Chapter Sixteen
-Xaden-
“Don’t you see what happened? What Xaden’s done?” Aetos asks Sorrengail, panicking like the infantry soldier he should have been and insinuating that I changed the outcome of Threshing.
If I act every time someone drags my name through a pile of bullshit, I’ll never get anything done. For the most part, I take note of the offense, file it away for future consideration, and move on. As Sgaeyl loves to remind me, dragons are not concerned with the opinions of the sheep…or most humans.
But Aetos’s fingers dent in on the shoulders of Sorrengail’s uniform, right above the bandage from where she took the blade from that limp-dick first-year Tairn incinerated, and unexplainable rage pumps into my veins like little shards of ice, cutting everything in its path. I slam my mental shields down just like I do every time I’m near anyone, let alone a memory-reader.
“Please, do tell me what it is you think I’ve done.” I step into the moonlight that illuminates most of the flight field and sever the flow of power from Sgaeyl, letting the night’s shadows fall back into their natural state so this asshole can see me clearly.
“You manipulated Threshing.” Aetos takes his hands off Sorrengail’s shoulders, and I decide to let him keep them. For now.
Seriously. Of all the laws I break around here, that’s the one he goes with?
I almost laugh, but then the asshole puts himself in front of Sorrengail, like Violence actually needs his protection. He didn’t see her out there on the field today like I did, or he wouldn’t be hovering like a nanny.
“Dain, that’s…” Sorrengail steps out from behind him.
“Is that an official accusation?” Gods, please give me a reason to beat the pompous, Codex-loving shit out of him. Just once.
“He’s nothing but an irritant. Have some self-control,” Sgaeyl lectures, like her affection for the little gold dragon isn’t what put us in this fucking situation.
I keep my gaze locked on Aetos and off Sorrengail’s wide, hazel eyes and the scrapes that mar her skin. I definitely don’t let my attention wander down those tight curves—
Fuck, she’s a distraction. One I can’t afford, and yet one I’ve just been saddled with for the rest of my godsforsaken life. And instead of glaring up at me with that fire I can’t seem to stay the fuck away from, it’s fear making her eyes appear more amber than blue in the moonlight.
Fear for…Aetos? Something unpleasant twists in my gut.
“Did you step in?” Aetos questions, his voice pitching toward whiny.
“Did I what?” I lift my brow, letting all my loathing for his spoiled ass shine through. The pint-size morsel of straight-up arsenic nearly got herself killed on that field, and his concern is for protocol? “Did I see her outnumbered and already wounded? Did I think her bravery was as admirable as it was fucking reckless?” I make the monumental mistake of looking at her, and the rigid hold I keep on my temper slips. She could have died out there. She almost did. Right in front of me.
“And I would do it again.” She tilts her stubborn chin at me.
“Well-the-fuck-aware!” Shit. So much for only slipping— my control just evaporated. “Did I see her fight off three bigger cadets?” I narrow my eyes at Aetos. “Because the answer to all of those is yes. But you’re asking the wrong question, Aetos. What you should be asking is if Sgaeyl saw it, too.”
“You did not just bring me into this nonsense.”
“You sure as hell dragged me into it. Since when do you get all mushy over smaller dragons?” Not that the golden one isn’t cute. But going soft on cute gets you killed out here, which is exactly what makes Sorrengail so dangerous for me.
Aetos looks away nervously, as he should.
“His mate told him,” Sorrengail whispers. Guess someone filled her in on Tairn and Sgaeyl’s mating bond.
“Since when do you get emotional over human women?” Sgaeyl challenges.
“I’m pissed, not emotional,” I correct her. “She’s never been a fan of bullies,” I confirm. “But don’t mistake it as an act of kindness toward you. She’s fond of the little dragon. Unfortunately, Tairn chose you all on his own.”
“Fuck,” Aetos murmurs, finally putting it together.
“My thought exactly.” I shake my head at the squad leader. “Sorrengail is the last person on the Continent I’d ever want to be chained to me. I didn’t do this.” In one second on that field, my attitude toward Violence changed from maybe-I’ll-kill-her-or-maybe-I-won’t to protect-her-at-all-costs.
And not because she’s brilliant, or beautiful, or infuriatingly capable of shredding my carefully crafted control, even though she’s absolutely all of those things. No. I had no choice in this. Tairn made my decision for me.
