Page 117 of Barbi and the Villain

She huffs aloud, getting ready for her turn.

She walks in front of the bonfire and states that her skill is polishing swords.

My brows go up.

She gets a sword from one of the people on the sidelines, but instead of showing off how she cleans it, she brings the hilt to her mouth. She hollows her cheeks and slides the entire hilt to the back of her throat.

My eyes widen and it dawns on me what type of sword polishing she’s hinting at.

The men shout expletives as they stare intently at her performance, clearly imaging it’s something else she’s polishing.

When she’s done, she comes back to the line, giving me a smirk.

“At least you will never be out of a job. Everyone there carries a sword.” I point to the other side.

Her lips twitch in annoyance, but she holds her tongue as the next male steps forward to display his talent.

I can’t pay attention, though, as I go over my own performance in my mind. In a little while, it’s going to be my turn.

Can I do it? Should I do it?

The doubts eat at me. But as I glance at Nykander and his smug look, I decide that screw it.

The man goes back and I am called forward.

“Hello. I am Barbara Bancroft and my skill is being petty.”

Silence descends among the villagers.

“Can you explain?” Elijah asks.

“I can withstand any type of pain as long as my enemy feels the same.” I smile prettily.

People are still confused.

Removing a small knife from the pocket of my dress, I pull up the sleeve to my shoulder. With the sharp edge of the knife, I carve out letters in my arm, gritting my teeth at the pain.

ASSHOLE—that is what the final word says.

When I’m done, everyone stares at me in shock.

Blood pours to the ground from the gnarly wounds, but I continue to maintain my composure. Especially as my gaze collides with Nykander’s thunderous one.

Blood pours down his arm, too, dripping to the ground.

His eyes slowly turn entirely black, his fangs elongating before my eyes.

So this is what weeks of not feeding is doing to him—it’s destroying all his self-control.

My wounds heal. A little slower than before since I derive this particular power from the man himself—who is currently salivating for my blood.

“Uhm, Miss Barbara.” Elijah blinks. “That is…uhm…impressive?”

I force a smile.

With a swift maneuver of the blade, I slash at my throat. I raise a brow at Nykander just as a slash appears on his own neck.

His jaw is ground tight and he takes a step forward.

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