Page 7 of Princess of Bael
A growl clawed at my throat as the knife in my hand burned with my anger. His lips parted, words curling around his tongue as he began to speak. But I wasn’t interested in anything he had to say now.
I only wanted blood.
I threw my knife at him, the aim deadly and meant to pierce his chest. Because I wanted him to feel my pain. To understand what it was like to have his heart shredded.
Just like he’d done to me.
Only, the bastard caught my weapon by the blade, his movements still incredibly fast.
I knew better than to try to flame him and instead pulled out another throwing knife.
He dropped the one in his hand to catch the new one, his blood an alluring sight.
“Kayla?” he asked, sounding stunned more than angry. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Well, I used to live here,” I reminded him. “Until someone tricked me into a mating bond and left me in Hell.”
I threw a third knife.
He caught it as well, then tossed it back at me, causing the sharp end to dig into my shoulder. “I see you’re still as immature as ever.” The disappointment in his voice grated on my nerves.
“Fuck you.”
“Yes, that just makes your case,” he drawled, folding his arms over his black shirt. He seemed entirely unfazed by the blood on his palm. And why would he be? I’d missed three times, and he’d struck me on his first throw.
“How about you act like an adult for a minute and tell me what you’re doing here?” he suggested, his expression hardening even more.
I yanked the blade out of my shoulder, furious at myself for failing to hit my mark. And for letting emotions destroy all my intentions.
Ezra made me irrational.
Which was entirely fair, considering what he’d done to me.
However, to win this match, I needed to be pragmatic and strategic. Just like him.
“The balance is at risk,” I informed him flatly.
He arched a perfectly sculpted brow. “Oh?”
“I know you feel it, Ezra.” Because I could sense it through my bond with him. I hadn’t even needed to overhear my father’s concerns or meet with Ashmedai regarding the power shift. I’d already known from my forbidden link to Ezra.
He studied me intently, his expression giving nothing away.
I couldn’t hear him. But I sensed the unease swirling around him.
He looked…tired. There weren’t any stress lines or wrinkles, his expression remaining arrogant and almost bored, but his aura exuded exhaustion. I wasn’t sure how I’d caught that—perhaps through our mating connection—but now that I saw it, it became even clearer.
His features resembled that of a thirty-year-old man, although they almost served as a mirage to hide the aging male beneath the façade.
Yet he caught my knife with the reflexes of a powerful Archangel, I reminded myself with a sigh.
I rolled my neck, flinching as my immortal genetics took over and began mending my wound. Using my good arm, I wiped the blade against my black pants. I’d have to sanitize it later.
At least the metal was steel, not silver. While the latter didn’t burn me as much as it did a full-blooded demon—hence the silver-etched runes on my cuff—I’d become more and more susceptible to the substance over the years. It seemed to grow in direct contrast with my abilities.
Fortunately, silver had been eradicated on Earth. Humans had never heard of the true element, just a fabricated metal that existed in its place on the periodic table.
Of course, that didn’t stop certain immortal beings from illegally creating weapons with it.
