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The room was quiet except for the faint rustle of fabric and the soft tapping of her fingers against my chest as she leaned closer. I could feel the heat radiating off her, deliberate and unrelenting, a force that seemed intent on testing every ounce of my patience and pride.
"Relax," she murmured, voice smooth as velvet, though her eyes betrayed mischief. "I'm just… helping."
"Helping," I echoed, smirk curling at the edge of my lips. "Right. Helping, by pressing your body into mine and seeing how long I can keep from losing my composure?"
She only tilted her head, lips quirking into that infuriating smile, and let her hands drift lower, brushing against the bandages at my side. "Perhaps it's a… diagnostic," she said lightly. "I need to know exactly how strong you are."
I laughed, low and humorless, though a heat stirred in my chest I hadn't expected. "Diagnostic? That's a new one. Dangerous, maybe. Intrusive, definitely. But I'll allow it… for now."
Her eyes locked onto mine, smoldering with a promise I couldn't read. She leaned closer, letting her weight press into me as she straddled my hips, teasing, dominant. "I think you need more than words," she whispered, voice just above a hum, the tip of her nose brushing my jaw.
And just like that, I realized I was caught. Pride flared, yes—but beneath it, desire, curiosity, and a hint of frustration tangled inside me. My hands itched to respond, to test the limits of her audacity, and yet I knew she was fully aware of the power of her own presence.
I cleared my throat, trying to regain some semblance of control. "You're confident, aren't you?"
"I could say the same about you," she murmured, her body pressing closer, hands tracing subtle, teasing paths over my torso. "But confidence… can be dangerous. Especially when someone is… unarmed."
I shifted slightly, matching her subtle movements with instinct, feeling the edge of something I hadn't felt in a long time—alert, alive, and utterly provoked. And though my mind screamed to resist, part of me ached to see how far this… treatment would go.
The game had begun, and in this house, with this woman, I realized that my strength wouldn't be measured in power or force, but in patience, wit—and the ability to endure temptation I hadn't known existed.
---
Her moans still echoed in my ears as my hands slid along the curve of her bare back, matching her rhythm with a mix of instinct and curiosity. For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to the heat between us, the pulse of her body above mine.
And then—
A flash of steel. A knife materialized in her hand, gleaming wickedly in the sunlight. Her intent was unmistakable. She lunged at my head.
I reacted instantly, dodging the blade, spinning to bring her into my line of sight. In a blur, she shifted, now facing the bed, and I found myself pinned above her. My heart thumped—not with desire this time, but with the sudden spike of danger.
"Why?" I demanded, voice sharp and controlled. "Why try to kill me? Who sent you?"
She didn't answer. Instead, she twisted, throwing me off with supernatural force. I skidded across the floor, barely regaining my stance as she rose fully, bare-skinned, her horns curving upward in a fearsome, beautiful display.
Her eyes burned with something far older and deadlier than desire—predator and seductress merged into one. She lunged.
I moved as fast as I could, dodging, weaving, but each attack was faster, more precise. Knife, claws, horns, her body itself became a weapon, and every motion tested the limits of my reflexes. Pride burned through me—I would not be bested so easily—but instinct and adrenaline screamed at me that she was no ordinary opponent.
"You'll have to try harder than that," I muttered under my breath, circling, looking for an opening, all the while still aware of the tension that lingered from our previous… encounter.
She hissed, a sound that was equal parts seduction and rage, and attacked again. Every swing, every lunge, every strike carried both a warning and a promise: I was her prey, and the game had only just begun.
And in that room, heat and danger merged, leaving me aware of one absolute truth: surviving her was no longer just about strength. It was about cunning, timing—and understanding why the woman I had just shared something intimate with had just tried to kill me.
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