“And even if I had.” I step into Aetos’s space, and to his credit, he doesn’t retreat as I hover over him. “Would you really level that accusation knowing it would have been what saved the woman you call your best friend?” At some point, Sorrengail is going to have to recognize that the last year in the quadrant has changed her little friend into someone she doesn’t actually know.
His silence is fucking delicious, saying more to incriminate him than I ever could.
“There are…rules,” he stammers, trying his best to stare me down even though I have inches on him. Odd time to grow a spine, but good for him.
“And out of curiosity, would you have, let’s say, bent those rules to save your precious little Violet in that field?” Her name tastes odd on my tongue, softer than the nickname I prefer.
“This is cruel, even for you,” Sgaeyl notes with a hint of amusement.
“It’s unfortunate that it hurts her, but she’s going to have to toughen up to survive our partnership, and Aetos can’t be anywhere around us.”
“Oh, so we’re not discussing that you were already moving when Tairn landed?” she fires back. “That had he not arrived, you’d be guilty of the very thing the colonel’s offspring accuses you of doing?”
“I moved on instinct to protect—”
“Let’s not embarrass each other by letting you finish that sentence.”
I fucking hate when she does that. She’s the only being on the Continent with a sharper tongue than mine. Well. Violence might give her a run for her money.
Damn, Aetos still hasn’t answered.
“That’s unfair to ask him.” Sorrengail walks straight up to me, putting herself beside Aetos as the rhythmic beat of dragon wings fills the air. Guess the Empyrean has made its choice as to if they’ll let her bond both dragons.
“I’m ordering you to answer, squad leader.” I lock my gaze on his. Come on. Show her who you really are.
Aetos swallows so obnoxiously loud that I can hear it, then squeezes his eyes shut. “No. I wouldn’t have.”
I scoff. Fucking rule-loving coward. He doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as Violence. She’s half his size and a thousand times braver. Talk about a disproportionate relationship. There’s no rule in this godsforsaken college that would keep me from saving Bodhi’s, Garrick’s, or Liam’s life…and now hers.
Aetos swings his face toward Sorrengail, but even I can see the damage is done. She looks like someone just shredded her favorite book.
Shit. What is that uncomfortable weight sitting in my lungs? Is that… No. It can’t be guilt. I can’t remember the last time I felt guilty about…well…anything that didn’t involve a marked one.
“It would have killed me to watch something happen to you, Vi, but the rules—” Aetos whines.
“It’s all right,” she interrupts, lifting her hand to his shoulder.
And it’s enough to turn the guilt to nausea, which I’m oddly thankful for.
“The dragons are returning.” I note the obvious as they start to land, causing cadets to scramble out of the way. “Get back to formation, squad leader.”
Aetos scurries away like the little rat he is.
“Why would you do that to him?” Sorrengail damn near shouts at me, then shakes her head. “Forget it.” She dismisses me, walking away without another word.
I blink. Swear to Amari, the five-foot-nothing pain in my ass is the only person who ever has the nerve to dismiss me. I’m moving before my common sense can tell me to leave well enough alone.
“Because you put too much faith in him.” I catch up to her in a matter of steps. “And knowing who to trust is the only thing that will keep you alive—keep us alive—not only in the quadrant but after graduation.”
“There is no us,” she retorts, barely avoiding a collision with another rider running by, causing my heart to jolt. Yesterday, I might not have cared.
Today, her blood is my blood.
“Oh, I think you’ll find that’s no longer the case.” I grab hold of her elbow and pull her out of the path of another imminent collision. Is this what it’s going to be like, trying to keep this woman alive? She’ll stand up to three armed bullies to defend the smallest dragon, but she won’t watch where the fuck she’s walking? “Tairn’s bonds are so powerful, both to mate and rider, because he’s so powerful. Losing his last rider nearly killed him, which, in turn, nearly killed Sgaeyl. Mated pairs’ lives are—”
“Interdependent, I know that,” she snaps back, anger highlighting the blue in her eyes as she rips her gaze from mine, focusing on the movement of the riot as they land.
What in Dunne’s name is wrong with me that I’m noticing shit like that?
“Now who’s getting mushy?” Sgaeyl asks.
“Attracted and mushy aren’t the same thing.” And I’m already pissed at myself for the first. I’m sure as hell not slipping into the second. “Each time a dragon chooses a rider, that bond is stronger than the last, which means that if you die, Violence, it sets off a chain of events that potentially ends with me dying, too. So yeah, unfortunately for everyone involved, there’s now an us if the Empyrean lets Tairn’s choice stand.”
