Page 58 of Dare

Weapon in hand, I paused a centimeter from ripping through his shirt, the action a silent war cry. Yet the man strode ahead with confidence, dismissing the jab to his side, his steps so graceful that the knife hardly moved in tandem.

I nudged him with the weapon and—

“No,” he forbade.

“Yes,” I snarled. Then I jabbed, nipped the material, and gasped as the flat of his hand smacked my ass, hard and stinging like hell. The sharp clap echoed through the woods, the impact jolting me.

My dagger missed its target, but my hand didn’t. Outraged, I extended my arm and slapped his ass back.

For an instant, the prince stiffened. “I warn you, Little Beast,” he seethed. “Behave.”

Winter should know better than to order Summer around. As he kept going, I twisted and latched my teeth onto his shoulder. A hiss sliced from his mouth, his fingers snaring the roots of my hair and yanking my face from his skin. He held me like that, with my head slanted at a precarious angle, the verge of pulling a muscle if I didn’t comply.

Damn him. He wasn’t worth a third attempt.

After a few more steps, the prince released me, dark waves flouncing around my head. With my body dangling like a sack, I felt his muscles shift, from the plates of his shoulder blades to the carved span of his chest. The untucked shirt rode around his hips, and the wrinkled navy pants clung to his legs, the fitted cloth stretching over those taut buttocks. The ovals showed no sign that I’d made a dent, flexing instead with every step.

My pussy had been riding that strong physique to the brink last night. Vexed, I turned away before the memory got me nauseous. I couldn’t afford the consequences of puking all over his clothes.

The enemy stopped. He swung me upright and let go, dumping me to the ground. As I stumbled to keep my balance, he took the opportunity to swipe his blade from my fingers, shoving it back into its encasement and then backing me toward the hedges while staring down the length of his aristocratic nose.

“Try it,” he dared. “Disobey me again.”

“Your rank is worthless here, Your Highness,” I sneered. “And throwing your weight around doesn’t work on me. I might be kicked to the ground, but I always get back up, and I’ve survived more scars than you could ever give.”

At the mention of my scars, something livid flashed in his pupils. “You will not endanger yourself again. Understand?”

I frowned, stumped that he wasn’t referring to my trick with his knife. No, he was referring to me gambling my safety at every turn.

Taking my silence for rebellion, the prince stalked nearer until his torso grazed my breasts. “I can restrain you for longer,” he murmured. “Go ahead. Give me an excuse.”

Heat simmered between us, thick and humid. With a grudge, I watched the muscles of his throat work, pumping air in and out of his lungs.

How far could I push him? What would he do to retaliate?

I stormed ahead, clearing my head of his proximity. The prince fell into step beside me as the soil transformed into a dewy carpet of grass.

Blossoms hung upside down from vines, their yellow petals drooping. That feline roar I’d once heard rumbled from a notable distance.

As I checked myself for fang wounds, he said, “The reptile did not get to you.”

I blinked at his profile, which had barely looked me over. Nonetheless, this reassured me enough to dwell on other matters. “I lost the fruit.”

“You could have lost a body part,” he lectured.

“If I’d lost a body part, you would have sewn it back on.” After a beat of silence, I glimpsed the prince’s mouth tipping sideways. Fisting my hands on my hips, I marveled, “Is that a smirk?”

His lips collapsed. “Nonsense. You don’t amuse me.”

“Does anything?” But when he refused to reply, I sighed balefully, “The pome smelled like a mango.”

“Varieties of mangoes are acidic.”

“Acid is good for the soul.”

“Not so good after a poisoning like yours.” The prince halted in a rare slash of light and swung toward me. “Open your mouth.”

I tensed. “I’m fine. My tongue and throat are still there.”

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