even a scratch. “I think,” he said, tugging it from my grasp, “it’s safe to say, Miss Bellator, you’ve already won me over.” With a lightning-fast flick of his fingers, he spun the blade in his palm to grip it by the handle. He stepped closer and smoothly slid the dagger back into my belt. “If you hadn’t, I’d be putting that knife somewhere other than your sheath.”
