Page 114 of Slaying the Shifter Prince
Eric didn’t stay idle, though. With a grunt, he slid us sideways.
Just as I caught the knife in my right hand, the edge of the narrow walkway bit into my back. It grated down my spine, my backside, and then, once more, I was falling.
49
Fuck.
I jerked to a stop, legs looping around the first thing they could.
As I caught my breath, caught in the miraculous shock of still being alive, I took in how it had happened. My thighs were wrapped around Eric’s chest, and he dangled off the walkway, knees hooked around one of the uprights.
We hung there, staring at each other, our panting and the faint squeak of the catwalk’s fixings the only sound. For a performance like this, there should’ve been crashing drums—something dramatic. Not pathetic quiet.
He still held my left wrist, but my right was free and that hand held the dagger.
He twitched like he realised it at the same moment. “You can’t kill me. You’ll fall.” He nodded down to the stage below. “You know at this height, that means death.”
We both knew that. We’d attended the funerals of performers and stagehands who’d learned it the hard way.
I held the dagger to his throat.
He stared at me, eyes widening. “You wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t I?” I smiled at his shock and fear. “You know I’d give anything to make my sister’s murderer pay. Haven’t I been telling you that for long enough?”
One inch, and I’d cut his throat. One inch, and his blood would spill over my hand. One inch, and I’d get to taste it.
Then his legs would go slack, and he’d fall, and I’d fall right with him.
We swung gently on the rickety walkway, and I caught a dizzying glimpse of the stage’s boards below, so distant, so small.
One inch, and I’d never again see Sepher. One inch, and I’d never again make that muscle in his jaw twitch. One inch, and I’d never get to tell him the words I’d been too cowardly to say out loud.
I’d miss him, but…
Heart pounding like it was begging for life, I halved that inch so my blade touched Eric’s vulnerable flesh.
Between my thighs and around my wrist, he went rigid.
Yet I still hesitated.
There had been no hesitation when I tried to kill Sepher.
“Zita!”
With a gasp, I turned.
On the next walkway, reaching out, part man, part beast, it was him.
Seeing him, feeling how it made my heart soar, I understood.
I hadn’t hesitated over killing him, because back then I’d had nothing to lose.
But now… Now I had plenty.
“Take my hand.” He stretched across the gap, his beast man form large enough to almost bridge it. If I reached out with my right hand, I would be able to take his.
But that would mean dropping the dagger.
