Feint

“For you, I will,” he says.

“I’ll do anything,” she hears.

While she’s left reeling, registering and replaying his attack, his overall approach… he kisses her. He presses his lips to hers like he’s sealing a promise. It’s soft and precious, in direct contrast to the man he presents himself to be. The one with bloody, broken knuckles pressed against her jaw and cracked ribs that are mirrored back against her own whole ones. He coaxes her slowly, and although his lips are tinged with the metallic tang of blood, it’s everything she never allowed herself to imagine.

She fell for the feint and never saw him coming.