I watched his frame, waiting for a twitch of movement to tell me where he was going. Left. But as I coiled to strike, aiming for a crippling blow, he caught me off guard. His touch was a jolt of electricity, his fingers grasping my shoulder with a force that spoke of his own desire to dominate. Yet, my agility was my salvation, my body twisting to evade his control, the knife finding its mark on his thigh.
The sensation of the blade sinking into flesh was both shocking and satisfying. The resistance gave way to a yielding that was almost sensual, the knife cutting a path of fiery agony that I felt as a mirrored echo in my own body.
His hiss was a symphony to my ears, a sound that mingled with the rush of my breath and the beat of my heart. Blood, warm and vital, painted my senses with it
