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I hesitated, a part of me, a big part, tempted to agree.

He moved closer. “My father—he’ll pay you. Anything you ask.”

The hair on my nape lifted. If I were a wolf, my hackles would’ve raised. It was precisely the wrong thing to say. He’d reminded me who Zaq Kral was—and who I was. A slayer who’d dedicated her life to killing monsters like Karoly Kral.

I’d put my switchblades away, but now I drew one and released the catch. “Back. Against. The. Wall.”

For a tense moment, I thought he’d disobey. I stalked toward him, blade out.

He spread his arms, mouth bent in a warped grin. Daring me to stick the knife in him. “You’re not going to stake me and we both know it.”

“Don’t bet on it.” I touched the sharp point to his sternum.

“Do it, then.” Jaguar eyes seared into mine.

The air between us crackled and hissed. My whole body heated.

You’re pissed off, not hot for him.

Which was a barefaced lie. In some insane way, I was enjoying this, and my female parts were practically purring.

I didn’t say a word. To be honest, I didn’t trust myself to speak. Who knew what would come out of my mouth?

Instead, I shoved the knife into my belt loop and smacked my open hand onto his chest. “Now, dammit.”

“Oh, Reaper.” His voice was tender. Like he knew I was fighting myself as much as him.

When I growled, he gave me a knowing, stomach-tilting smile, and without bringing his arms down, took a step back.

I kept up the pressure. He took another step back, and another, until his back hit the wall, his wrists hovering over the cuffs. I snapped them into place and whipped around. I snatched up the container and wine bottle and fast-walked to the door like the coward I was.

I fumbled with the lock, jerked the door open.

“You feel it too.” Soft words, but they slammed into me like a hail of bullets. “You can pretend all you want, but we both know there’s something there.”

14

ZAQ

Eight days had passed, and I was still locked in a fucking cell. Something or somebody had messed up.

Father wasn’t going to rescue me.

Either he couldn’t find me, or he’d decided to test me, or he’d tried to rescue me and been captured himself.

Hell, maybe he’d never even gotten the message.

Whatever. I just knew I was on my own, trapped in a living nightmare. No one was coming to spring me—not my father, not Gabriel, and not Rafe.

Not even Reaper. She’d been a long shot, but I’d hoped…

So. It was up to me to liberate myself. I was running out of time.

The silver poison had hit me hard, maybe because I’d already been rundown when I arrived in Paris. Much more of this, and it would put me into a coma. Already, I was out more than I was awake.

This morning, I’d been startled awake by a rough, agonized cry. I’d strained against my bonds, heart racing, lungs heaving.

Someone’s hurt. I have to help.

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