Her eyes flare and her lips part.
And I’m definitely not thinking about her mouth, not when I have bigger concerns like how to keep her alive. Not thinking about the best angle to kiss her, either. Or what her perfect ass would feel like in my hands.
“And now that Tairn is in play, that other cadets know he’s willing to bond…” Gods, they’re going to come after her. On the mat. In the halls. In the damned bathing chamber that I can’t exactly patrol. I force my gaze away and exhale with enough force to actually call it a sigh.
“That’s why Tairn told me to stay with you,” she whispers, like she’s finally grasping the severity of our situation. “Because of the unbonded.”
“The unbonded are going to try to kill you in hopes they’ll get Tairn to bond them.”
Garrick heads my way, and I shake my head. Any news he has from last night’s mission has to wait. “Of all the people in the quadrant, Tairn had to bond Sorrengail?” Life is about to get infinitely more complicated.
“Feel free to question his motives,” Sgaeyl suggests.
“Hell no. I prefer my head attached.” He’s one surly motherfucker. “Tairn is one of the strongest dragons on the Continent, and the vast power he channels is about to be yours. The next few months, the unbonded will try to kill a newly paired rider while the bond is weak, while they still have a chance of that dragon changing its mind and picking them so they’re not set back a full year. And for Tairn? They’ll do just about anything.” I can’t help but sigh for real this time. “There are forty-one unbonded riders for which you are now target number one.” I hold up my pointer finger.
“And Tairn thinks you’ll play bodyguard.” She snorts. “Little does he know just how much you dislike me.”
“He knows exactly how much you dislike her and how often you stare—”
“I will volunteer for every cold-weather mission in existence if you—”
“Rude. As if your inability to control your own hormones should result in my discomfort.” She mentally shudders. Ruthless and vicious as my girl might be, she draws the line at the cold unless we’re flying for Aretia.
“He knows exactly how much I value my own life,” I counter, my gaze roaming down Sorrengail’s body. There’s absolutely nothing to dislike about what I see. In fact, if Amari herself ever designed a woman with my downfall in mind… Well, fuck. Maybe that’s exactly what Violence is—my downfall. Soft skin. Sharp mind. Fierce temper. Deadly with a dagger. Brave to a fault. And utterly unruffled. “You’re freakishly calm for someone who just heard she’s about to be hunted.” What makes her lose complete control? What kind of man would she let unravel her?
“She’s two years your junior and in your chain of command.” Sgaeyl feigns outrage.
“And you’re fifty years younger than Tairn. Your point?”
“It’s a typical Wednesday for me.” Sorrengail shrugs, and my gaze locks onto the flush in her cheeks, that delicate bloom of pink that tells me she’s not as unaffected by me as she likes to pretend. “And honestly, being hunted by forty-one people is a lot less intimidating than constantly watching dark corners for you.”
Fair point.
The gold dragon lands behind us, followed by the monstrosity Sgaeyl calls a mate, and I walk the hell away as quickly as possible now that Sorrengail’s protected, heading across the field to where Sgaeyl waits at the end of the row with the other wingleaders’ dragons.
Garrick stands just off to the side of Chradh—his Brown Scorpiontail—and lifts his eyebrows as I approach. “So, you and the general’s daughter…”
“Not funny.” I shake my head and ignore Sgaeyl’s chuff beside me as General Melgren takes the front of the dais. My skin crawls, just like it always does when he’s near. Fucking murderer. It’s not hard to tune him out; I’ve practiced ignoring him for years. Besides, I don’t need to listen in order to know what he’s going to say.
Tairn will get his way. She’ll bond both dragons. Even the Empyrean isn’t going to tell the second-largest dragon on the Continent no when he finally wants to bond. They want him back on the battlefield.
“Is this going to be a problem?” Garrick asks as Melgren prattles on.
“No.”
“Right.” The word drips with sarcasm.
“I’m fine.” I scan the first-years who survived Threshing.
“I’ve seen corpses more fine than you,” my best friend mutters.
“Of course corpses are fine. They have nothing to worry about.” And I’ve just been handed Violet-fucking-Sorrengail to protect if I want to live. Which I do. Or rather, I have to. Especially since Melgren just announced that she gets to bond her dragons.
