"Drop the blade, bounty hunter." Riven Hale's hand locked around Mara Voss's throat and drove her into the brick wall. "Or I start breaking things you need."
Mara's knife stayed pressed beneath his ribs. His coat bunched under her fist. Warm breath brushed her cheek, steady and annoyingly calm for a man with steel against his body.
"Try it," she rasped. "You break my neck, I cut your heart out."
"That's not how this works."
"Then explain it fast. I'm busy killing you."
His gray eyes dropped to the knife between them. No panic. No flinch. Just that cold, measuring look people whispered about in back alleys and locked courtrooms.
Riven Hale, Night Court enforcer. Wanted in three districts. Forty thousand crowns for his head. Twenty thousand if he was brought back breathing.
Mara needed the breathing bonus.
Her brother needed a cell key.
Riven's thumb pressed beneath her jaw. "You're standing on a ward."
"I know."
"No, you don't."
"I drew it."
"You drew a binding circle around the wrong man."
Mara shoved the knife deeper. His coat split. A thin line of blood slid over the blade.
"I know exactly who you are," she said. "Riven Hale. Court dog. Curse collector. Butcher of the South Gate."
"The court has a talent for improving its stories."
"Good. Then you'll enjoy the ending."
She twisted the blade.
Pain flashed through his face at last. His grip tightened. The muscles in his forearm went hard beneath her fingers, and the black marks crawling up his neck stirred like ink under glass.
Mara noticed the marks.
She had seen curse scars before. Never ones that moved.
Riven leaned close enough that his mouth nearly touched her ear. "Take the knife out."
"Make me."
"Gladly."
He caught her wrist and slammed it against the wall.
Her fingers opened. The blade dropped, but Mara kicked it before it hit the ground. It skidded beneath a stack of broken crates.
"Damn you." She drove her knee toward his stomach.
Riven turned his hip and took the blow against his thigh. Then he hooked her ankle and pulled.
Mara hit the bricks shoulder-first. The air punched out of her.
"You always fight this badly," he said, "or am I getting a special performance?"
She snatched a short iron spike from her belt and swung it at his temple.
He caught her hand in midair.
His palm covered hers. Heat soaked through her glove. His face was inches away now, sharp and hard and far too controlled.
"You brought three weapons to a meeting," he said. "That's either confidence or terrible planning."
"You brought a curse to a knife fight. That's worse."
His gaze sharpened.
Mara used the pause. She twisted under his arm, kicked the back of his knee, and drove her forehead into his nose.
Riven staggered.
Blood ran over his upper lip.
Mara grabbed the iron spike and ran.
She got six steps.
A black chain snapped around her ankle.
The chain yanked hard. She went down on one knee, palms scraping grit from the floor.
"Get off me!"
"You could have stayed down."
Riven pulled the chain once. Mara slid backward across the warehouse floor until her boots struck his.
He crouched over her, one knee planted beside her hip. His coat hung open, showing the torn shirt and the narrow cut she had made below his ribs.
The wound was already closing.
Mara stared at it. "That's not possible."
"You say that like the city still cares what is possible."
"You're healing."
"And you're observant. This is going well for both of us."
She drove the iron spike up.
Riven knocked her hand aside. The spike buried itself in the floor beside his thigh.
His fingers closed around her wrist again.
The moving black marks on his skin suddenly flared.
Mara felt the burn before she saw the blood.
A thin black line appeared beneath the skin of her wrist, matching the mark on his throat.
She stopped fighting for half a second.
Riven saw it.
His expression changed. Not surprise. Recognition.
"What did you do?" she demanded.
"You cut me inside a live binding circle."
"I asked what you did."
"I saved myself."
The black line raced from her wrist to the center of her palm. Heat shot up her arm. Mara clenched her teeth and tried to wrench free.
Riven's grip tightened until his knuckles went pale.
"Let go."
"Not yet."
"I swear, Hale, if you leave that mark on me, I'll carve yours off with your own knife."
"You don't understand the mark."
"Then start talking."
He pulled her closer. Her shoulder struck his chest. His heartbeat was fast now, rough against the space between them.
"It's a life-bind," he said. "My heart stops, yours follows."
Mara stared at him.
"You're lying."
"I don't need to lie. You already know something changed."
The mark pulsed.
Her chest clenched at the same time his did.
Mara sucked in a breath. Riven's eyes dropped to her mouth for one quick, dangerous second before returning to her eyes.
"You bastard."
"That's fair."
"Break it."
"I can't."
"You made it."
"I redirected it."
"Same difference."
"Not even close."
She lunged for his face with her free hand.
Riven caught that wrist too and pinned both above her head.
His body blocked the nearest exit. His knee held her coat against the floor. The chain around her ankle stayed tight.
Mara tested the position once. He shifted with her, close enough for the rough fabric of his shirt to drag over her knuckles.
"Move," she said.
"No."
"You want me helpless?"
"I want you alive."
"You don't know me."
"I know you carry a dead man's lockpick and a prison map sewn into your sleeve. I know you took this job for the crown, not revenge. I know the boy in Blackstone Cell shares your blood."
Her pulse slammed against his fingers.
Riven's mouth curved without humor. "There. That's the face I was waiting for."
"Say my brother's name again."
"Why? So you can pretend you aren't terrified?"
Mara jerked one knee up. He caught it against his thigh, but the movement dragged his hips closer and knocked the breath from both of them.
For one sharp second, neither moved.
His breath touched the corner of her mouth. She could feel the heat of him through two layers of clothing. His fingers remained locked around her wrists, but they loosened just enough for her to notice.
She used that inch.
Mara twisted, rolled, and slammed the heel of her boot into his ribs.
Riven grunted and fell sideways.
She ripped the chain free from her ankle. The metal burned her skin as it vanished into the black mark on his throat.
"You should have kept me pinned," she said.
"You should have killed me when you had the chance."
Mara snatched her knife from beneath the crates and charged.
This time she aimed for his heart.
Riven moved faster than a man should have been able to move. He stepped inside her reach, caught her forearm, and turned her into the nearest support pillar.
Her back hit iron.
The knife flew from her hand again.
"You have one trick," he said. "Run, stab, threaten."
"And you have one trick. Put your hands where they don't belong."
His jaw tightened. "Careful."
"Why? Afraid I'll hurt your feelings?"
"Afraid you'll make me stop being careful."
The words landed harder than the wall.
Mara looked at his mouth. She hated that she did. Hated the small pause that followed. Hated the way his grip shifted from her forearm to the pulse point in her wrist, like he could feel every stupid reaction she refused to show.
"You're not my type," she said.
"You don't know my type."
"Alive, probably."
"At the moment, my standards are lower."