Pivoting on the balls of my feet, I followed him with the barrel of the carbine. I didn’t even consider fleeing. He’d stop me before I made one step toward the ladder. How long would it take Jesse and Roark to find me? Thirty minutes?
I refused to fear this man and straightened my spine. “Good thing Jesse’s an excellent tracker. What do you want?”
He stepped an arm’s length away and inclined his head. “Put the gun down.”
“Fuck y—”
Air brushed against me, and my arms suddenly lightened. The gun…
It sailed off the front side of the roof. Dazed, I stared at my empty hands then at his casual stance a foot away. What the unholy fuck? I hadn’t even seen him move.
A tremor shook my body. I didn’t stand a chance.
“Evie?” Tallis’ Australian accent floated up from the front lawn.
My breath hitched.
“Let him see you. Then make him go away.”
Michio’s whisper lacked any hint of emotion, but his dark eyes promised Tallis would wake with a busted skull—or maybe not wake at all—if I set off alarms.
With cautious steps, I moved to the edge. If Michio intended to harm me, he would’ve taken me off the property, far out of reach of the others. But how much of the Drone’s evil was circulating in his blood? How much control did Michio have over himself?
Waffling on a plan of action, I plastered on a lazy smile and peered over the low wall. “Hey.”
“You dropped your gun, mate.” Twelve feet below, Tallis held up my carbine and pursed his lips.
One look at his adorable face decided it. I couldn’t put him at risk. “Yeah, I’m…uh, having a little tiff with Michio. You know how we like to work things out with our hands.” No truer words. The first time Michio fucked me was during a no-holds-barred scuffle of bruising punches and kicks. “We need some privacy, okay?”
“The doctor’s with you?” Tallis didn’t move, boots planted a foot apart, shoulders squaring with tension. “Where’s Jesse?”
“He’s on his way back. Didn’t he say Shea was your number one priority? We really need your focus on her until he gets here.”
He glanced at the valley behind him, at the doorway of the animal clinic, then lifted his eyes to me, his voice lowering. “If you call for me, I’ll hear you.”
With that promise, he strode into the building below.
A gust of air vacated my lungs. Jesse had my handgun, but I still wore four knives on my arms.
Without turning around, I asked quietly, “What do you want with me?”
“Sex.”
No emotion. No elaboration. The man who had surreptitiously and cleverly seduced his way into my heart was nowhere to be found.
Stabbing six inches of high-carbon steel between his eyes sounded more appealing by the second.
With the speed of a single heartbeat, I plucked a blade from its sheath, spun on my feet, and flung it toward his face. It whistled across the distance and clanked somewhere behind his dodging head.
The musculature of his bare torso looked menacing in the dim moonlight as a smile slanted his mouth, his voice deep and husky. “Do it again.”
He was toying with me, knowing full well there wasn’t a chance in hell I’d hit him. And deep in my soul, I knew I didn’t want to. Still, I refused to go down easy.
I released another knife, sucked in a breath, and ran toward him, swinging the blade at his face.
He sunk on flexed knees, snapped his hands up, and drove a palm against the outside of my striking arm. The action smacked the knife from my grip and sent my forward motion whirling sideways.
I stumbled to right myself, too slow. His chest collided with my back, his weight an inescapable force barreling down on me, aided by the sweep of his leg.
My feet lost purchase, flailing out behind me, and I slammed chest-down against the roof. The strength of his body pinned my chest to the hot shingles.
Motherfucker never held back when he fought me, and now… “Arrgh! You fucking asshole.” I was so fucked.
He wrenched my arms behind my back and restrained them with one hand against my backbone. I bucked against him, twisting my wrists, unable to break the hold. To my horror, he removed his belt and coiled it around my arms.
I redoubled my efforts, kicking for leverage and scratching at the skin on his stomach as the shingles seared my face. “Don’t do this.”
Unsure of what this was, I was damned certain I didn’t want to find out.
Given the unforgiving cinch of the belt, the set of his jaw, and the strength of his legs trapping mine, he was operating on pure instinct.
“Michio.” I writhed and spat and wore myself out. “You’re hurting me. You don’t want to do this.”
“Just listen.” His snarl seared my neck in wet heat. “Don’t speak until I’m done. Then you can fling your knives anywhere you want.”