Page 52 of Reaper's Desire

I reach for the delicate gold chain around her neck. My fingers brush against her skin, and she shivers, the movement so subtle I might have imagined it. The knot is tiny, barely visible, and I have to lean in close to see what I'm doing. "You're doing this on purpose," I say quietly.

"Doing what?"

"Testing me."

"Maybe." Her voice is soft, almost a whisper, so innocent that if I didn't know better, I'd almost think she didn't know what she was doing. "Is it working?"

My fingers work at the knot, trying to ignore the way her skin feels under my hands, the way she smells, the way every breath she takes makes her breasts rise and fall, visible under the towel as my gaze trails over her shoulder. "You need to stop."

"Why?"

"Because I'm trying very hard not to touch you, and you're making it impossible."

"Good." She tilts her head slightly, exposing more of her neck. "I want you to touch me."

"Isabelle—" My jaw clenches. The urge to punish her only grows, along with the ache in my cock.No. Stop. That will make this worse.

"I want you to stop pretending you don't want me. I want you to stop pushing me away. I want?—"

I get the knot undone and step back quickly, putting distance between us before I do something I'll regret. Before I lose what little control I have left.

"Get dressed," I say, my voice rough. "We need to talk about your training."

She turns around slowly, the towel slipping slightly before she catches it. Her eyes search my face, confusion replacing the attempt at seduction from a moment ago. "Training?"

"Self-defense. You need to know how to protect yourself."In case I'm not there to do it. In case I'm dead, and you're alone, and the hunters find you.

Her eyebrows shoot straight to her hairline. "When do we start?"

"Now. As soon as you're dressed."

She stares at me for a long moment, and I see that confusion change to curiosity. She doesn't seem to hate the idea, which is more than I expected. I thought she'd fight back, be prissy about it, but she seems interested.

"Fine," she says. "But this isn't over."

She grabs her clothes and disappears back into the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind her.

I sink back down into my chair and run my hands through my hair, trying to get my breathing under control. My heart is pounding, my body tight with need, and I can still feel the ghost of her skin under my fingers.

I'm not going to make it. I'm going to break before the deadline, going to give in to the wanting that's eating me alive. I don't know how to keep doing this. And if I do…

Fuck, I'll be a monster. The man who fucked a woman who has no idea he was on the verge of killing her.

The bathroom door opens, and Isabelle emerges, fully dressed now in leggings and a tight tank top that makes my mouth go dry as I look at her. Her hair is still damp, pulled back in a ponytail. "I'm ready," she says.

She's not ready. She has no idea what's coming. But I nod anyway and stand up, moving the furniture as far as I can to the edges of the small room to create an open space in the center. She watches me, her expression unreadable.

"First rule," I say when I'm done. "In a real fight, there are no rules. No honor, no fairness. You do whatever it takes to survive. Understood?"

Isabelle narrows her eyes at me. "Understood."

"Second rule: your goal is never to win. Your goal is to escape. You hurt your attacker enough to get away, then you run. You don't stick around to finish the fight."

"Got it."

"Third rule: the most vulnerable points on the human body are the eyes, throat, groin, and knees. You go for those targets first."

She nods, her green eyes locked on mine. "Stop talking then, and show me."