I lower my shields just enough to feel for the bond. The hard sapphire one I share with Sgaeyl is locked into place as always, but now there are two more. The onyx I recognize as Tairn, and the other, a glimmering strand of…silver, like the ends of her hair. Fuck. He really did bond her. Only a mating bond like Sgaeyl and Tairn’s could link me to another rider whether or not I want it.
Sorrengail looks across the field at me, and I slam my shields back into place and hold up my pointer finger. She’s now target number one around here, and my biggest liability.
“Guess we’ll need to keep her alive,” Garrick mutters as General Sorrengail steps forward to give her yearly speech about family even though she threw hers to the dragons.
“Yes.” How the hell am I going to keep her alive through all the first-year shit I’m nowhere near? I look across the field and spot Liam, my foster brother, standing in front of his new Red Daggertail as the dragons gift their riders with relics to channel magic. “Maybe I should move Liam into her squad.”
“Liam?” Garrick questions.
“He’s the best in his year.” I nod as the first-years break out in celebration. “I trained him to fight, so I know he’s capable of protecting her.” Plus, he’s as loyal to me as I am to him.
“Or you could give her a chance to make it on her own first.” Garrick folds his arms across his chest and glances sideways at me.
There are a multitude of reasons he might be right.
“But if that’s the route you choose, everyone likes Liam, so hopefully she will, too. It will make it easier for him to guard her.”
“She’ll like him.” That unpleasant feeling flares in my gut again, twisting into a knot.
Garrick grins. “Don’t worry. He won’t fuck her.”
My eyes narrow at Garrick. “Why would I care if he…” The words die on my tongue as Aetos walks behind Sorrengail and reaches for her back. That asshole is unlacing her armor. He’s got his hands on her skin. I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth to quell the quickly rising nausea.
“Relax, he’s lacing her back up,” Garrick says, and I know without looking the asshole is still smiling. “See? She’s already turning around.”
Sorrengail turns in Aetos’s arms, and he lifts his hands to her face. No doubt he’s pilfering through her memories to see if I actually interfered.
“Nothing to… Oh shit.” Garrick’s voice fades to a whisper as Aetos lowers his head and kisses Sorrengail.
Fire rushes through my veins and shadows spasm around me, distorting my vision for a second. Dain-fucking-Aetos has his mouth on my Violence.
Not mine. But that doesn’t stop the knot in my stomach from unfurling, spreading like acid into my system, burning through my chest and making it hard to draw breath until that snot-nosed asswipe lifts his head.
“Damn. You all right over there?” Garrick asks, laughter lacing his tone.
“I’m…” I pin my feet to the field with shadows to keep from marching over there and feeding Aetos my fist. How fucking dare he kiss the mouth he wouldn’t bend a rule to protect, when I would—
“Yes, what would you do?” Sgaeyl asks.
Fuck me. What wouldn’t I do?
“You’re looking a little green.” Garrick flat-out laughs, and I force air in and out of my lungs as Sorrengail steps back from Aetos.
He grins down at her, but…wait. She isn’t returning the sentiment. No, Sorrengail looks like she just accidentally kissed her cousin and can’t retreat fast enough. Talk about awkward.
“In twenty years, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you jealous before. This is amazing.” Garrick claps his hand on my shoulder.
Jealous. That’s exactly what this hot, corrosive feeling is—jealousy. And now I’m linked to this woman for the rest of our lives.
I need to stay as far away from her as possible.
“But you won’t,” Sgaeyl predicts, and I’d be tempted to raise my middle finger if I didn’t think she’d bite the damned thing off as a reminder that she can.
Chapter Nine
-Xaden-
“You don’t think you’ll need those?” Sorrengail asks, gripping two of her daggers and facing me on the mat with an impressive lack of trembling. Hell, she looks more pissed than she does terrified that I’m about to end her, even though I’ve handed my weapons to Imogen.
“This is reckless,” Sgaeyl lectures.
“Nope. Not when you brought enough for the both of us.” My mouth quirks into a smile as I crook my fingers at her, then lock my shields firmly in place, since Aetos hovers close by. The second-year is good on the mat, even if he’s a little too straight-laced to really be the best in this place. “Let’s go.”
She takes a fighting stance, and I forget the members of Second Squad surrounding the mat, forget the mission I’m due to fly this weekend, focusing solely on her. Violet Sorrengail. The five-foot-nothing daughter of the general who executed my father. I have every right to ruin her, according to the Codex. She might fall under my chain of command, but she’s not in my squad.
