Page 16 of Dangerous Exile

Again and again, from all angles, she swung and he caught the poker until she was panting, her face red with frustration.

A screech ripped from her mouth on the last swing. He caught the poker just before it slammed into his shoulder and he yanked it from her hand.

Heaving, she jabbed several steps away from him until her hip ran into the side of his desk. She stopped, her glare pinning him with every heavy breath, her right hand clutching her side as heat flushed her face with a tinge of pink through the fading bruises.

He inclined his head to her. “That didn’t work.”

“So what were you trying to prove?” she spat out. “Just how weak—how slow I am?”

“No—only that your choice of weapons matters.”

She shook her head, looking away from him, fire crackling in her amber eyes as they stared at the door. She was debating. Debating on the wisdom of what she’d just started.

He didn’t want her to give up on herself so easily.

“Look around again, Ness. What else can you attack me with?”

She glanced around, frantic, her right hand flying up, palm to the ceiling. “I—I don’t know.”

Talen moved across the room to her, stopped, then leaned past her to set the fire iron onto his desk, his chest brushing her shoulder.

Damn. He was too close to her. Too close with her chest heaving, her eyes blazing and the smell of apricots drifting up from her hair. The swelling had abated on her face and he’d realized days ago that she was pretty—beautiful, even. That was when he’d started locking her door. The Alabaster was no place for a beautiful woman.

But why in the hell did she smell like apricots?

Verity. Verity would have found and brought up some odd mish-mash of soap from the kitchens for her. For as silent as she was, Verity was far too good to any guest they had here at the Alabaster.

He took a step backward. Out of Ness’s air.

It took him a full second to refocus on the task at hand. “Here’s the truth. You’re small, Ness. Wielding something big like a fire poker isn’t your best option. Someone is attacking you? Your goal isn’t to fight back and win. Your goal is to get away. Injure your attacker enough to run. Injure him enough to make sure that even if you are chased, he’ll never catch up to you. No matter what, stay alive. You’re small so you need to be fast.”

His chin tilted down as his look pinned her. “You’re small so you need small weapons that you can wield efficiently. Ones that don’t tire you out. Ones that aren’t going to be turned against you. I would have crushed your skull in with that poker after ripping it from you.”

Her jaw dropped.

“Now is not the moment for delicacy. This is reality and that’s what you wanted.” He shook his head and walked around his desk, picking up his silver letter opener with a dragon relief in the gold, coin-sized round at the top of the handle. The first thing he’d won off apeeryears ago—a win that had opened his eyes to the lucrative possibilities in London.

He flipped it into the air and caught it by the tip, then held it out to her. “Here’s your weapon.”

“But it has no blade.”

“The tip can impale just as easily as a dagger.” He wiggled it and she took it from his hand. “You impale, you draw blood, and then you escape. You won’t slit a throat with it, but it will damage. Damage equals escape.”

He walked back around the desk to stand in front of her. “Attack me again. See how fast you can be.”

Before his words even finished, she’d jumped to her left and jabbed the tip at his upper arm. A rip of fabric and the point of the opener hit skin and nicked him.

Blast, she could be quick.

He spun to the side just as she went for another swing at his shoulder and he caught her wrist. Wedging her arm up, he grabbed her opposite shoulder and shoved her backward until she ran into the wall. He slammed her right hand against the wall, making the opener fall from her grasp.

Her eyes flew wide, instant panic in them as her body curled against his hold, her eyes closing as she tried to make herself small.

“You’re cowering. Stop.” His words barked, harsh, into her face.

She shook her head, refusing to open her eyes to him.

He notched his voice down. “I’m not going to hurt you, Ness. But you need to feel the panic—this panic—know exactly what it is so you can identify it, overcome it. Stay alive.”

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