Written for Day One of Tumblr's Leorai week. Each day for one week there is a theme prompt. Day one is Injured.

825 words - Rated T

"The little cracks they

escalated

before we knew it was

too late."

– Lies, The Swell Season

Her head lolled against the concrete as she caught her breath. Her eyes rolled to regard him, curled in an awkward crouch to one side, panting through gritted teeth. Without looking, she reached into a zippered pouch at her hip and pulled out a silken handkerchief.

He made no move. No indication that he saw her movement, though she knew he did.

Her arm remained suspended between them. White and still in the quiet night air, the cloth hung from between her index and middle finger. An offering, perhaps an apology.

His bloodshot eyes swept away.

His blood spilled in varied droplets, pattering the gray in tiny violent splatters.

With a sigh, she moved to stand. All in one fluid movement, on her feet, katana in hand, other releasing the cloth so that it drifted to the roof just in front of him. She turned her back to him. Made to leave.

"We're not done here," he rasped.

Karai paused. A glance over her shoulder. A shrug. Dismissive.

With a growl he lurched upright. The tanto gripped tight in his right hand.

As she spun, her leg shot out. Her foot knocked his hand to one side, but did not dislodge the dagger. He continued forward, twisting his shoulder around so that he grappled with her torso in a clumsy tackle meant to flip her aside. The two toppled across the rooftop.

Her fist struck the side of his head. Another blow struck him squarely in his snout. He shook off the flash of pain, blinking watering eyes. He brought the knife down and she caught his wrist, turning it with a grunt to deflect the sharpened edge away from her throat. It tricked across her jaw, biting into the flesh and leaving a long line of red.

Leo's elbow came down, pressing his forearm against her throat while her legs thrashed. He bucked, but pressed the weight of his bulk harder, pinning her. Her fist shot up, trying and failing, to strike at his wound underneath his left arm. She struggled a moment longer, squirming, teeth bared, until; finally, she relented and went limp under him.

Triumph shook him.

Face pale, Karai gave no indication that she was straining to breathe. Instead, calmly, she stared up at him, eyes not pleading nor surrendering, but rather, challenging him.

And in that instant, patience all but gone, temptation enticed.

How many times had he warned her not to go after his brothers? How many chances could she expect from him? Why did she have to run him to the brink, time and again? Pushing him into an impossible situation?

The blood loss from the wound beneath his arm was beginning to make him feel dizzy. The falling drops sang a tinny song against the breastplate of her armor. Ringing out a teasing melody through the pounding of his head.

He could end this, right here. Right now. And a part of him wanted to succumb to that dark urge. It would take but slightly more pressure at her throat and he'd be done with her. Forever.

One less thing to plague his mind. To keep him awake at night.

His arm moved away from her neck and Karai gasped, turning her head, sucking in the air with greedy gulps. She made a soft sound that captured his attention, a brief moan. He felt a tremor run through her body beneath him, bringing acute awareness to how they were positioned: her body pressed beneath him, pinned between his splayed thighs.

The scent of her perspiration mingled with the tang of blood, but under that was her own, uniquely feminine scent. Heat flared. His breath caught.

As if reading that silent, primal signal, Karai's head turned. Their eyes met. His, confused and wary, longing warring with frustration; hers flashed with knowledge, carnal and hot, returning something like unrestrained hunger to match his own.

Leonardo rolled from her. Facing away so that she might not read the flush in his cheeks, the racing of his pulse, might not see his wretched need, and what lay beneath that, so hidden, yet so eager to reveal itself to her, the taboo object of his heart's most fervent desire.

How he hated her; loving her, terribly.

His voice betrayed only the slightest tremble as he said, "Go, Karai. Before I change my mind."

He heard movement. Breathlessly with a hint of something more than teasing, she said, standing above and behind him, "What a pity you don't."

He closed his eyes as her footfalls diminished, not trusting himself to turn to watch her go. A breeze twirled the silken cloth she'd offered earlier to catch at his knee pad. He reached for it.

Tenderly, he pressed it up beneath his arm to the injury she left him with, the only one he could do anything about.