Page 141 of Hell and High Water

“God, I forgot how fast you are. How strong you are, too. So, so powerful…” she moans in my ear right before she rolls out and away, kicking off my back and bouncing on her toes.

I’m up and after her in a flash.

A knife zips by my head, and I strike it out of the air with the back of my hand. The next one nearly takes me in the eye, but I catch it just in time, flinging it back at her. She sees it coming and twirls out of the way, giggling obnoxiously.

I skid to a stop, reversing my momentum as she two-steps up the couch and flies across the space between us, her foot clipping me in the shoulder. Rolling with the motion, I snag her pant leg and yank to the side, sending her plummeting into the ground.

A somersault and a backflip take her back over the other couch, tipping it back to cover her fall.

Rushing around the back, she’s gone.

I only get a split-second warning, a rustle of cloth, as she flips another knife at me from behind the curtains. Ducking back, I throw up my arm to protect my face, taking the blade into my forearm.

But I’m still moving, tangling the curtains around her, trying to bind her up and pin her. Again, she drops like every bone in her body turns to jelly and slips out of my grasp.

“Dammit, will you hold still?”

“Only if you promise to be rough with me!”

“Not what I meant!”

Another knife nicks my leg, firing me up even more. This has to end. Now.

Feigning a slight to my right, I see her eyes dart to my knee, the old injury she singled out in our first fight, with Evan. She takes the bait, clearly expecting me to defend, to guard that weak point.

Instead, I rush her as she goes for it, her eyes widening at the last second, right as my fist connects with her jaw, sending her flying into the wall.

A gust of air blasts from her lungs as she hits the floor, coughing.

“Fu-hu-huck!” she half coughs, half chuckles. “What are you taking and how can I get some?”

This is all me. Just fucking rage.

And she’s going to get a full dose.

A glint of steel warns me of another knife as we clash again, and I’m ready.

One hand slaps into her guard, my other hand stiff fingering her wrist, and she drops the blade in a clatter. But her boot is already flying right at my face.

Throwing myself back hard, my legs splay out as I fall. I realize my mistake too late, taking the blow right between my legs.

White-hot pain explodes up through me, turning my guts to jelly. It only makes me madder, despite the queasy, nauseous feeling surging across my middle as I hit the floor, bouncing back and snarling a violent promise as I rush her again.

Snatching her leg before she can drop back, I spin, launching her across the room and over the kitchen counter. Alaya crashes into the fridge, flopping down and out of sight, grunting in pain.

I’m over the counter before she can gain her feet again, lifting her and tossing her back into the living room.

I’m raging, completely out of control now.

A voice that might be Hellena’s shouts for me to stop, distantly.

Or maybe it’s my conscience. But I’ve had too much. The past few months have pushed me too hard.

Fear of losing Hellena has nearly broken me.

“Gavin!” the voice cries for me again.

I don’t listen. Circling the bar, I’m intent on the direction I threw her, ignoring the obvious trap. Her kick takes me in the jaw, coming up from under the bar and knocking me to the ground.

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