The pen was within an inch of his neck, and he was looking straight down at me.
"You're faster than I expected,” I snarled, twisting my arm to break free.
He held firm. "You're predictable, Nova.”
He brought the other hand up, and snatched the pen from my hand as easily as plucking candy from a baby’s hand. He then hurled the pen somewhere in the room, and it hit the wall on the far end and rolled under a dressing table.
I brought my left fist up to his face. But he ducked under it, let go of my wrist, and positioned himself behind me. Even before I could turn to face him, his arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me back into his chest.
“Two,” he whispered in my ear, “do you want to take your third?”
I hit the back of my head at his face, intending to hit him right between his eyes.
