From Blood and Ash by Jennifer L. Armentrout

How had he…? Myy gaze flicked to the narrow ridge of the wall
above. He’d run along that? It couldn’t be wider than a few inches.
He was insane.
“I’m aware that myy hair is in need of a trim, but yyour aim is off,” he
said. “You should reallyy work on that since I’m quite partial to myy face.”
Myy aim had been spot-on.
With a silent snarl, I waited until he was close enough, and then I
kicked out, catching him in the lower leg. He grunted as I jumped to myy
feet, ignoring the ache of what was surelyy a bruised hip and rear. I whirled
to the right, and he jumped to block me, but I darted to the left. He came
right back at me, and I kicked out once more—
Hawke caught me byy the ankle. I gasped, arms pinwheeling until I
steadied myyself. Wide-eyyed, I stared at him. He raised his brows as his
gaze traveled the length of myy bare leg. “Scandalous,” he murmured.
A growl of annoyyance burst from me.
He laughed. “And such daintyy little slippers. Satin and silk? Theyy’re
as finelyy tailored as yyour leg. The kind of slipper no guard of the Rise
would wear.”
How astute of him.
“Unless theyy are being outfitted differentlyy than I am.” Hawke
dropped myy ankle, but before I could run, he caught myy arm and yyanked
me forward. Suddenlyy, I was against him and on the tips of myy toes.
Air seized in myy lungs at the sudden contact. Myy breasts were
flattened against the hard leather and iron of his stomach. The warmth of
his bodyy seemed to bleed through his armor, sinking through myy cloak and
the thin gown underneath. A flash of heat rolled through me as I dragged
in a deep breath. Beyyond the rot of Craven blood, he smelled of dark spice
and lush smoke. A flush crept into myy cheeks.
His nostrils flared, and as crazyy as it sounded, the hue of his eyyes
seemed to deepen to a striking amber color. He lifted his other arm. “You
know what I think—”
The blade pressing into the skin of his throat silenced him. His lips
thinned as he stared down at me. He didn’t move or release me, so I
pressed the tip of the dagger in just enough. A bead of blood swelled just
below his throat.
“Correction,” he said, and then he laughed as the trickle of blood
seeped down his neck. It wasn’t a harsh laugh or a patronizing one. He