The steel tip of the silver knife trembled against Nikolai’s throat. A single, microscopic bead of dark crimson blood welled where the sharp point pressed into the skin above his collar. Yet Nikolai didn't flinch. His breathing remained slow, even, and infuriatingly steady. His emerald eyes burned down into hers with a hypnotic, predatory intensity that made Francesca’s blood roar in her ears. "What's the matter, Francesca?" Nikolai murmured, his…
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