Page 44 of The Sorrow of Shadows

“Why? Becauseyouare his type?”

“Because you have a dick, amongst other things. Plus, aren’t you interested in a different dark-haired beauty? I’ve seen the way you interact with her. You haven’t slept with her, but I knowyou want to.” I try to divert his attention away from my mystery male again.

“So, he’s also a dark-haired beauty? Interesting.”

Shit. I didn’t mean to let that out.

“And yes. Ophelia very much intrigues me. She’s delicate and beautiful, but so fierce beneath it all. She’s the opposite of me in so many ways.”

“Just do me a favor and don’t break one of my only female friend’s hearts. I’d hate to have to kick your ass for her sake.”

“Like you could. You haven’t beaten me hand-to-hand in years, B.”

“That sounds like a challenge.”

“It’s only a challenge if the other person has a chance at winning.” Gods, he was cocky tonight.

I push myself up and away from his hold, staring him in the eyes, “You. Me. Right here, right now.”

“You’re being serious?” He looks amused.

“You know I am.”

“Fine, but no shadows. That’s playing dirty. When I win, you won’t just tell me who he is—you’ll give me the memory.”

“Agreed. If I win, you stop asking about mystery male and you have to take Ophelia to dinner in the city.”

“You’re punishing me with a date? Do you know how bets work?”

“I get to dress you for it.” I grin widely. “The thought of you in a corset is rather satisfying.”

“Fine, you sadistic—” He lets out a grunt as I tackle him off the bed and onto the ground. Taking him by surprise would be my only chance at an upper hand. I straddle his hips and make a grab for his hands, but I’m too slow.

He bucks his hips and flips me off of him before I can pin him. My hands are pinned to my sides against the floor with all his weight on top of me.

“Like I said, a brat.” He rolls his eyes, thinking he’s already won.

I know what I do next would never work in a real-life situation, but I’ll use whatever I can to win. We already established that I don’t fight fair. I pinch the back of Elijah’s thighs that are currently pinning my hands and hips to the floor. If it weren’t for the fact that he’s in light linen sleep pants he wouldn’t have even felt it. But he is, and I pinch hard.

It catches him just enough by surprise that he arches his back slightly and lifts enough for me to twist my hips and throw him off me. As he finds his footing I roll from my back and spring to the balls of my feet. He’s ready for me when I start throwing punches at him. I don’t go for his face because I may be a brat, but I’m not that cruel.

He’s quick though, blocking every punch I serve him and not even trying to throw one back. I finally land one to his stomach, and I’m not even sure he feels it through the layers of muscle.

Realizing my approach is not working, I take a step back to reevaluate.

“Tired already? We can just call it now if you’d prefer.”

“Never.” I smile as a thought occurs to me.

Elijah’s focus shifts to several feet away just long enough for me to land a hit directly to his solar plexus. The breath leaves his lungs in a rush, and he gasps for air. I swipe my leg behind his, taking him down to the floor.

This time I don’t straddle him; I use my knees to pin his arms to the floor next to his body and smile triumphantly down at him.

He’s finally caught his breath again but has no control over his arms.

“Yield,” I demand.

“Never.”

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