Chapter 41

“And you believe you can fend me off with that broken bit of metal?”

Dianne glanced down at her bloody weapon. “No, but if I get you angry enough, you will kill me more quickly.”

He paced toward her, pried the shard from her numb fingers, and threw it to crash against the nearest wall. “A weapon will not work unless you are willing to wield it, girl. I suggest never raising one to me again.” Taking her bleeding palm in his hand, he inspected the shallow wound.

The last traces of pride and bravery vanished when he licked it. “If you are angry about the marks on my back, I was assured they would not scar.”

His palm cupped her cheek, fingers curling around her skull. A smear of her blood on his lips, he rumbled, the translation following. “I am angry about the wounds. Very angry. But I am not angry with you.”