I could snap her neck and no one in this room would interfere. But the hundred and seven souls I’m responsible for would pay the price. So what the fuck am I doing on this mat?
Her posture changes subtly, her wrist flicking a second before she flings a dagger at my damned chest.
I catch it by pure reflex, then cluck my tongue at her. “Already seen that move.”
That is what I’m doing out here. Took me all of two weeks to realize she’s somehow figured out who she’ll be facing and has been poisoning her opponents. That brilliant, devious mind might regrettably be a complete turn-on, but she’s going to get herself killed if she depends solely on that method—and flinging daggers like a carnival act. To my surprise, the thought doesn’t sit right with me. Nothing about her does.
She attacks in a typical first-year swipe-and-kick combo, which is as easy to predict as it is to block. I pluck the badly balanced dagger from her grip and catch her by the thigh, using her own momentum and slight bodyweight against her to drop her to the mat.
Her hazel eyes flare wide as she stares up at me, fighting to draw breath, and I drop the dagger at her side and kick it out of her reach, toward the squad leader who should have taught her better.
Were she any other opponent, I’d put the blade against her throat, proving my point and ending the match, but fuck me if I don’t feel like I somehow owe the first-year for keeping her mouth shut about the meeting she saw under the oak tree. My form of gratitude just happens to be not killing her as she lies at my feet, battling her own lungs.
Her ribs finally rise, and she heaves herself upward to a sitting position, then tries to plunge a knife in my thigh.
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
I block the strike with my right forearm, then take hold of her wrist with my left hand and disarm her as I lean down into her space, mere inches from her face. “Going for blood today, are we, Violence?” I whisper.
Rage shines in those mesmerizing eyes as I drop her blade to the mat and kick it out of reach also. She’s too easy to disarm, and her false confidence that she’s not will get her killed. And why the fuck isn’t she using weapons suited for her body type and fighting style? Not that she actually has a fighting style yet.
“My name is Violet,” she retorts, and I half expect her to hiss at me like a cat. That’s exactly what she reminds me of, all sleek lines and bared claws. Only the pulse fluttering beneath my fingertips gives away her fear.
Violet is too soft of a name for her. Too breakable. I’m well aware of the shit people talk about her bones and joints, but from what I’ve seen, the woman has a core of steel.
“I think my version fits you better.” I release her wrist and stand to my full height, offering her a hand up and hoping she’s too smart to take it. “We’re not done yet.”
But she does.
Fuck me, she’s naive. I pull her to her feet, then whip her around before she can get her bearings, twisting her arm behind her back and trapping our hands between us as I tug her hard against my chest. Too naive for this place.
“Damn it!” she snaps.
I slip one of her obnoxiously big daggers from her thigh sheath and lift it to the soft skin of her throat, pinning her in place with my forearm. Her head falls back against my chest, the silver ends of her hair braided up like a crown. She barely reaches my collarbone, so I dip my head so the others won’t hear, and gods she smells really fucking good like—
No thinking about how she smells, jackass.
“Don’t trust a single person who faces you on this mat,” I lecture quietly near the shell of her ear, careful to keep my mouth off her. Since when do I think about putting my mouth on an opponent?
“Even someone who owes me a favor?” she retorts, keeping her voice equally low.
Warmth flares in my chest in appreciation of her discretion, her quick observation that this lesson isn’t for public dissemination, and I drop the knife, kicking it to her squad leader just like the other two and ignoring the bluster of threat in his stern expression.
“I’m the one who decides when to grant that favor. Not you.” I release her so I don’t dislocate her shoulder and step back.
She acts immediately, spinning with a raised fist, and I bat it away from my throat.
“Good.” I can’t help but smile as I block her next attempt just as easily. “Going for the throat is your best option, as long as it’s exposed.”
Her cheeks flush, anger narrowing her eyes as she kicks in the same fucking combination she’s already tried, and I grab hold of her thigh again, unsheathing the last dagger there and letting it fall before I release her. I lift my scarred eyebrow in sheer disappointment. She’s smarter than that. “I expect you to learn from your mistakes.” I kick it to Aetos.
She retrieves her next weapon from her rib sheath and takes a defensive stance as she circles me. It’s all I can do not to sigh in complete, utter annoyance. I don’t need to see her to hear every step on the mat behind me as she hesitates.
“You going to prance or are you going to strike?” That should get her moving.
