Page 30 of A City of Flames

A definite lie. “Why would a shifter, who’s supposedly dangerous and a likely killer—” A pointed glance “—willingly offer himself up for capture?”

He shrugs coolly. “Life can be so dreary without a little entertainment.” He walks up to me, and I don’t cower away from him as he extends the tip of the dagger outward. “So, what do you say, venator? Care to have some fun?”

I don’t have to weigh my options out. I know this could buy me time, or maybe I’m stupid. Everyone takes the Golden Thief as smart, cunning. He might be setting me into a trap right now, and I’m accepting it of my own accord.

“What happens if you win?” A raise of my brow.

“Then you let me walk out of here with all the jewels I want.”

Then I won’t let him win.

“I don’t have all night,” he drawls as I gaze at the blade, then at the side of his lip curling up. “I’d like to get out of here before dawn.”

Narrowing my eyes, I make my decision, taking it from him. A silencing second passes as I slide out another blade, keeping the other snug between my fingers and whirl, swinging my arm. He throws his forearm up, shielding himself. And as I move my other hand towards his neck, he snags me with his right one.

I withdraw my hands away from him and step back, puffing my chest, up, down, up, down.

He angles his head, studying me and my next movements, all done with a smile on his face.

This is his fun, his... entertainment.

That drives me to thrust forward, aiming the knife high to his abdomen, but he dodges it, causing me to tumble and almost hit the ground.

Frustration travels up my spine as I tighten my grip on the blades and turn—my braid spinning in a swift motion along with me.

I launch another dagger at him. He jumps out of the way as the blade lodges itself into the wooden walls.

He winces, shaking his head. “Almost had me there, venator.”

Taunting, he’s taunting me.

Darting towards him, I swipe the blade, left, right, up, middle, but he’s astute, veering his body, so I miss.

At each pounce, he chuckles. At every moment I nearly get him, he laughs harder.

All I see is red. He is trying to piss me off.

Leather burns and tightens from my hold on the handle as I twist, directing all my movements to his face. It whips to the side as my dagger slices across him. The force causes such stillness that for one solid heartbeat, his jaw tenses, sharp and straight.

Slowly looking at me, I notice that below his mask, where the light from above highlights his deep golden tan, a bead of blood trickles down his cheek.

I’d managed to cut him.

I smile at that as he brings a hand up, wiping the blood onto his glove. “It’s a good thing that won’t scar.” Eyes flicker to me dangerously. “I happen to like my face.”

“A conceited asshole,” I say, not bothering to hide the boredom in my voice. “How lovely.”

I go in unannounced, but he catches my wrist, then the other, ready to jab. “I admire your bravery venator, truly—” He mocks, the corner of his lip flitting upward “—but do we really have to try with the face again?”

I huff in annoyance, drawing back my knee and jerking it into his groin, but he blocks that too by moving his leg in front.

He puckers his bottom lip, but the playfulness never disappears. “Now that just hurts my feelings.”

“I didn’t know a murderer could have such things as feelings.” I should be afraid, but I’m nowhere near fearful of him.

“Did no one ever teach you not to judge so soon?” He lilts, the deriding tone never faltering as he pushes my knee down. I grunt, breaking free from his iron grip and pace backward with my knife still raised at my side. He watches me with amusement once more and curtly nods as if waiting for my next attack.

By now, I imagine he knows all my tactics. I don’t even think I have any. I just want to get him.

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