Page 15 of Snitches and Serpents

The closer we get to our destination, the more worried I become. If he’s going to do something, he will do it soon.

When we’re passing the last building, I’m so nervous that I look more at Tristan than the road ahead.

His mouth curves into a wicked smile, and he slides his gaze to me. “What? You think I’m going to kill you or something?”

I lick my lips. “Given that you almost strangled me last time I saw you, I don’t think my apprehension is entirely unjustified.”

It happens so quickly that I don’t even have time to cry out in surprise.

One second, I’m walking and speaking. The next, I’m pushed up against the wall in the narrow space between two buildings. Away from prying eyes. And with Tristan’s hand around my throat.

My heart slams against my ribs.

“You think I was strangling you last time?” he asks. Then he chuckles. The sound is full of threats and mockery. “I’m actually very good at choking people. Do you want me to show you?”

While desperately shaking my head, I yank up my hands and wrap them around his tattooed forearm in an attempt to push his hand away from my throat. But his arm might as well have been made of steel. He just raises his free hand and plants it against the wall next to my head while flashing me a sharp smile.

Then he tightens his fingers around my throat.

To my surprise, it doesn’t hurt. At all. But it cuts off my air completely.

Standing there pinned against the wall, I just stare up at Tristan with wide eyes as my lungs stop working. My hands are still wrapped around his forearm, and I can feel his muscles shift underneath my palms as he suppresses my breathing.

I thought I was going to be terrified. But to my utter shock, I’m not.

The pressure to always be perfect often makes it feel as if there are steel bands wrapped around my chest, making it hard to breathe. And now, with Tristan’s hand around my throat, I can’t breathe either. But this is somehow… different.

Though I’m not sure how. Or why. Or what to do with that realization.

Right before my lungs can start burning, Tristan relaxes his grip.

Air floods down my throat again as I suck in deep breaths.

My head is spinning, but I’m not entirely sure that it’s due to the brief moments without oxygen.

“That’s how you choke someone,” Tristan says.

Since I have no idea what to say, I just stare up at him.

Cocking his head, he shoots a pointed look at the hands I still have wrapped around his forearm. “Unless you want another demonstration, I’d suggest you remove your hands.”

I start, reality snapping back into me with a jolt. Releasing my grip on his forearm, I quickly let my hands drop back down by my sides.

He lets out a smug chuckle. “Good. Now, don’t move.”

Before I can reply, he takes his hand off my throat and instead reaches for the buttons on my collar.

Electricity zaps through my spine as he starts unbuttoning the first one.

I draw in an unsteady breath, my heart beating like a battle drum in my chest.

“Tristan,” I manage to press out. It comes out like a choked whisper.

With a smirk on his lips, he meets my gaze while he continues to the next button. “Yes, sweetheart?”

I don’t even remember what I was going to say as he efficiently undoes the final three buttons and then pushes the fabric aside, exposing my collarbones. His knuckles brush against my skin on the way back. It sends a pulse through my whole body.

Tristan’s smirk only grows.

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