Chapter 67

• This was nothing to her. Throughout her life, she had unavoidably hurt herself. She even missed those times as odd as it sounded; fighting, hunting, and everything about it. A sadness flicked through her.
• On his end, his eyes were full of intent—dark and palpable—as he watched her pick up the knife without much hesitation. There was more to this demand of his, wasn’t there? As much as she wasn’t afraid of this amount of pain, she struggled with her earlier idea, again.
• Sadness and anger battled in her heart. He had handed her an actual weapon, on his own accord. The hilt of the knife in her grip liberated her from the haze of desire and lust he had wrapped her in. She tried to hide the grisly hope so that it would show on her face.