calves, Sam grabbed her arm.
âWhat are you doing?â he demanded. She yanked on her arm, but he held firm.
In a single, swift movement, she twirled, swinging her other arm. But he knew the moveâbecause heâd practiced it right alongside her for yearsâand he caught her other hand. â
Stop
,â he said, but she swept her foot. She caught him behind the knee, sending him tumbling down. Sam didnât release her, and water and sand sprayed around them as they hit the ground.
Celaena landed on top of him, but Sam didnât pause for a moment. Before she could give him a sharp elbow to the face, he flipped her. The air whooshed out of her lungs. Sam lunged for her, and she had the sense to bring her feet up just as he leapt. She kicked him square in the stomach. He cursed as he dropped to his knees. The surf broke around him, a shower of silver.
She sprang into a crouch, the sand hissing beneath her feet as she made to tackle him.
But Sam had been waiting, and he twisted away, catching her by the shoulders and throwing her to the ground.
She knew sheâd been caught before he even finished slamming her into the sand. He pinned her wrists, his knees digging into her thighs to keep her from getting her legs under her again.
â
Enough!
â His fingers dug painfully into her wrists. A rogue wave reached them, soaking her.
She thrashed, her fingers curling, straining to draw blood, but they couldnât reach his hands. The sand shifted enough that she could scarcely get a steady surface to support herself, to flip him. But Sam knew herâhe knew her movements, knew what tricks she liked to pull.
â
Stop
,â he said, his breathing ragged. âPlease.â
In the moonlight, his handsome face was strained, his eyes wide. âPlease,â he repeated hoarsely.
The sorrowâthe defeatâin his voice made her pause. A wisp of cloud passed over the moon, illuminating the strong panes of his cheekbones, the curve of his lips; the kind of rare beauty that had made his mother so successful. Far above his head, stars flickered faintly, nearly invisible in the glow of the moon.
âIâm not going to let go until you promise to stop attacking me,â Sam said. His face was inches away, and she felt the breath of every one of his words on her mouth.
She took an uneven breath, then another one. She had no reason to attack Sam. Not when heâd kept her from attacking that pirate in the warehouse. Not when heâd gotten so riled about the slave children. Her legs trembled with pain.
âI promise,â she mumbled.
âSwear it.â
âI swear on my life.â
He watched her for a second longer, then slowly eased off of her. She waited until he was standing, then got to her feet. Both of them were soaked and crusted with sand, and she was fairly certain her hair had come half out of her braid and she looked like a raging lunatic.
âSo,â he said, taking off his boots and tossing them onto the sand behind them. âAre you going to explain yourself?â He rolled his pants up to the knees and took a few steps into the surf.
Celaena began pacing, waves splattering at her feet. âI just ⦠,â she began, but waved an arm, shaking her head fiercely.
âYou what?â His words were almost drowned out by the crashing waves.
She whirled to face him. âHow can you bear to look at those people and not do anything?â
âThe slaves?â
She resumed her pacing. âIt makes me sick. It makes me ⦠makes me so mad I think I might â¦â She couldnât finish the thought.
âMight what?â Splashing steps sounded, and she looked over her shoulder to see him approaching. He crossed his arms, bracing for a fight. âMight do something as foolish as attacking Rolfeâs men in their own warehouse?â
It was now or never. She hadnât wanted to involve him, but ⦠now that her
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley