it off, remembered that she had only one
person that was important, and that person depended on her escape. Images of
her sister growing up had been battering at her mind since Honor disappeared. Their
childhood hadn’t been easy. There had never been much light in their lives, but
what did exist was because of Honor. Losing her life now that she was old
enough to leave these wretched networks would be a cruelty of fate from which
Hope would never recover. She had no choice but to kill the man that stood in
front of her.
“Should we establish a rule that you refrain from tearing
into me as I’m releasing you from the belt, or is it safe for me to assume that
you will attempt to kill me with only one hand free?”
“You’re a dick.”
“You would know,” he growled in response, allowing his eyes
to slowly travel over her body.
She was suddenly glad she was going to kill him. His fucking
arrogance had pushed on her last nerve. He looked down at the belt and used a
key he’d retrieved from his pocket to unlock it from around her waist. All she
needed was one hand free and she could end things quickly, use the key herself
in order to free the other hand once he was dead or incapacitated. Her response
to the small metallic click was instantaneous. She immediately went for his
face, hoping to cause enough damage to his eyes to give her time to use the
chains to finish him off.
But he was too fast.
Her wrist went from the shackle directly to the iron grip of
his hand. He caught her, had anticipated that she would strike out immediately
once freed. His other hand gripped around her throat and within a second he had
her pressed to a wall with every inch of her body completely immobile beneath
his. His forehead pressed tightly to hers.
“Do not think that I’ll go easy on you, Hope. I know you
will end my life if given half a fucking chance.”
Her gold eyes looked up suddenly into the stormy twilight of
his.
“I’ve already had you once, so it wouldn’t be a complete
loss if you were to suffer a severe enough injury to prevent me from fucking
you again. I’m not afraid to hurt you.” He let go of her throat and brushed his
finger over the tip of her nose. “You never know, you might like it.”
An aggravating mixture of rage and lust, hatred and need,
coursed through her blood. She was still weak, lethargic; but the added shiver
that his touch produced on her skin, or the way his smell ignited something
deep within her core, she couldn’t allow those feelings to affect the fight
— to cloud her thoughts or make her hesitate in her actions.
Breathe in … Breathe
out …
Slow, steady, methodical. She calmed her body, her mind. When
she no longer struggled against him, he released her and stepped back to unlock
the remaining shackle from her wrist. His messy brown hair fell across his
forehead and into his eyes, his broad shoulders flexed with each small movement
he made with his hands, and when the last metal shackle fell from around her
wrist, the back of his hand came up.
The impact with her face was hard to enough to knock her
several feet from where she’d been standing.
Chapter Twelve
It was a cheap shot, but one he used to introduce her to the
fight. He wasn’t lying when he warned her that he wouldn’t go easy. He
understood that she was lethal — even injured and weak, she was a person
who should not be underestimated.
She recovered from the hit quickly, pushing herself back up
into a standing position in one fluid and graceful motion. She moved the same
way a person would dance, long sweeping motions, with a quiet speed that made
you believe she cut the air like a sharpened blade. Her eyes narrowed in his
direction, but not from anger. No. She was studying him, plotting how she’d
overcome his strength and size. He recognized her behavior, her motions —
he’d fought against the same almost every day while growing up.
She stood stock still, the silence in the room pressing
against his
person that was important, and that person depended on her escape. Images of
her sister growing up had been battering at her mind since Honor disappeared. Their
childhood hadn’t been easy. There had never been much light in their lives, but
what did exist was because of Honor. Losing her life now that she was old
enough to leave these wretched networks would be a cruelty of fate from which
Hope would never recover. She had no choice but to kill the man that stood in
front of her.
“Should we establish a rule that you refrain from tearing
into me as I’m releasing you from the belt, or is it safe for me to assume that
you will attempt to kill me with only one hand free?”
“You’re a dick.”
“You would know,” he growled in response, allowing his eyes
to slowly travel over her body.
She was suddenly glad she was going to kill him. His fucking
arrogance had pushed on her last nerve. He looked down at the belt and used a
key he’d retrieved from his pocket to unlock it from around her waist. All she
needed was one hand free and she could end things quickly, use the key herself
in order to free the other hand once he was dead or incapacitated. Her response
to the small metallic click was instantaneous. She immediately went for his
face, hoping to cause enough damage to his eyes to give her time to use the
chains to finish him off.
But he was too fast.
Her wrist went from the shackle directly to the iron grip of
his hand. He caught her, had anticipated that she would strike out immediately
once freed. His other hand gripped around her throat and within a second he had
her pressed to a wall with every inch of her body completely immobile beneath
his. His forehead pressed tightly to hers.
“Do not think that I’ll go easy on you, Hope. I know you
will end my life if given half a fucking chance.”
Her gold eyes looked up suddenly into the stormy twilight of
his.
“I’ve already had you once, so it wouldn’t be a complete
loss if you were to suffer a severe enough injury to prevent me from fucking
you again. I’m not afraid to hurt you.” He let go of her throat and brushed his
finger over the tip of her nose. “You never know, you might like it.”
An aggravating mixture of rage and lust, hatred and need,
coursed through her blood. She was still weak, lethargic; but the added shiver
that his touch produced on her skin, or the way his smell ignited something
deep within her core, she couldn’t allow those feelings to affect the fight
— to cloud her thoughts or make her hesitate in her actions.
Breathe in … Breathe
out …
Slow, steady, methodical. She calmed her body, her mind. When
she no longer struggled against him, he released her and stepped back to unlock
the remaining shackle from her wrist. His messy brown hair fell across his
forehead and into his eyes, his broad shoulders flexed with each small movement
he made with his hands, and when the last metal shackle fell from around her
wrist, the back of his hand came up.
The impact with her face was hard to enough to knock her
several feet from where she’d been standing.
Chapter Twelve
It was a cheap shot, but one he used to introduce her to the
fight. He wasn’t lying when he warned her that he wouldn’t go easy. He
understood that she was lethal — even injured and weak, she was a person
who should not be underestimated.
She recovered from the hit quickly, pushing herself back up
into a standing position in one fluid and graceful motion. She moved the same
way a person would dance, long sweeping motions, with a quiet speed that made
you believe she cut the air like a sharpened blade. Her eyes narrowed in his
direction, but not from anger. No. She was studying him, plotting how she’d
overcome his strength and size. He recognized her behavior, her motions —
he’d fought against the same almost every day while growing up.
She stood stock still, the silence in the room pressing
against his
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