I ripped my left arm out of his hand and slammed my elbow into his solar plexus. He exhaled in a gasp. I lunged for the dagger and sat on top of him, my knees pinning his arms, my dagger on his throat. He lay still. I give up, he said and smiled. Your move. Er. I was sitting atop the Beast Lord in my underwear, holding a knife to his throat. What the hell was my next move?
Ilona Andrews