Lessons in Murder
956 Words
Kael closed the door with a soft click.
The sound should not have mattered.
Yet it seemed to seal the room around them.
Aria stood near the mantel with the dagger in her hand, pulse steady only by force. Morning light spilled through the tall windows, painting silver across the floor. It did nothing to soften the danger of him.
Shirtless.
Barefoot.
Fresh from training.
His dark hair was damp at the ends. A thin line of sweat still traced the hollow of his throat. Scars crossed his chest and shoulders like pale memories. Some were narrow and old. Others looked brutal enough to have nearly killed him.
She hated that she noticed every one.
She hated more that she wanted to know where they came from.
“If you’re planning to kill me,” he said, voice low and rough from exertion, “at least let me see how.”
Aria lifted the dagger.
His gaze flicked to the blade, then returned to her eyes.
No concern.
No tension.
Just interest.
Arrogant beast.
She should have thrown it.
Instead, she advanced one step.
Kael did not move.
Another step.
Still nothing.
The silence between them changed shape. It was no longer empty. It breathed. Watched. Waited.
Aria stopped within striking distance.
Close enough to smell him.
Steel, clean skin, forest air, something warm beneath all of it that made her thoughts blur at the edges.
No.
Focus.
She pictured her father falling.
Lucian’s neck breaking.
Her mother’s still hand.
Hatred steadied her grip.
She drove the dagger toward his ribs.
Fast.
Direct.
Entirely human.
Kael caught her wrist before the point touched skin.
The stop was effortless.
The impact of his hand around her arm sent a traitorous spark through her body.
Aria twisted instantly, trying to wrench free. He turned with her, using her own momentum until her back hit the wall beside the mantel.
The dagger remained trapped between them.
Her wrist pinned above her shoulder.
His body inches away.
Too close.
Far too close.
Her breath shortened.
Kael lowered his head slightly, studying the blade.
“Acceptable angle,” he murmured. “Poor follow-through.”
She glared.
He continued as if giving a lecture.
“You aimed where I was.”
His fingers tightened around her wrist.
“You should aim where I’ll move.”
With his free hand, he guided the dagger lower, pressing the tip lightly against the side of his abdomen.
“Here.”
Aria froze.
The point rested against bare skin.
One push.
One thrust.
The blade would sink in.
He was handing her the chance.
Her pulse thundered.
Do it.
Do it now.
But the scent of him was stronger this close. Heat curled through her stomach, unwanted and immediate. Her mind betrayed her with flashes of different violence—fingers in his hair, teeth at his throat, mouth against the scars she should be cutting instead.
Disgust hit instantly.
She hated herself for every thought.
Kael saw the war on her face.
His voice dropped.
“There you are.”
She shoved at his chest with her free hand.
Hard.
He released her at once and stepped back.
Aria stumbled forward, then straightened, furious that she looked shaken.
He took the dagger gently from her hand.
Turned it once.
Then handed it back, hilt first.
“If you truly mean to kill me,” he said, “learn properly.”
She stared at the offered weapon.
What game was this?
When she didn’t take it, he set it on the table beside her.
“I can arrange lessons.”
The audacity of the man.
She snatched the dagger and threw it across the room.
It embedded in the wooden door with a satisfying thunk.
Kael’s mouth curved.
Better.
She crossed her arms and looked away, refusing to acknowledge that tiny approval inside her chest.
He walked past her, pulled the dagger free, and returned it to the table.
Then his attention shifted to the untouched breakfast tray.
“You ate half.”
She stiffened.
He noticed everything.
His gaze moved to the hidden note sticking from beneath her book.
A dangerous glint entered his eyes.
Aria lunged first.
Too late.
He plucked the note free.
Read it.
Looked at her.
“You kept this.”
She wanted the floor to open.
He folded the paper once and slid it into his pocket.
“It’s mine.”
Her jaw dropped.
The nerve.
Kael took one slow step closer.
“Say something.”
She lifted her chin.
No.
His eyes lingered on her mouth in a way that made heat slide through her again.
He reached up.
Aria’s breath caught.
But instead of touching her face, he brushed his thumb over a streak of dust near her shoulder where the wall had marked her blouse.
The simple gesture felt more intimate than the kiss.
She hated that too.
“Your silence is becoming rude,” he said softly.
She grabbed the nearest object—a pillow—and hit him with it.
The pillow burst open on impact.
Feathers exploded into the air.
For one stunned second, they both watched white feathers drift around them in the sunlight.
Then Ronan’s voice sounded from the corridor.
“Should I come back later, or are you two decorating?”
Aria stepped away immediately.
Kael closed his eyes once, as though asking the gods for patience.
When he opened them, they were fixed on the door.
“Enter,” he said.
Ronan pushed inside, took in the feathers, the overturned chair, Aria flushed with anger, Kael shirtless and calm, and grinned like a man arriving at theater.
“I knew it,” he said. “You’re flirting through attempted homicide.”
- Writer
