Page 79 of Sweet Touch of Venom
“See something you like?” His voice is thick and sultry, like hot melted chocolate dripping off a spoon.
I lick my dry lips, looking at my sword, then back at him. “No. Only the image of your devastated face when I beat you.” I swirl the knife, stepping forward, closing in the gap between us. I hood my eyes up at him, nipping my lower lip. “You know.It’s going to be terrible for your students to see their headman bowing to a woman.”
He cracks a grin, slowly lowering his gaze to me. “That’s where you’re wrong, my little snake. I’ll bow down to you anytime.”
My breath catches, causing the sword to slip between my fingers and nearly drop to the ground. He returns another satisfied smile to me before stepping back, stare fixed on me.
He’s enjoying getting under my skin this way. Loving the fact I’m almost weak to him. I won’t prove it.
We stand a few feet from each other, reading our stance. Wicked Mal at the end of the arena standings with one hand raised.
“Three minutes!” she shouts, her voice echoing into the filled faculty. “LET THE GORE BEGIN!”
I go into fight mode, shielding my face with the mask. Raising my hand and extending the sword, I point it at Ronan, who’s in the same stance. Both of us walk with one foot over the other, studying each other, sure to see the blade. My breath is hot inside the metal mask. Then I lunge forward, aiming for his thigh, but Ronan quickly acts like a tiger, blocking it. One arm is behind his back like it doesn’t take effort for him. He moves forward, hitting my waist with the point tip; I sneer to myself. Crap.
Moving again, I go fierce, doing a three-hit point. Hitting his shoulder, chest, and stomach. He then comes back, lunging smoothly, hitting my sword to get to my stomach twice and waist.
“You think you can do this,” Ronan says tauntingly, attempting to aim at my arm.
“Can you?” I grin as I block him, doubling back. I breathe harder, my face hot. “How do you take your loss? Do you take itlike a man or stomp off like a sore loser?” I walk slowly, watching his blade.
He chuckles, stancing in the opposite direction. “I wonder how your lips taste when I’m shutting you up.”
My chest heaves. “Not happening!” I lurch forward, but he’s quick, abnormally quick. He connects with my launch, swiping and flailing. I block as many hits as I can until we are both swirling swords around hitting the metal so neither of us loses.
“You’re very eager to win,” he says breathlessly as we fight.
“I can say the same for you. But bad news,Headman. The only lips you’ll be touching is the ground where I stand,” I hiss, swiping at his mask and hitting right along the metal.
Four points for me. Eleven more. He growls, grabbing at it and tossing it off.
My stomach shoots into the sky, taking in the look of a madman. His hair is slick to his face; that only makes my venom come out more. So, I throw mine off as well, my band coming with it, so my hair can flow freely from the tight ass ponytail withholding it.
I apply a devious smile on my mouth. “No need to get frustrated, darling.”
“Frustrated? I’m getting warmed up, baby.” He smirks, narrowing his eyes, the blackness popping out more.
And that said it all. Don’t speak so soon.
His sword moves swiftly, swiping in my face, but I block quickly. I lurch back, spinning and nearly swiping his cheek. He beams, the carnal in his smile fixing into a deadly leer.
“You think you can beat me?” His voice booms, and he licks his lips, steadying his prance.
I toss my hair over my shoulder from the heat. The cool air is doing nothing for me. “Don’t distract me, asshole.”
I push my sabre forward to catch his shoulder, but not fast enough; he curves around my sword, swiping my arm and thigh.
I quickly aim for his chest and leg before he bests me, but he’s faster and connects, hitting my waist and arms. Giving him ten points total.
No.
“Fuck,” I hiss.My heart rate picks up, understanding where this is going. He doesn’t even need to stand in the stance anymore. He looks at me with the determination of a feral man seeking his food so he can feast all night and be full for the winter.
That horrifies me. So, I fly at him, my sword swiping at any part that can hit him. He blocks most of the hits with a sick grin. Until it hit, sliding lightly against his cheek, the blood spilling from the abrasion. He pauses, wiping his thumb on the slice and bringing it to his vision.
The crowd gasps, the pounding of their feet growing in strident echoes. Loud and thunderous.
The creepiest smile forms as he lifts his thumb to his lips, flicking his tongue with a slow, methodical lick.
