“If I chop off your head, will it grow back?” Elara spun around and almost ran into Hugh. He loomed over her, his eyes dark, his face cold. A man that large shouldn’t have moved that quietly. “I don’t know,” she said, keeping her voice iced over. “We could do an experiment. You try chopping off my head and I’ll try to chop off yours. We’ll see who’s left standing.” A spark flashed in the depths of his blue irises. “Tempting.” “Isn’t it? You just have to tell me which head you want chopped off, the top one or the one you usually think with.” “Take your pick.”
