He turned to me with the dagger, and though fear twisted in my stomach, I refused to let it show on my face. My heart pounded, each beat loud in my chest, but my voice came out steady.
“What are you trying to do?” I forced the words out, my chin lifted, defiance masking the terror burning in me.
Rhett’s eyes darkened. “You have the guts to slap me—after what you did before, when you struck me while I was sleeping.” His tone was venom, the dagger glinting as he raised it.
The cold edge pressed into my lap, sending shivers of dread through me. His other hand clamped down on mine, pinning me with ruthless ease.
“Let’s take this to the next level,” he growled.
Before I could process his words, he dragged the dagger across my palm—the same hand I had used to slap him.
A sharp sting burned
