damia ravin speaks fluent sarcasm (contrabandist) wrote in emillion, |
The pain was immediate. Knuckles against bone never boded well, and the ache flared across her face as she lost her balance, catching herself before her hand connected with the wall. This wasn't working. Why wasn't it working already? The plan had been for Cian to punch the stupid out of her system, to bruise her so she could look in the mirror and remember how dumb she'd been.
But now, now Damia just felt angry, all of her badly suppressed fury bubbling up and setting her circulatory system back on fire.
She dropped both palms to her knees, hair falling like a curtain in her face for one, two, three-- and then she was spitting blood on the asphalt (her teeth had caught the inside of her cheek, but it was familiar, this taste). Light eyes met dark as she threw Cian a look, straightening to full height.
"Not exactly," she breathed, licking the taste of metal away. "But let's be honest, I could do better than that."