For one single second, I lapse into a moment of insanity and almost take a step back. His image flickers, and for a split second, I see Daddy looming before me. I focus on the man and steel my spine, forcing myself to hold my place.
This monster will not intimidate me in my own home. Especially when I’m not the one that should be scared.
“Because I’ve cast my judgement,” I say, my own smile ticking up the corners of my mouth. “And you’ve failed. You’re an evil man, and you were here to hurt two women.”
“Two?” he queries, feigning stupidity.
“Yes,” I growl. “You deserve to die for what you had planned.”
“And what did I have planned?” He takes another step towards me. White hot rage prickles at my flesh. I do him the same honor and take one towards him.
He pauses, just for half a second, before he recovers and smiles. It was enough. He was surprised.
I giggle, an evil smile ticking at the corner of my lips. “Don’t play stupid, demon. You were going to kidnap them. Probably rape and torture them. You would’ve let your goons do the same. And then either kill them or sell them off to someone.”
He doesn’t speak. He just stares at me, his chest rising and falling in a steady, calm rhythm.
“Is that what you think?” he challenges, his voice deeper and huskier. He’s angry.
“That’s what I know,” I sass.
“Then it seems we’re done here,” he concludes before briskly walking towards me. I’m not sure if his intentions are to leave or to hurt me, but I don’t wait to find out. I charge at him, swiping my blade across his face.
But I miss. He bends backwards, the tip of my blade several inches from his face. It happens in almost slow motion—when he bends backwards and I catch the first glimpse of his face. I gasp, surprised by the sight.
And then time speeds. Like a viper, his hand snaps out and catches my wrist. I kick my leg out, my foot kicking in his kneecap. He stumbles, his hand dropping my wrist in surprise.
I bring my knife down in an arc, but he swivels out of the way.
“Feisty bitch,” he mutters, an almost amused pitch to his tone.
Growling, I continue to swipe my knife at him, backing him further into the room. I need to hurry and knock him out before someone stumbles in. My men will keep guests away as much as they can, but that doesn’t mean other staff members won’t take notice to discord in the system.
The man dodges each strike, seamlessly and swiftly. It looks as if he’s dancing and the fact that I don’t look as graceful as he does angers me further. He looks like something out of a film, the way his body curves around my knife, the strobe lights making him look like he’s skipping through time and space. It’s clear this isn’t the first time this man has been in a knife fight.
Of course it isn’t. He’s a fucking kidnapper! An evil, twisted demon who steals the innocent and auctions them off just to get money in their pockets. All for money and power.
It sickens me.
He has to die. And he’ll look so cute strung up by his entrails tonight, with his blood painting my body in red. I’ll dance on his shredded body, and let my henchmen play with me, too.
Growing frustrated, I grip my pretty knife and launch it at him. I didn’t expect it to strike true, but to cause enough distraction to wrestle him down.
He’s much bigger and stronger, but that can be limiting. I’m smaller and can slip out of positions easier than he can.
Problem is, he doesn’t fall for my trick. The prick leans to the side, the knife whistling past his head and lodging into the wall. A normal person would look back at the knife, surprised by the move. But not him. He just continues to glare at me beneath his hood.
The hood has fallen back far enough in our fight that I can now see the entirety of his face. Electrifying mismatched eyes stare back at me, rimmed by long, thick lashes. One eye so dark, it looks black. And the other an ice blue so light, it looks white. Yin and yang.
A thin, white raised scar cuts down through his left eye, giving his face a brutally masculine look.
That face is mesmerizing. It’s dangerous.
“I’ve been trying not to hurt you,” he growls, low in his chest. The sound of imminent danger in his tone forms a pit in my stomach. I never fear the demons, but this one has my heart racing and palms slick with sweat.
Which is exactly why he needs to die.
“Pity. I’ve been trying to do the exact opposite,” I snap.