Page 178 of Boys Who Hunt

My God.

Is it the room that’s hot, or is it me?

“Knew you could do it,” he murmurs, grinning against my skin. “Well done, thief.”

I swallow down the lump in my throat as his hand slowly lowers from my waist, and he steps away to pull the knife out of the board.

“Why are you doing this?”

The words roll off my tongue before I realize it.

His brows draw together. “What? Teaching you how to throw a knife?” He casually tosses it in the air like it’s a plaything to him. “Because I can teach you a whole lot more if you’re into it.”

I don’t doubt he could, but that’s not what I want to know. “Why are you trying to help me?”

He pauses, his green eyes flickering with interest as if he hadn’t considered my question's answer before I said it out loud.

Slowly, he walks toward me, and with each step, I take one back, afraid of what might happen if I let a guy like him get close.

Because he’s no longer just that unhinged bully, that crazed killer.

Not since he saved me.

But the wall and I meet at an untimely moment, and I hold my breath as he plants a hand beside my head.

“Am I not allowed to help the girl who gave her body to me?”

He leans in, hovering dangerously close to my face.

“Am I not allowed to protect what’s mine?”

A shiver runs up and down my spine from the way he breathes close to my skin.

“You call me a monster, but far worse monsters are beyond those walls, and I think you know that.”

My teeth begin to clatter as he reaches for my arm and tucks the knife into the palm of my hand, curling my fingers around it.

“Take the knife. Wield it. Own it. So that when I’m not around …” He breathes out a sigh. “This body will still be safe.” He taps my chest, then turns around and nonchalantly walks to the middle of the room … right in front of the board.

“Now show me what you can do, twig.”

I grind my teeth. “Stop calling me that.”

“Or what?” He tilts his head, a mischievous smile forming on his face. “You gonna hit me, twig?”

My nostrils flare as I tighten my grip around the knife.

“Stop,” I grit.

“Just like you stopped depriving yourself of food when I told you to eat, twig?”

He doesn’t even have the slightest clue why, and it pisses me off.

“Go on, then. Throw it. Hit me. I know you want to.”

He’s just taunting me. The annoying part is that it’s seriously working.

“Aim here.” He points at his own heart. “If you can actually find it, you can keep it.”