Page 50 of Shadow Kissed
“So obvious,” he says, chuckling into my ear, and I growl in frustration. I swing my elbow up and under into his ribs, but he doesn’t even flinch, releasing me with a shove that has me staggering to stay on my feet. I grind my teeth together. I want to smash his smug, handsome face in. I spin to face him just as he attacks. I attempt to block him but miss. He’s just too damned quick and with one swipe across the back of my knees, he takes me down. Before I can even think about getting back up, he’s straddling me, and pins me in place with his staff against my neck.
“Yield, yet?” he asks casually, like this is child’s play to him.
“Oh, we’re just warming up,” I reply, trying to catch my breath.
He grins. A slow, confident grin that part annoys me, and part excites me. “You’re sweating an awful lot for just a warmup.”
I chuckle. I know what he’s doing. He’s trying to make me mad. What was it Arkynn’s father always said? The moment your anger controls you, is the moment you lose.
I grin back at him, pointing my daggers at him. “Do you creatures even sweat?”
He laughs, and it goes straight to my core. “You tell me you’ve got close enough to smell me. Want another sniff?”
We jump to our feet and we both charge each other, meeting with a clash. I go to undercut beneath his arms into his stomach, but he blocks me, his staff catching my elbow, Raegal swings out with his foot, knocking me off my feet once again, as I hit the floor with a thud. He’s on me again before I can blink, pinning my arms above my head and leaning over me.
I fake gag. “Oh wow, yes, you smell…”
“Of virility and stamina,” he suggests, arching his brow.
“Of stale krim and slutty women,” I reply, bucking my hips to get him to lift off me.
He laughs, licking his bottom lip. “Ah, by slutty you mean Asen women. I don’t bed Asen’s.”
I wiggle my arms to get out of his hold. “What a tragic loss to us all,” I deadpan.
“It really is.”
I buck my hips again and he growls at me, slamming my hands back down into the ground above my head. “Do you yield yet?”
“Never!” I hiss, lifting my head so I’m nearer to his face. “I’d fight to the death rather than yield to one of your kind.”
He rolls his eyes heavenward and scoffs. Releasing my hands, he climbs up off me, keeping his staff pointed at my neck. I move to sit up and he keeps it at my throat as I stand. “If this was areal weapon, you’d be dead in the next five minutes. Know when to quit.”
Applause pulls both our attention, and I look up into the seating area. “Jasiel! When did you get here?” I ask, knocking Raegal’s staff away from my person.
“Not long ago. I heard a whisper that the Lord Commander was fighting a girl in the arena and, well, I had to come and check it out,” he replies, winking at me then grinning at his commander.
It’s then that I notice a group of Asen soldiers sitting over the other side of the arena who have also been watching me spar with their leader.
“Were people concerned about their commander getting seriously injured?” I ask him, handing my daggers to Raegal, who simply tuts in amusement and returns the weapons to their rightful place.
Jasiel swings over the wooden railing and onto the arena floor. “I think the fact that there’s a female in here fighting is more what caused the excitement.”
Raegal scowls at his words and barks orders at the spectating Asen soldiers to return to their duties. Jasiel takes in my clothes and his grin widens. “I can see why,” he says, cocking his head at me. “Maybe our king should introduce female fights into the programme.”
I place my hands together in prayer. “Anything’s better than damn crocheting. It makes me want to gouge my eyes out.”
Jasiel laughs at me just as Raegal throws my dress to me. “Change in the tunnel and then I’ll get you back to the academy.”
I look down at the dress bunched up against my chest. “No way am I putting this impractical thing back on,” I tell him, walking backwards towards the exit. “Besides, I’m not ready to go back yet.”
Raegal’s eyes darken as he watches me retreat towards the entrance. “Where do you think you’re going, Terror?”
I shrug and hold my hands upwards. “Anywhere but the stuffy mansion.” But my foot doesn’t get to take a step over the exit. His shadows snake out, ensnaring me by my wrists and ankles, and he pins me to the wall of the arena.
“Mother Crystals! Release me now!” I demand, squirming and fighting to get out of his hold. Not replying, he strides towards me, his eyes fixed on mine. When he reaches me, he steps into my personal space, and I lied before—he doesn’t smell of stale Krim and slutty women. He smells forbidden.
“It’s not safe for you to be walking round without an escort.”