“Yes,” I finally say.
“I think we might be the only two brave enough to admit these things.” A fleeting glimmer of panic flashes in his eyes. He’s part of the Force. He’s not supposed to think like this, and he’s especially not supposed to voice it.
But what if it’s a trick? What if he knows I was sent to kill him and he’s only playing with me? This is my first hit. And it’s possible he’s more cunning than I’ve given him credit for. Maybe I’m not prepared to go up against him. I bow my head, confused.
“I’ve said something wrong,” he says, dropping his hand from my face.
I look up into his eyes. There’s sadness behind them, and his expression is worried. I squeeze my eyes shut. This has to end now. He has to end. For whatever reason I was sent, I don’t care anymore. I know my place, and I know his.
I open my eyes. “You’ve said nothing wrong,” I tell him. Then I watch his soft lips spread into an easy smile. With the hand still pressed against the tree, I slowly lift the back of my dress. His face inches toward mine as I grasp my dagger.
His lips just brush against mine before my dagger’s at his throat.
His eyes widen, and I press the blade into his skin, forcing him to back away. “I’m sorry,” I say.
“But this is my job.”
As I move away from the tree, my legs are kicked out from underneath me and I hit the ground. Bastard!
I roll to the side, barely escaping his hold as he lunges for me. I claw the earth, then pitch dirt into his face as I scramble backward. While he’s wiping his face I get to my feet.
“I knew you were playing me,” I say.
Xander rights himself and bounds to his feet. “What are you talking about? You tried to slit my throat!”
I nod, adrenalin pulsing in my veins. “And you were ready for it. You knew the whole time!”
“Knew what?” He eyes the dagger in my hand, then moves his gaze to my face. “That you’re mad? Who are you?”
“I’m not mad! And don’t try to backpedal. Who are you? What have you done? Has to be something recent, I was sent only today.” I move slowly, crossing one foot in front of the other, circling him.
He moves in the opposite direction, matching my steps as he watches me closely. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I lunge, jabbing my dagger, but he hurdles to the side and grabs my outstretched arm, spinning me. I grunt and elbow his side. That doesn’t faze him, and he wraps his other arm around my waist, hauling me to him—my back against his chest.
“Stop for a min—oomph.” I land a blow to his groin with the heel of my foot and he releases me.
“I’m tired of your games, lover boy,” I say, then I lunge again.
This time I clip his arm and blood darkens his uniform. He cups the bleeding sleeve, leaving himself open, vulnerable. Why doesn’t he go for his sword? I shake the thought from my head, ready to finish him. I go in for the kill, but he grabs my arm, dragging me over his shoulder and I land on my back hard, losing the grip on my weapon.
He bears down on top of me, anchoring my wrists to the ground. “Would you stop!”
I writhe beneath him. “Get off!”
I’m done, finished. I allowed him to mess with my head and it made me hesitate. Now that pause will cost me my life. I’m so angry with myself I can feel tears prickle in the corners of my eyes. I clamp them shut, waiting for him to kill me.
But the blow never comes. Slowly, I crack one eye open. His face is inches from mine, his dark eyes watching me.
“What are you waiting for?” I ask. “Do it. It’s embarrassing enough that I botched my first assignment, you have to make me suffer longer?”
He releases a heavy, frustrated breath. “I’m trying to decide how to tie you to a tree.”
“What?”
“Well,” he says, shaking his head. “I have to do something to keep you from attacking me.”
I squint my eyes, confused. “You’re not going to kill me?’