She scooted a leg out toward her guns, but Sanderson’s body settled on top of hers. The pressure from his rough landing stole air from her lungs. Before she whimpered, he seized her wrists in a vice-like grip above her head with one large hand.
“Bastard,” she spat before he grabbed her chin and faced her with vivacious golden eyes. “Your death will be my greatest masterpiece… next to the neurotic human.”
“Your aim needs work, but it’s improving. Now, if you’re done throwing a tantrum, I have your next assignment.”