them apart. The thought that her own darkness had allowed her to push aside the consequences even for a heartbeat filled her with dismay.
Requiem’s voice was cold when she spoke. “Get dressed. You have no idea how to meet my needs. I have no interest in what you offer.”
The surprise on the other woman’s face was almost comical. “I don’t understand. I offered you what you want.” Confusion, doubt, and a hint of wariness entered her eyes. “This is what Requiem wants. This.”
Requiem reached down and handed her back her white robe. A protest formed on her lips, then fell, unsaid, as she looked deeper into Requiem’s eyes.
The woman pulled the robe on with jerky movements. The confidence of minutes before was evaporating and, as she slid her hand around one ear to curl her hair into place, the familiarity of the gesture hit Natalya in a blinding flash.
“It’s Mi Na, isn’t it?” she said in surprise, and she ran her eyes over her curiously. “Nabi’s sister? You were the one at boarding school while Nabi followed me around like a shadow, watching me as I learned the business. So you took over? In all her pursuits?” Her eyebrow lift was deliberately condescending.
How had this slip of a girl thought she could ever be as good as her assassin sister? Requiem studied her unmarked skin and bright eyes. No. There was no way she was an assassin. So what was she?
“Fuck you,” Mi Na said flatly, and the intonation was exactly the same as Nabi’s had once been when Requiem had shown her in vivid, naked detail the futility of trying to kill her. Worse, of trying to best her.
Mi Na narrowed her eyes and slowly reached for the CD player, turning up the volume on the gushing waterfalls and bird calls, to just short of deafening. Requiem tilted her head, watching her every move. She bounced lightly on her heels, waiting. The woman was an unarmed amateur. There was no threat. But she was curious.
Suddenly Mi Na reached for her foot and flipped her sandal over. Natalya saw the flash of metal too late.
She was fast, terrifyingly so, just like her sister had been, and slid the blade up to Requiem’s throat. But Requiem had three times the muscle mass on her, and immediately wrenched her hand away and twisted her arm behind her back. She debated whether to snap it. It would be so damned easy. A nice reminder as to who Mi Na was screwing with.
But Mi Na was as fast as Requiem was powerful. She took three light steps up the wall in front of her and somersaulted over Requiem, freeing her arm the moment her body was higher than her limb. On landing, she kicked the hot-rock crock pot at Requiem, who dodged it—barely.
Scorching rocks flew everywhere, tumbling under the table, towards the walls, and at Requiem, who kicked them away. Mi Na picked up a pair of the stones in her bare hands, seemingly not even noticing their searing heat. She hissed in fury, tossing one at Requiem’s head.
Requiem snapped her head away to allow it to whistle by, just as Mi Na hurled the other one. Using her forearm, Requiem smashed that away, too, ignoring the thud of pain. The rock flew straight back, slamming into Mi Na’s shoulder, and she grunted.
Mi Na threw her arms out wildly. One hand connected with a small, heavy Buddha statue which she grasped in her fist. She held it up like a club, swooping it viciously back and forth through the air. She hurled it.
Requiem spun out of the way. She didn’t move quite fast enough. The bronze weight thudded dully off her back, landing on a sore point. She winced. Again with her damn back scar?
She yanked the peace mobile down from the ceiling, just as the woman charged at her. Requiem sidestepped her like a bull fighter and wrapped the mess of metal and fishing line around her neck as she rushed by. Mi Na pulled up short and jerked and thrashed as the plastic wire bit savagely into her neck, her face turning hot red.
Requiem yanked hard, as Mi Na, clawing at her throat, desperately tried to free herself. Pulling her close, Requiem leaned into her ear. “One tug and you’re dead.” She yanked the fishing wire a little to make her point. “You’re nowhere near as good as your sister was. If Nabi had wanted it, I’d already be dead. I was