The shadows on the mat give her away, and I twist and duck as she jabs forward, the knife slicing through the air where I’d been standing. At least she really went for it, but the move leaves her exposed, so I use her arm to flip her around the side of my torso, sending her face-first into the mat and following her down.
She gasps when I wrench her arm into a submission hold, forcing her to drop the dagger. Careful to balance most of my weight on my right, I set my left knee onto her back just enough to stress her. She has to learn how to move under pressure, how to think on the edge of death. I strip away another of her daggers and fling it at the squad leader’s feet, then pull another from her ribs and set it to the exposed skin beneath her jaw.
Then I invade what little space she has. “Taking out your enemy before the battle is really smart; I’ll give that to you,” I whisper into her ear, and she tenses beneath me. Yeah, Violence, I know what you’ve been up to. “Problem is, if you aren’t testing yourself in here”—I drag the blade down her neck, careful not to draw blood—“then you’re not going to get any better.”
“You’d rather I die, no doubt,” she spits back, the side of her face squished against the mat.
“And be denied the pleasure of your company?” Sarcasm drips from my retort.
“I fucking hate you.”
A corner of my mouth lifts. Gods, she’s just as merciless as Sgaeyl when it comes to her tongue. “That doesn’t make you special.”
I gain my feet and kick the knives to Aetos, leaving Sorrengail with two more to fight with as I offer my hand again.
She scowls, but doesn’t take the help this time, standing on her own, and another smile curves my mouth. I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun. Every single one of her expressions is beautifully raw. There’s no guile. No artifice. But there’s also no control. “She can be taught.”
“She’s a quick learner,” she fires back.
“That remains to be seen.” I take two steps backward and beckon her forward by crooking my fingers again.
“You’ve made your damn point.” Her voice rises to a public level, and Imogen gasps behind me, no doubt worried that I’ll lose my temper and kill the first-year.
But killing her is the last thing on my mind.
“Trust me, I’ve barely gotten started.” I cross my arms and shift my weight back, curious to see what she does next and even more perplexed as to why I care so damned much.
Sure, she’s beautiful, but I’ve never let the symmetry of someone’s facial features sway me. And it’s not the palpable hatred in her ever-changing eyes, either. I’m used to being loathed. But the combination of her hatred and her silence about seeing us meet is too intriguing to ignore—
She moves, and I’m too fucking distracted to react like usual, and when she kicks for the backs of my knees, I fall. Hard.
Holy shit.
“What did I say about being reckless?” Sgaeyl pushes through my shields. “The silver-haired girl is a distraction you can’t aff—”
I plant my feet on that mental hillside in Tyrrendor and reinforce my shields, blocking her out. She’s never going to let me live this down.
Sorrengail lands on my back and attempts a headlock. Good for her. It’s a solid choice, but she isn’t physically strong enough to cut off my air supply. She’s fighting like she’s six inches taller and has another forty pounds on her instead of leaning into her actual strengths.
I don’t bother with her arms. Twisting quickly, I break her grip and grasp the backs of her thighs in one motion, throwing us into a roll that ends with me pinning her back to the mat. Before she can take another breath, I put my forearm against the delicate line of her throat but don’t press.
There are over a dozen different ways to end her in this position, and I have all the leverage. But though my hips anchor hers to the mat, I have most of my weight braced on my left arm so I don’t crush her.
She’s well and fucking caught, and the flash of fear that’s quickly masked by fury in her eyes tells me she knows it, too.
Damn it. I don’t want to crush her.
What the fuck is happening to me?
She grabs for a dagger and makes the monumental mistake of going for my shoulder.
I abandon her throat and capture her wrist, pinning it above her head. Then I watch her face with rapt fascination as her expression shifts from wide-eyed shock, to tensing fear, to pursed-lipped anger all in a matter of seconds. The speed with which she processes information and compartmentalizes her feelings is such an advantage, and I doubt she even knows it.
Pink flushes up her neck and into her cheeks, and suddenly I find myself studying her for an entirely different reason. The blush, the skittered pulse, the way her gaze flicks toward my mouth for less than a second… I’m not the only one attracted here.
Fuck. This is dangerous. She is dangerous.
The world outside the mat ceases to exist as my focus narrows to just Violence. She really is stunning, especially when pissed. Tension surges between us, and my heartbeat jumps despite my best effort to lock that shit down. But damn if I’m not critically aware of the feel of her body beneath mine, the warmth of her skin under my fingertips, the way her breath catches as I lower my face to hers slowly.
