened at the end.

“The most damage that can be done with that is putting someone to sleep. You should know that by now from yoursecond lesson.”

I straightened, holding my chin up high as if choosing that blade was on purpose all along. “Like I said. You. Owe. Me a lesson.”

He didn’t say anything. He just stared at me in complete silence like he was daring me to go ahead with it.

I lunged first, my frustration fueling every swing, but he blocked each attack effortlessly like he usually would. It only spurred me on, and I fought harder, putting as much effort as I could into each of my movements—into each thrust of the dagger I’d learned from him.

“Again,” he instructed, his voice steady, almost bored.

I huffed, closing my eyes and drawing a deep breath before my gaze locked on his. With all the force I could muster, I struck quickly. The fluidity of the motion felt right, but Hunter dodged at the last second, eyeing me like he was a predator playing with his prey.

A huntsman and his fawn.

“Use your legs,” he taunted, ducking as I complied, and anger surged in my chest. I closed my eyes again, steadying my breath. Joe. The Riftkeeper’s. Our kiss. All of it flashed in my mind, feeding that frustration just a bit more each time. Without thinking, I gripped the dagger in my hand tighter and aimed it directly at Hunter’s throat.

His hand clamped down on my wrist, stopping me before I could make contact. Our chests matched the upheaval of each breath as our eyes met. His expression softened, and something a lot like pride flickered in his gaze just for one moment. “Not bad, Bambi,” he breathed, his eyes tracking the movement of my tongue darting out to lick my lips.

The space between us was suddenly too small. We both knew that, yet we didn’t let go or step away from each other.

“Why did you let me leave?” I whispered.

He knew what I meant. He could even crush me with just one look if he wanted to, yet he was staring back at me like I was the one who might break him. “You know why.”

“Maybe I don’t care.” There was a whole different meaning to those words. I cared enough not to ruin him, but I also just wanted to be near him. “You want me just as much as I want you.”

He shook his head. “You don’t get it, do you?” His voice was raw and desperate. “I don’t just want you, Grace—I fucking need you. And that scares the shit out of me.”

I blinked, my chest heaving with his admission. It was all I wanted—neededto hear.

“You make me want to be something better,” he whispered, voice rough at the edges, sending me almost into oblivion. “And I don’t know how to be that.”

“Then don’t be.”

Hunter’s gaze darkened, and before I could think, his hands were on my waist, pulling me closer as the dagger dropped out of my hand. Everything after that was a blur of heat and desperation as his lips found mine. The kiss was nothing like the other night. It was rough and consuming, as if he was trying to erase every line we’d drawn between us.

He couldn’t get enough of me, and neither could I get enough of him. I molded perfectly into his hold, his touch, and his warmth. I didn’t want this to stop, not like it did last time. I wanted it to continue until neither of us could breathe.

I was lifted onto a nearby table, his hands roaming over my body as mine clung to him, desperate for more.

“This is a mistake,” he murmured against my skin, his voice strained as his bottom lip trailed my neck.

I tilted my head back, giving him easier access, his hands exploring every inch of me. “A terrible mistake.”

“We should stop.”

I shook my head, breathless. “Please don’t.”

He didn’t.

I felt the strength in his grip tighten as he lifted me higher against the table, his body pressing against mine in a way that left no space between us. He slid his hand under the hem of my training shirt, the roughness of his palms setting every nerve in my body ablaze. I gasped as he pulled the fabric over my head and tossed it aside. The cool air from the armory hit my skin, but it was nothing compared to the warmth that radiated from him.

“Grace,” he said, his voice barely audible as his grey eyes locked onto mine, searching for something—permission, assurance, I wasn’t sure. Either way, I answered him with a kiss, pouring every emotion I couldn’t put into words with the press of my lips against his. I lifted his shirt over his head, and my hands immediately went to his chest, feeling the taut muscles contract beneath my touch.

His fingers skimmed along my sides, sending shivers down my spine as they slid beneath the waistband of my trousers. He paused for a fraction of a second, his forehead resting against mine before he claimed my lips again, deeper this time.

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