TRADING MY CHEATING HUSBAND FOR THE LYCAN KING
“That was rather the whole point, wasn’t it, dove. Whenever you’re ready.”
I go in.
And she’s gone.
I don’t even see how she does it. One second I’m closing the distance the way Knox drilled into me — centre of gravity, weight back, eyes on the chest — and the next I’m flat on the mat with the breath knocked clean out of my lungs, and she’s three feet away, exactly where she was standing, hands loose at her sides, looking down at me with mild interest.
“Oh, dear,” she says. “That was quick.”