Page 8 of Monster's Pretty Bride

Let her think she has control. So I can strike

The moment she commits to the swing, I step into her guard, gripping her wrist. She gasps, jerking against me, but I twist sharply, forcing the blade from her grasp. It clatters against the sand.

I expect her to retreat. To falter.

She does neither.

Instead, she uses the shift of momentum to kick out, aiming for my ribs.

The impact is solid. Not strong enough to break, but enough to make me react. My grip on her wrist loosens, and she wrenches herself free, staggering back, chest rising and falling with sharp, measured breaths.

The arena is silent.

I straighten, rolling my jaw, letting the sting settle where her boot connected.

Interesting.

I swipe a thumb along my bottom lip. “Not bad.”

She exhales sharply. “Not finished.”

Something dark and hungry curls low in my gut.

She lunges again.

I let her come. Let her reach for the weapon at my side.

But this time, I do not allow her to land a strike.

I move before she can react, my arm shooting out, catching her mid-motion. She chokes as I pull her in, slamming her against my chest, wings flaring wide, casting us in shadow. My hand fists in her hair, yanking her head back, exposing her throat.

Her pulse thrums wildly beneath my grip.

Heat radiates from her skin, her breath warm against my jaw.

I lean in enough that she can feel the way my chest rises against hers, the way my fingers tighten against her scalp. “If you had your magic,” I murmur, low, dangerous, “you would have burned me alive by now, wouldn’t you?”

She says nothing.

But the answer is there, written in the sharpness of her breath, the way her body goes rigid beneath my hold.

A slow, indulgent smirk curls across my lips.

Good.

I release her abruptly, shoving her back. She stumbles, catching herself, eyes blazing with something sharp-edged and wild.

Before she can speak, a tremor rakes through me, sudden and brutal.

I snarl, staggering back, my hands flying to my chest as the fractures beneath my skin split wider, molten heat flaring along my ribs. A curse tears from my throat as my body betrays me, the magic snarling in protest, fighting to unmake me from the inside out.

Not in front of them.

The stone cracks further, creeping up my throat, across my jaw. The whispers in my bones grow louder, the curse shifting, unraveling.

Eryss steps forward, hesitation flickering across her features.

I force myself back. “Stay.”

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