Page 47 of Untamed

I know what I found out, but I want to hear what she has to say in her own words. Her whole body freezes. Just for a second. Just enough for me to see the truth in her eyes before she schools her face into something defiant.

“How do you know that name?”

“I asked a question first.” My voice drops, low and calm, the kind of calm that precedes a storm. She hates it—I can see the flash of anger in her face—but I don’t care. Not when I’ve seen the texts. Not when I know something isn’t right.

“It’s none of your business,” she snaps, wrapping her arms around herself like it’ll protect her.

“Wrong.” I take a step toward her, closing the space between us, the mask making me feel sharper, colder—like a weapon. “he won’t leave you alone, and you’re mine, so he’smakingit my business.”

Her chin tilts up stubbornly, but her voice trembles when she speaks. “And what exactly are you going to do about it? Beat him up? Kill him?”

“If I need to.” The words hang between us, heavy and unshakable. I mean it, and she knows it.

She scoffs, even as her cheeks color, turning on her heel and pacing to the other side of the room. “I don’t need your hero complex, Rodion. I can handle him, you know.”

I love hearing her say my name, even when she’s angry.

I want to hear it again.

“Maybe you can, maybe you can’t,” I snap, sharper than I intended. She flinches, and I force myself to breathe, to pull backfrom the edge. “Not yet.” My voice softens, though the mask keeps it cold. “But I’m going to teach you.”

She spins to face me, her green eyes blazing. I want to grab her chin and force her eyes to mine before I claim her mouth and teach her manners. “Teach mewhat, exactly?”

“To fight. This is why we’re having your first lesson in self-defense.”

Her laugh is sharp, almost self-deprecating, but there’s an edge of something—self-doubt maybe—underneath. “You’re crazy.”

“And you’re reckless,” I bite back, closing the distance between us again. She doesn’t back away this time, her gaze darting between my mask and my eyes. When her pupils dilate and she visibly swallows, it only confirms what I already know. Ember’s fucking turned on. “You don’t know what you’re up against, little queen. You don’t even know how to defend yourself. I’m not always going to be there to stop someone from touching you.”

“Oh yeah?” she challenges. “I’ve studied self-defense. I work out, hard.” Her voice is husky as she licks her lips and meets my gaze. I step forward before she can react, crowding her space. Her breath catches, and she raises her small hand as if on instinct to warn me off, but her movement is slow and wide. With barely an effort, I grab her wrist without hurting her, just enough to immobilize.

Her body stiffens, her eyes locking onto mine. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Proving a point,” I murmur. I twist her wrist slightly more, shifting her balance so she stumbles forward, her chest brushing against mine. When her free hand hovers between us, it’s as if she’s unsure whether she wants to fight or flee.

I know what I fucking want. I’m holding myself back, but I want to prove this point.

“Let me go,” she demands, but the tremor in her voice gives her away. A stray strand of hair crosses her face, and she blows her breath at it to get it out of her mouth with an angry frown.

“Break the grip. Don’t pull,” I command, guiding her wrist out of my hold before releasing her. She stumbles back, rubbing her arms, her cheeks flushed. Even though she glares at me, I can tell her confidence is shaken. “You didn’t give me a chance?—”

“Exactly my point.” When I step closer, this time, she doesn’t retreat. “In a real fight, thereareno chances. You get one move. If you don’t make it count… you lose.”

Her lips part, but she doesn’t speak, just stands there, her chest rising and falling, the frustration in her gaze evident.

“Still think you know self-defense?”

“Fuck you.”

“Careful, little queen.” I shake my head, holding her gaze. “You’re treading deep water.”

She swallows hard, her throat bobbing as she looks up at me. “And what makes you think I’ll let you teach me anything?”

I lean in closer, the mask making my words feel darker, heavier. “Because you know I’m right.”

“My god, you’re arrogant.”

“I know your favorite coffee order and your favorite books. It took all my self-restraint not to go to the house of the bastard who bullied you online—and yeah, I got his address, but I heldmyself back—to teach him a lesson in respecting you. And you thought I wouldn’t check out a real-life threat to you?”

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