[And oh, it stings. Even Nisha-- a cold-blooded killer that lives her life for the surge of adrenaline in her veins-- doesn't have either the foresight or iron-clad nerves enough to stifle a cry of pain for it. It's a weapon. It kills. Whatever it's used for beyond that never negates the fact. Blood is quick to swell up under where Jack's managed to tangle it across the fine bones of her wrist, and her lips are parted, sharp edges of her teeth exposed as she shuts her eyes to inhale the lingering rush.
As he yanks her towards him with enough force to pull her from her perch.
There's something feral in those gold eyes when they open again. Predatory, charged-- instinct wanting to override familiarity or reason. He doesn't know how lucky he is: she'd bleed him out, tear his throat to ribbons with her teeth - and somehow she loves him too much to do either on a whim.]
no subject
As he yanks her towards him with enough force to pull her from her perch.
There's something feral in those gold eyes when they open again. Predatory, charged-- instinct wanting to override familiarity or reason. He doesn't know how lucky he is: she'd bleed him out, tear his throat to ribbons with her teeth - and somehow she loves him too much to do either on a whim.]