Page 76 of That Sik Luv

“You sure that’s the question you want to ask? You already know the answer,” he comments smugly, picking up the knife.

You pushed and pushed… You just kept pushing.His words spring to life in my mind.

These games. This man. The answers he knows but won’t convey. I’m breaking.

“Answer me!” I scream in frustration.

“Because you weren’t meant to be, Briony! If you would’ve just shut up and played pretty housewife, you wouldn’t be in this fucking mess. But no,” he snaps. “You needed to conquer their world too, didn’t you?”

“That doesn’t make sense to me, Aero!” I pick up another knife from the ground. “It’s not enough!” I chuck it at him.

It hits the tree above his head, sticking into the bark at a strange angle. His eyes widen slightly, but he shifts back into his cool demeanor yet again. It pisses me off. I want red fiery anger from him. I want him to react to me. For some strange reason, this small action is driving me crazier than ever.

“Give me everything!” I scream. “Tell me everything!”

I grip another blade from the dirt and hurl it towards him. This one sticks into the tree to the left of him, above his shoulder. I hit where I’d intended. A ghost of a grin forms as his lips pull up in the corner. He’s enjoying this. This sick and twisted fuck is enjoying my emotional outrage and turmoil.

That same anger they have taught me to cover and sit quietly with Christ, the questions I’ve always wanted to ask but was never allowed, the rules I never quite understood but was expected to obey... All of my past is catching up to me, and I’m breaking. I’m losing any self-control I thought I’d retained from all my years at The Covenant.

I’m out of knives, or so he thinks. All but one left. I reach behind me, into the back of my white camisole, and pull the sentimental blade, given to me by the teacher himself, from inside the tight fabric. It’s time for his test.

With a flick of my wrist, I flip the blade free, then quickly aim directly at his head. His gaze isn’t locked on me anymore. The knives are spread on the ground before him. He doesn’t realize I’m still holding one. He assumes I’m all out.

The blade slips from my fingertips, pulling what feels like the last bit of my old self along with it. I instantly know my aim and trajectory are too on point. The knife hurls towards his head, on a straight path to his face. With a quick snap of his head and a fast hand, he catches it just before it hits him. His chest is heaving as the blood drips down his forearm. He caught the blade with the palm of his hand, directly between those dilated eyes.

His gaze shifts from the mess of his cut before him to my image behind it, clearly shaken in surprise.

I swallow, the thumping of my heart from the anger channeling into pounding beats of absolute fear ringing in my ears.

Aero pushes off the tree and begins stalking towards me.

I take a step back, tripping over my own feet and falling back onto my bottom, before pushing up on the heels of my palms, getting them beneath me again, and standing. He reaches me, gripping my black hair at the nape of my neck in his wounded hand. I gasp as he holds the blade before me, his dark eyes searching mine.

“You broke,” he whispers breathlessly, a sense of wonder and amazement in his gaze as he slowly shakes his head in disbelief. “Baby...you broke.”

He pants heavily over me, folding the knife in one hand as his eyes stay pinned to mine. He tucks it back into the strap of my tight-fitting tank, fingers lingering on the mounds of flesh rising and falling rapidly between us. His thumb intentionally skims across my pebbled nipple, and one soft little flick has electricity running from the sensation to the ache between my legs.

Fear and arousal. So very much alike. Powerful, and at times, all-consuming. Very much like his entire effect on me.

Aero studies me like he’s never seen me before. Apparently, the attempt to kill him has him falling entirely. His brows knit together as he peers over my face, gazing at my lips, then finding my eyes.

“I’ll tell you everything,” he whispers softly, loosening his grip on my hair, the promise in his tender gaze. “I’ll give you everything.”

His injured hand finds my face as his thumb trails across my bottom lip. I’m panting heavily as he kneels into the dirt before me. The bloodied hand makes its way down my throat, slowly trailing further down until my neck and the white of my tanks is covered in his bright crimson blood.Just the way he likes me.

Kneeling before me on the forest floor, he gazes up at me, his hands settling on my hips as his parted lips lay inches from my breasts.

This man. This powerful assassin, who kills before questioning, is on his knees before me, looking up at me like I’m royalty. He’s submitting himself entirely.When I break, he folds.

He looks at me, waiting for me to make my move. The breeze rushes through the trees, a warmth in her push. My hair dances before my eyes, but our direct eye contact never falters.

Two lost souls dancing beneath the flesh, aching to be seen by the other. We speak without words, recognizing the other in the most primal form of communication. Our bodies, our change in breaths, the pounding of our aligned pulses, the rise of the hair on our neck, the way our eyes dilate when looking into the other.

This is my chance. He’s looking for my direction now. I’m in control, and he’s entrusting me with all that he is after witnessing the fight within me. It’s a moment more powerful than him giving me control over his life with a few knives. Even then, he knew he had a way out. He could control an enemy throwing weapons at him. What he can’t control is the release of his heart to mine. A weakness he wasn’t yet ready to embrace.

Slowly and with careful hands, I sink my fingers into his black, inky locks that are wet with sweat, finding his scalp. With a gentle embrace, I wrap my palm around the back of his head, his hair weaving through my fingers, the other slowly sliding around the back of his neck. He inhales sharply, closing his eyes tightly. His arms slowly slide around my hips, wrapping around me as I pull his face against my chest. He sighs in my embrace, finally allowing himself to melt into the sensation that once terrified him, allowing the gentle caress of my fingers to massage his scalp through his hair.

“Everything,” he whispers.

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