Page 4 of Claimed In Darkness

“No,” I agree. “You’re not.”

Which is why I won’t kill her.

Not yet.

I lift the dagger away, tossing it to the side like it’s nothing. She watches it clatter to the ground, and I see the moment her spine stiffens, the moment she realizes what I’ve done.

I’ve disarmed her.

She is mine now.

I take another step forward, closing the distance between us. She should move. She doesn’t.

“I have a proposition for you,” I say.

Her expression sharpens, wary. “What kind of proposition?”

The silence stretch, and I savor the anticipation—the way the tension between us crackles like a live wire. Then, I say, “You’re going to steal something for me.”

She exhales sharply, almost a laugh. “That’s what you want? You caught me breaking into your home, and instead of killing me, you want me to do more crime for you?”

“Yes.”

She shakes her head. “You must be even more arrogant than I thought.”

I step closer—so close now that she has to tilt her head back to hold my gaze. She doesn’t like that.

Good.

“You stole from the wrong house tonight,” I tell her softly. “And for that, you will either earn your life—or lose it.”

She should say yes.

She should be grasping at this chance like a drowning man grasping for air.

Instead, she narrows her eyes, gaze flickering with sharp, stubborn resistance.

“No,” she says.

No.

I stare at her. “No?”

She shrugs, lips curling. “Not interested.”

I laugh. Actually laugh.

This girl is fucking insane.

I grab her chin, fingers pressing just hard enough to demand her full attention. Her breath hitches—not in fear. No, not in fear at all.

I lean in, voice dropping into a slow, dangerous whisper. “You don’t have a choice.”

Her nails dig into her palms. Fighting her own instinct to shiver.

“I always have a choice,” she snarls.

Wrong.

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