Page 57 of Savage Rule

“You know what, Dimples?” I grin. “I’m not hungry.”

Gunn definitely notices the change and he releases my hand. “Something’s happened?”

“It has.” From behind me, I whip out the blade already dripping with my own blood. “I’ve been reminded of who I am.”

“The fuck!” He leaps back as I swing, but I manage to catch him in the forearm.

Both of us watch in silence as a crimson line forms on his skin and rivulets begin to stream down to his fingertips.

Gunn lifts his narrowed gaze to me. Whatever worry was there has vanished, replaced by fury. His nostrils flare as his focus goes from my face to the weapon held tightly in my hand.

“We’re back to this shit of wanting to kill each other?” he spits.

“It’s what we have been ordered to do, Gunn. Procrastination is just going to make it harder in the long run.” I take an offensive stance, ready to engage him. Encouraging him to come to me.

“Procrastination? What the fuck does that even mean?”

“This! Us!” I scream. “What we’ve been doing is nothing more than bidding our time.”

“I thought we were doing more than that,” he retorts.

“We were playing. Like fucking little kids, just playing with fire. Eventually one of us will get bored and turn on the other.”

“I wouldn’t have. I promised you I wouldn’t.” He’s so serious, so determined, that it sounds true.

I huff. “How can I believe the word of a Sinacore member?”

“Can you believe Gideon?”

“He’s never betrayed me.”

“Neither have I!” He tries to step close, but I slice the knife through the air again, keeping him at bay. His jaw works furiously and he growls. “Damn it, woman. This isn’t a game. Not for me.”

Sarcastic laughter erupts from me. “Don’t tell me you’re actually falling for me.”

Every line in his face goes ridged and harsh, his eyes turning from brown to nearly black. “Give me the knife.”

“Fight me for it.” I strike and he evades. “It’s you or me, Gunn.”

“Give it to me. If you force me to take it from you, I promise you won’t like it.” The trembling in my hand becomes obvious and he notices. At this, the edges of his mouth soften. “Please.”

“Just fight me. Please!”So that I can live with myself if you die.

He shakes his head and puts out his hand. “Give it to me. You don’t want to do this.”

“I don’t have a choice!” Again I strike, this time, aiming for his leg. He moves to the side, but I manage to get a tear into his jeans.

“You have no choice?” His mouth pulls tight, drawing up his dimples into hard slashes on his cheeks. “Do you really want me as just another notch on your back?”

“You will killmeif I don’t.”

Because the real battle I’m waging is deep within myself, I’m slow to react when he snatches a hold of my wrist and slams me into the wall.

I scream in agonizing rage when I attempt to slap him with my free hand, but he manages to get a hold of that one too.

“Drop the knife!” he insists and he squeezes my wrist near the point of snapping. “If you wanted to kill me, you would have done it. So drop it before I hurt you.”

When I don’t let go, he begins to pound my hand against the wall, harder each time. Still, I hold tight to the hilt.

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