Wild Men of Alaska Collection - By Helmer, Tiffinie Page 0,110

he tipped her face up, his lips coming within a hair’s brush of hers. “Because of this.” His words rumbled over her lips as he kissed her. His mouth took hers, his tongue sliding past with no struggle as the shock of his possession, and his need, froze her into responding. She didn’t fight, so stunned she almost lost the grip on her blade. She cut her fingers clutching it in her grasp. He plundered, growling like the bear he’d been nicknamed as though he’d waited forever to feast.

What sick game was he playing now? Just as something tingled to life in her stomach—she prayed it was nausea—he tore his mouth free.

“Bozhe moi.” He released her, swiveled away, and paced to the fireplace. Bending, he tossed another log on the fire and stirred the coals with a poker. He stared into the flames for a long time before turning back to face her. His heaving chest was the only giveaway to the kiss he’d stolen from her. “You aren’t leaving here until you and I come to understanding.”

“What would that understanding be?” She held her breath as she severed through the last of the rope, grabbing the bindings in her hands, keeping them tight, so he wouldn’t know she was free.

“I care for you, and you care for me. There is more between us than hate, Katja.”

“The only thing I care about is killing you.”

She lunged.

CHAPTER FOUR

Sergei registered shock as Kate launched herself at him with a knife, and then excitement.

The woman was incredible.

He liked that she wasn’t afraid of him. Though this hate of hers needed to be refocused. He couldn’t keep defending himself, worried that his training would kick in and he’d hurt her without meaning to. It had bothered him deeply to choke the air out of her earlier. But he was prepared for this attack. Somehow he knew she’d get free even though he’d tied some serious knots.

But where the hell had she gotten the blade?

He’d patted her down after stripping her of her snowsuit and boots. What he’d liberated had more than surprised him. Multiple knives, two other guns, mace, and a retractable baton. Where had she hidden this pretty little beauty? And was there anything else on her person that he’d missed?

His hand blocked hers on the downward stab of the knife. She twisted out of his grasp and flirted away before he could get a better hold on her.

Wasn’t she something? Fearless.

He was twice her weight and at least a foot taller. She came at him again, lower this time, and he got lucky and immobilized her knife hand. He yanked her close, wrapping his other arm tight around her, bringing her flush against him, letting her feel every inch of his heavy hard-on this time.

He had his own hidden weapons.

Her eyes widened as she got his point, and she tore herself free of his embrace.

“Nice moves,” he commented, his nostrils flaring with anticipation for her next one.

“Why won’t you just die?” she gritted out through clenched teeth.

“Vhat vould be fun in that?”

She growled and lunged for him again. This time he used her momentum to swing her past him. She went flying across the room, falling into a bookcase that held an impressive assortment of books. A few tumbled and clattered to the hardwood floor. But she hadn’t dropped the knife.

“Nyet, Katja. I don’t vant to hurt you.”

“Well, you’ll have to kill me to get me to stop.”

She circled him, her hand locked around the small blade, her stance low. The blade was only a few inches long, but razor-sharp. Blood stained her fingers and dripped down her forearm, proving that it was wicked enough to take seriously. The blood angered him. She’d cut herself.

“You really going to fight me with that little thing?”

“Anything I have to do I will.”

“This vill end badly for you.”

Like a dance, they circled each other. Rapid blocks followed. Forearms, elbows, shins. Exhilaration heated his blood. There was no way he wasn’t getting “personal” with her in a knife fight. He’d yet to be bested; had, in fact, learned his skills at the hands of necessity on the streets of St. Petersburg.

She advanced, and he fended left, letting her slash at him, getting close, but never close enough. There were many things he could teach her. First, she needed to take the emotion out of the fight. It made her sloppy. This he knew she was aware of, but couldn’t seem to stop herself, which gave him