[ She's been waiting for it — waiting for him to actually hit her like she knows he can, and there's some sick satisfaction in it when his forehead crashes into hers with such jarring force that it leaves her with spots in her eyes. As the world sways, she can feel a hot trickle of blood from her nose, dripping down along the bow of her upper lip. Fuck, that hurts — and hell, if she were in her right mind, she'd probably love him a little more for it.
Nothing more romantic than being headbutted by your lover.
It earns him an opening, anyway — she's still instinctively tense in his grip, wound up like she's ready to fight, but there's a handful of seconds where she's dazed enough to stall the shin-kicking — and where a Scythian is concerned, that's as good a chance as anybody will ever get. ]
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Nothing more romantic than being headbutted by your lover.
It earns him an opening, anyway — she's still instinctively tense in his grip, wound up like she's ready to fight, but there's a handful of seconds where she's dazed enough to stall the shin-kicking — and where a Scythian is concerned, that's as good a chance as anybody will ever get. ]