The heat of her body against his was like fire and he briefly worried he was about to get burned, but then she went from stiff to lax and her right hand came up fast, and all thoughts about how good she felt in his arms were obliterated.
Hartt blocked the dagger she turned on him, using the arm he’d had around her to knock hers back, and clucked his tongue as she turned on a pinhead to face him and thrust forwards with the short blade. Her pretty face morphed into the picture of fury as he casually leaned his head to his left rather than blocking her and her dagger harmlessly cut through the air beside his pointed ear.
Adrenaline surged, the darkness chasing on its heels as she lunged again, attempting to pierce his heart this time. He swiftly blocked her, gripped her wrist and twisted hard. She choked out a cry as her entire body bent backwards from the force of his action, and lost her grip on the weapon. It clattered across the cobblestones and her bright golden eyes leaped to it.
In a lightning-fast move, she twisted beneath his arm and freed herself, and lunged for the blade.
Hartt hit it with a blast of telekinesis that sent it flying across the main street of the demon district and buried it hilt-deep in a stone wall.
The female huffed and stopped, didn’t miss a beat as she whirled back to face him, the dagger forgotten. She came at him fast, a blur of fists that had him on the backfoot, forced him to move as he parried her.
His heart beat harder. The darkness writhed faster, agitated and excited by the speed of her.
The raw fury.
“Did you get all the information you wanted on me?” He blocked another blow, slapping her right fist to knock it away from him, and teleported, appearing behind her.
She loosed a frustrated noise that was close to a growl and pirouetted. Part of him had expected her to use the reprieve, to take the break he had given her to get her breathing under control. She didn’t. She came at him again, landed a fierce kick to his shin and followed it with an uppercut that caught him under the jaw and snapped his head back so hard that his spine ached.
Gods.
He maintained enough control to make it look casual as he staggered backwards, refusing to reveal that she had managed to hurt him.
And impress him.
“Maybe we should cut to the chase?” As those words left his lips, her eyes widened and her pulse spiked, ticking fast in the smooth, tempting column of her throat and luring his gaze there.
Hunger flooded him, had his mouth watering as his fangs descended and a sudden urge to take her vein hit him.
Damn near stole command of him.
He shut it down, but it took far more of his will than he liked. What ravenous beast had she awoken in him? Maybe it had just been too long since he had taken blood. He tried to think back to the last time he had satisfied his need of it, but couldn’t focus to recall it as she advanced on him again.
All sinful curves that swayed with each measured step.
Tempting him.
“My name is Hartt.”
Her step faltered and a brief flicker of awareness, and surprise, shone in her eyes before she shut it down. She had heard of him then. It wasn’t particularly surprising given her profession, but some ridiculous part of him still wanted to puff his chest out. Hartt shut that down too.
“Your name is…?” He gave her an opening to say it.
She took it as a chance to attack instead.
Hartt blocked her as she threw a vicious right hook at his face and shrugged off the fact she didn’t want to share her name. “No matter. I only wanted a name to go with your face, one to remember you by when you’re dead.”
She ducked beneath the blow he aimed at her jaw, and he grinned as anger flared hot in her eyes, turning them molten. She didn’t like him belittling her, making out as if this fight was a done deal and she was as good as dead. She had pride. He filed that away and then reminded himself that he was going to kill her. He didn’t need to remember these small things about her.
She was no match for him.
She launched at him on a feral bellow, threw her weight at his chest and knocked him off balance. His back hit a wall and her fist came at his face. He barely had time to dodge it, relished her pained grunt as her knuckles struck the stone beside his ear rather than his cheek, together with something else.
How fast she was.
How vicious.
It spoke to him on a deep, dark level. One where he wasn’t quite master. One where the tainted part of him lurked. That darkness slowly grew with each swift jab she hurled at him, each measured blow she managed to land, and when she blocked a punch of his and snagged his wrist, had the audacity to grapple with him and revealed something else about her, he was done for.
She matched his strength.
She matched him so well that he found himself drawing out the fight, leaving himself open at times to see what she would do, cataloguing everything about her. She leaped backwards when he gave her a shot at his torso, a blow most would have taken to weaken him, revealing that beneath her fierce exterior, she had some honour.
He teleported, curious to see what she would do.
She shocked him by being ready for him before he had even reappeared, by throwing a hard left hook that connected with his cheek the moment he manifested. A lucky shot? Or could she track him through a teleport?
What was she?
Whatever she was, he had never met a female like her. He had never come across one who matched him as she did, who seemed to be aware of him at all times and could keep up with him. If she hadn’t already been a member of a guild, he might have ended things right there and then and convinced her to join his one.
Although, he wasn’t about to break his no-females rule. Fuery was still recovering from centuries of believing he had killed his fated one, something that had tormented him and driven him deep into the darkness. Being around females had been a trigger for his friend, and continued to be one even now if the darkness inside him was pushing for freedom, attempting to steal control of him and manipulating his memories, making him believe Shaia was a ghost of the female he had killed.
He landed a hard blow of his own, dropping on his left side to plough his fist into her stomach and rip a grunt from her. She was quick to break away from him, to press her hand to her side and scowl at him as she caught her breath.
Her flame-red hair stuck to her damp skin as she came at him again, her eyes flashing dangerously against their dark backdrop, her lips flattened in a mulish line as she readied her fists.
Hartt blocked both of her blows, captured her wrists and pulled her towards him.
Her scent of sandalwood and vanilla hit him hard as she breathed, as her golden eyes collided with his, and he forgot what he had intended to do, just stared into her eyes and lost himself in them.
Gods, she was beautiful.
Fascinating.
Got his blood pumping hard and hot, rousing fire in his veins that spread to heat every inch of him.
Harden every inch of him.
“If I best you, will you give up your name?” he whispered.
He could easily win this fight if he used his connection to everything he owned to call a weapon to him, but it didn’t seem fair. It didn’t seem right. If he was going to win this, he would do it on a level playing field.
She was a little breathless as she muttered, “Go to hell.”
“Already there,” he countered, but that feeling he had been thrown into some strange torturous hell was starting to look more and more like a glimpse of heaven as she twisted free of his grip and slammed the flat of her palm against his chest.