I gasp. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” “Darling, that is a very loaded question.” I ignore his comment, unable to tear my eyes from the throwing knife buried deep into the flesh of his right shoulder blade. “You’ve had a knife in your back this whole time and you just let me talk?” I’m sputtering. A dimple accompanies his crooked grin. “Oh, but the sound of your voice was such a welcome distraction from the pain.”