Sliding my fingers up the heel of her hand, I force her fist open, then toss the blade across the mat before freeing her wrist.
“Get your dagger,” I demand.
“What?” Her eyes fly wide.
“Get. Your. Dagger,” I repeat, moving her hand with mine and dragging it to her ribs, to the last of her daggers. I curl my fingers around hers, grabbing the hilt.
Even her hands are soft. Fragile. Breakable. And if I don’t teach her how to use her petite size to her advantage, the next opponent will use it to shatter her. And for some fucking reason I can’t identify or deny…I care.
Gods damn it.
“You’re tiny.” Anger simmers in my stomach.
“Well aware.” She glares.
“So stop going for bigger moves that expose you.” I bring our laced hands to my side and drag the tip down my ribs. “A rib shot would have worked just fine.” Then I lead our hands around to my back, leaving myself vulnerable for the first time since I walked into this prison of a war college. “Kidneys are a good fit from this angle, too.”
She swallows, and I fight the urge to watch the motion of her throat, holding her gaze instead. I swear, her eyes seem different every time I look into them. No wonder I can’t look away.
I bring our hands to my waist, keeping my eyes locked on hers. “Chances are, if your opponent is in armor, it’s weak here. Those are three easy places you could have struck before your opponent would have had time to stop you.”
Her lips part, and she draws a shaky breath.
“Do you hear me?” I’m sure as hell not repeating this lesson.
She nods.
“Good. Because you can’t poison every enemy you come across,” I whisper, watching the blood drain from her face as I level the accusation. “You’re not going to have time to offer tea to some Braevi gryphon rider when they come at you.”
“How did you know?” She tenses under me, and fuck, her thighs clench around my hips.
I have to get the fuck off her before she realizes she has another weapon at her disposal when it comes to me. “Oh, Violence, you’re good, but I’ve known better poison masters. The trick is to not make it quite so obvious.”
Brennan would give one of his frustrated sighs if he knew just how obvious his little sister was. Then again, he’d also try to kick my ass for the position I have Violence in.
A bitter taste floods my mouth. She has no clue he’s alive.
She opens her mouth like she’s about to speak.
“I think she’s been taught enough for the day,” Aetos barks.
It takes every ounce of control I possess not to startle at the sudden reminder that we’re not alone. “He always that overprotective?” I mutter, putting a couple of inches between us.
“He cares about me.” She narrows her eyes at me, which I’m starting to think is her default expression.
“He’s holding you back. Don’t worry. Your little poisoning secret is safe with me.” I arch my scarred brow and hope she gets the hint to keep my secret safe, too. Then I slide our joined hands along her side and sheathe the jewel-hilted blade she has no business carrying. It’s too fucking big for her. Too easy to knock loose.
“You’re not going to disarm me?” she questions as I slip my fingers from hers and lift my weight off her.
Thank gods she has the common sense to release my hips from the grip of her thighs, because mine has fled, replaced by the urge to leave them right where they were and carry her to the nearest empty room to see just how attracted we both are.
But that way lies absolute disaster.
“Nope. Defenseless women have never been my type. We’re done for today.” I stand immediately, leaving her there, and walk to the edge of the mat to get my weapons from Imogen.
“What the hell was that?” she whispers, handing back the last of my knives.
“Aetos.” I ignore her question and turn toward the squad leader across the mat, who’s busy coddling Violence as usual.
His head snaps toward mine, and the anger there almost makes me smile.
“She could use a little less protection and a little more instruction.” I level an accusatory look on him until he nods, then turn and walk away.
“You in the mood to spar with first-years?” Garrick asks, keeping pace with me once I’m a few steps from Second Squad, a smile tugging at his mouth. “Or just that particular first-year?”
“Sometimes I hate how fucking observant you are.”
“It’s hard to miss the way you look at her,” he says, lowering his voice.
“Like I want to kill her?” I retort, spotting an interesting match in Claw Section.
“Or fu—”
“Don’t finish that sentence when I’m in the mood to hit people.” We’re mutually assured destruction against each other, which makes us the perfect sparring partners, but I’m just aggravated enough to do some real damage to my best friend, despite the size he has on me.
“Oh, would you, please?” He puts his hand to his heart and grins. “I need you to use those big, strong hands to show me—”
I shove his shoulder hard enough to send him staggering sideways and keep walking out of his section and into Claw. The farther the better when it comes to Sorrengail.
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