It’s #WIP Wednesday again and we’re back with more from my upcoming release ‘Early Sins’ the prequel for ‘Lethal Sin‘. I premiered the cover already, so make sure to check it out! If you’ve already read ‘Lethal Sin’ you may have been a little curious about Camille’s sordid past, about how she got involved in the assassin game, which ultimately puts her on the path to collide with Mateo in the first book. I was so caught up in Camille’s story myself that this prequel started flowing out. I’m not sure when I’ll have it finished (hopefully out before the end of August). This scene is the continuation of several blog hops, if you want to catch up. Read: this one, then this one. In this extended scene Smith caught up to Camille after he told her to run and she went on the offensive, trying to take him down, but he has a lesson to teach her about the darker sides of the world of assassins.
When she blocked his next punch, she spun and caught the side of his head with a dizzying kick, delivering a hard strike to his ribs again as soon as she landed. His ears were ringing, but he’d taken harder hits – and she was going to understand what it was like to fight someone like him before the sun rose.
She over extended on her next punch and he landed one to her stomach, hard. When she bent forward he wrapped his arm around her throat and stepped behind her. As soon as he locked his arm in place she tried to duck her chin, grabbing onto his forearm in her attempt to break the hold, but he was ready for the move he’d taught her. Before she could fight he coiled his fist into her hair and tightened it.
With her head forced back, unable to tuck her chin under his arm to get free, she was trapped, and by his estimates she only had about twenty more seconds before she was unconscious.
Come on, fight me. Don’t give in. Figure it out. Fight.
As if she’d heard him, Camille suddenly dropped her weight, forcing him to support her fully, which bent him forward and let her wind her leg behind his. In an instant she buckled his knee, and twisted out of his grip. Camille’s first gasp of air was followed by a sharp elbow strike that felt like a stab to his kidneys as she landed atop him, before rolling to the side.
Good. A smart move, quick thinking under pressure.
But then she stayed close to try and finish the fight, and with her on the ground next to him he was able to catch one wrist as she tried to hit him in the throat. He threw one leg over hers to block the kick he knew would follow, a curse escaping her lips as she went to strike with her other arm. Twisting, Smith avoided her fist and was on top of her a moment later, her wrists pinned, his weight settling over her thighs – and as he looked down at her, with her curves under him, his brain short circuited for a moment.
All he could think of was the kiss they’d shared.
They’d been in this same position, her cheeks flushed the same way, and he remembered the eager way her lips had parted for him, how she had pressed upward into the kiss. He still dreamed about it sometimes, dreamed about more than just a kiss before waking up rock hard, but he pushed it all away. Pushed away the memory of Bill trying to convince him she wanted him. Actually wanted him – but it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter what either of them wanted, or how much he wanted to kiss her again. This was about what Camille needed, and more than anything she needed to understand the reality of her situation.
Smith took a moment to catch his breath, feeling the tremor in her muscles as she evaluated his position. Don’t back down now. He kept his voice empty, cold, “What could I do to you right now, C?”
“Kill me,” she spoke through gritted teeth, her anger at failing to win the fight surfacing.
“What if I didn’t want to kill you? What if I wanted information out of you?”
“Then you’d fucking torture me.”
Camille went quiet, her muscles still, and he forced himself to maintain eye contact with her as the situation fully settled over her. Crystal blue eyes flickered before she spoke softly, “Let me up, Smith.”
“No.” He moved his face a little closer to hers. “What could I do to you right now? Say it.”
“Let me the fuck up!” Jerking hard at his grip on her, she tried to tilt her hips and break free, but he dropped his weight over her and squeezed until he could feel the fine bones of her wrists grinding under his hand. A low whine of frustration escaped her and then she mumbled a series of curses, clenching her eyes tight.
She has to face this.
Using his free hand he grabbed her chin hard and forced her to look at him again. “You need to say it. Out loud.”
“You could fuck me, rape me, do whatever you wanted.” The words were hollow, distant, and somewhere in a part of his mind he was ignoring the words were barbed with broken glass and razor wire, tearing him up.
“Yes.” He swallowed down the bile in his throat. “You’re a beautiful girl, C. And you won’t always be hunting targets that don’t know how to fight. You won’t always be the hunter. Sometimes people will come after you. Trained people, strong people, and they might want you to tell them something you know.” He released her chin, running his thumb along her cheekbone before he made himself pull his hand away from her soft skin. “And they aren’t going to stick to simple torture with you.”
“Simple torture?” She rolled her eyes, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “Like torture is nothing?”
“They’re not just going to hit you, threaten you, or whatever they would do with me or any other man – they are going to do whatever they can think of to break you.”
Smith is willing to do whatever he has to in order to make Camille strong, even when it hurts him in the process. Make sure to come back on Saturday for the #SatSpanks conclusion of this fight! In the mean time, don’t miss these other sexy snippets below…