Searing hot rage boiled through me and clawed up my throat to choke me. My brother's killer crowded out everything else with his sheer size and the intensity that radiated off of him in waves. I made a mad grab for the dagger in my boot - or tried to - but the weight of him pressing against my whole body severely limited my movements.
"Do it, then," I ground out, but my voice sounded like tea leaves spilling to the floor.
The mad grin on his face slid into a grimace. "You. Why are you here?" He backed off and dropped his knife to his side. His stormy gray eyes swept over my face, his face tight with distrust.
I blinked, unable to comprehend anything except my blistering fury for several precious seconds. Then the realizations poured in: I was still alive. He hadn't killed me. He wasn't
