“I do not recall suggesting that you ask your boss.”
No, he hadn’t.
I chewed on my bottom lip. Damn it, what was I going to do? I couldn’t allow Dallas to die now that I knew there was a chance to save him, but I couldn’t release Lilla, either. “The law states I must eliminate Lilla once she is no longer useful to my case. What if I vowed to keep her alive? To let her live inside a cell for the remainder of her life?”
“Were I to say yes to that, I would be supporting the very laws I despise,” he growled. “Laws that were made because your people fear what they do not understand.”
“Our laws were made to protect us from uninvited visitors,” I replied just as darkly. Then, as quickly as my anger appeared, it vanished. “Please. Please help me. Help Dallas. I’ll beg you, if necessary, to save him. I’ll fall to my knees right here, right now. I’ll do anything you ask. Anything…except free Lilla.”
His eyes glinted like opalescent steel. “Mia Snow on her knees before me? Tempting, I must say.”
“Is that what you want?” Currents of sexual energy sparked between us as we both pictured me doing more than begging. “Me on my knees?”
“Actually, right now I would rather have your gun.”
Everything inside me shouted to deny him—a good agent never relinquished her weapon—but I closed the distance between us and pressed the barrel into his cheek. I lingered there for two heartbeats.
“I could kill you right now,” I said, staring up at him.
“But you will not.”
No, I wouldn’t. Scowling, I removed the gun from his face, saw the impression I’d left there, and felt a small surge of satisfaction. I turned the weapon hilt first and placed it into his waiting hand. I didn’t mention that I had other weapons. Blades were strapped all over my body.
I watched as he removed the detonation crystal from its chamber, rendering it completely useless, then tossed the gun in the far right corner of the room. At least he didn’t plan to shoot me.
“I did as you wanted,” I said, my eyes narrowed. “Now you owe me something in return. Give Dallas more of your blood.”
“I never promised you anything. I merely asked you to give me your gun.”
“Damn you,” I whispered hoarsely. I longed to jam my fist into his nose, but I couldn’t spill his precious blood unnecessarily. I bared my teeth in a scowl. The bastard wasn’t going to give an inch. Wasn’t going to negotiate. He’d stated his terms, and I either met them, or he walked. “I need time.”
“And so I will give you some. But do not take too much.” His expression stubborn and determined, he strode past me, saying over his shoulder, “Without my help, Dallas will die in four days. Remember that as you consider my offer.”
As if I could forget.
He exited the room.
I didn’t think about my next actions, or the consequences they could bring. I knew what I wanted, and I was going to fight for it. I followed quietly behind him. The moment Kyrin stepped from the building and into the cold air, I sprang forward, and my leg shot out; I focused all of my anger, all of my frustration and helplessness, into the blow. Contact. My foot hit the middle of his back. Kyrin stumbled. “Say hello to size seven A.I.R. special-issue all-terrain boots with my own personal cleat attachment,” I growled. “In black, white, red, and camouflage, you sorry son of a bitch.”
I was going to force him to help Dallas.
When he caught his footing, he whipped around to face me. A muscle ticked in his jaw, and his lips pressed in a tight line. “You would strike a man from behind?”
“I would strike you from behind.” My fists were clenched and ready for the fight I knew was to come. “I want your blood, and I’ll have it, by God. Every precious drop.”
“I am disappointed.” He tsked under his tongue. “Such a cowardly action from one so brave.”
“Not cowardly. Smart. You’ll help Dallas whether you want to or not, and you’ll help him now.” I kicked out my leg, but he sidestepped the action.
He once again uttered that husky chuckle of his, renewing my irritation. “Would you like to bet on that?”
“Absolutely,” I said, and like a deadly catapult of fists and fury, I launched myself at him.
CHAPTER 8
First rule of fighting: Stay calm.
Second rule: Never let your emotions overtake you.
I’d broken both rules the moment I began following him.
Kyrin swept out of my way, and I flew past him. The storm had died, but the sun hid behind angry gray clouds, offering hazy visibility. Because of the sheen of ice at my feet, I had trouble stopping and turning.
Definitely not optimal conditions; however, I wouldn’t back down.
“You do not want to fight me, Mia.”
I whipped around. “Wanna bet on that too?” I sprang forward again, intending to kick out my leg and knock him flat this time, but he reached me first. He grappled me to the ground, pinned my shoulders to the ice, and imprisoned me with his body. Cold at my back, pure heat on top. Neither was acceptable to me.
“Still want to fight?” he asked.
“Fuck yes.” I quickly landed a blow to his groin. Yeah, I intended to fight dirty. He doubled over, and I shot to my feet, slipped, then steadied.
Slow down, I commanded myself, drawing in a deep breath. I couldn’t fly at him again, couldn’t give him another chance to evade or capture me. A full frontal attack wouldn’t work with this man; his strength was simply too incredible. I had to strike from the side, from behind, and I had to strike hard.
I relished the challenge.
Using his prone position to my advantage, I was able to land a blow to his left side and knock the deoxygenated air from his lung. He grunted in pain and sudden breathlessness. Arcadians were equipped very much like humans. Vulnerable in the groin, stomach, and head.
While he was busy gasping, I punted his left side again. Satisfied with my progress, I darted to his right and gave a booted strike. This time, he grabbed my ankle and toppled me to the ground. I lost my satisfaction, felt a moment of desperation. We struggled there, rolling on top of each other, fighting for dominance. I could smell the sweetness of his breath, the Onadyn that kept him alive.
Physically, he had me at a disadvantage, and we both knew it. He could have attempted to smother me, but he didn’t.
“It doesn’t have to be this way,” he panted.
Think, Mia, think.