I study the blade in his hand. It’s beautiful, with a solid black hilt engraved with Tyrrish knots, old, mythical runes of intricate swirls and ties. The blade itself is clearly honed to lethal perfection. “It’s spectacular.”
“It’s yours.”
My head snaps up, but there’s no lie in his onyx eyes.
“I had it made for you.” His lips curve slightly.
“What?” My mouth opens, and my chest tightens. He took the time to have it made? Shit. That gives me feelings I really don’t want to have. Soft, confusing feelings.
“You heard me. Take it.”
Swallowing the illogical lump in my throat, I take the blade from him. It feels solid in my palm but is infinitely lighter than my other daggers. There’s no strain on my wrist, and my fingers comfortably wrap around the hilt, making it much more secure than the knives I’ve left on the floor. “Who made it?”
“I know someone.”
“In the quadrant?” My eyebrows shoot up.
“You’d be surprised how resourceful you get after three years here.” A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, and I openly stare before remembering where we are.
“It’s incredible.” I shake my head and hand it back to him. “But you know I can’t take it. The only weapons we’re allowed to have are the ones we earn.” Only challenges or weapons qualifications are acceptable. There’s a crossbow I have my eye on that I’m not quite expert at yet.
“Exactly.” He smiles for a flash of a second before moving with a speed I’ve never dreamed possible. He’s even faster than Imogen as he sweeps my feet from under me with one strike, taking me to the mat in a single move.
The ease with which he has me on my back is simultaneously appalling and…ridiculously hot, especially with the weight of his hips settled between my thighs. It takes all my willpower not to reach up and brush the stray lock of hair from his forehead. It was a mistake.
Well, if that memory doesn’t cool me right off.
“And what point are you making with this little move?” I ask, well aware that he’s done it all without knocking the wind out of me.
“There are a dozen of these daggers strapped to my body, so start disarming me.” He lifts a sardonic brow. “Unless you don’t know how to handle an opponent on top of you, and if so, that’s a whole other issue.”
“I know how to handle you on top of me,” I challenge quietly.
He lowers his mouth to my ear. “You won’t like what happens if you push me.”
“Or maybe I will.” I turn just enough that my lips brush the shell of his ear.
He jerks up, and the heat in his gaze makes me all too aware of everywhere our bodies connect. “Disarm me before I test that theory in front of everyone in this gym.”
“Interesting. I didn’t take you for an exhibitionist.”
“Keep pushing, and I guess you’ll find out.” His gaze drops to my mouth.
“I thought you said kissing me was a mistake.” I don’t care if the entire quadrant is watching if that means he’ll kiss me again.
“It was.” He smirks. “I’m just teaching you that blades aren’t the only way to disarm an opponent. Tell me, Violence, are you disarmed?”
Arrogant ass.
I scoff and start plucking knives from their sheaths, flinging them across the mat while he watches with impatient amusement. Then I lock my legs around his hips and force a roll to the left, putting Xaden on his back. Willingly, of course—there’s no way I’m kneeling on top of him if he doesn’t want it that way—but I throw a forearm against his collarbone with the pretense of pinning him anyway and proceed to steal the other daggers he has sheathed along his side.
“And lastly,” I say with a smile, leaning forward, our heated bodies nearly flush as I snatch the dagger right out of his hand. “Thank you.”
The final blade secure, Xaden throws his palms to the mat and shoves with unnatural strength, arching us straight back until my spine kisses the mat again.
“That’s.” I suck in a breath, the move shocking me to my toes and lodging him firmly between my thighs. It takes everything I have not to arch up against him and see if he really thinks that kiss was a mistake. “Not fair to use your powers on the mat.” Magical. Sexual. Whatever. It’s all unfair.
“That’s the other thing.” He jumps to his feet and offers his hand. I take it, my head rushing as I stand. Not now. Do not get dizzy now. “Emetterio doesn’t allow powers in order to level the playing field when it comes to challenges. But out there? The field is anything but level, and you need to learn to use whatever you’ve got.”
“I can’t do much beside ground, shield, and move a piece of parchment.” I sheathe the new dagger, then collect the others and do the same. They really are lovely, all marked with different runes. It’s a shame there are so many parts of Tyrrish culture that were lost centuries ago during the unification, including most runes. I don’t even know what they all mean.
“Well, looks like we’re going to have to work on that, too.” He sighs and takes up a fighting stance. “Now, earn your nickname and try your best to kill me.”
…
February flies by in a blur of exhaustion. Xaden takes every unscheduled moment of my day, and Dain’s gritted his teeth more than once when the wingleader has pulled me out of squad training because he has something infinitely more important for me to do.
Which usually ends with me getting my ass handed to me repeatedly on the mat.
But I have to say, he doesn’t baby me like Dain, and he doesn’t take it easy on me like Rhiannon does. He pushes me to my physical limit every session but never further, usually leaving me a boneless, sweaty heap on the sparring gym floor, gasping for breath.
That’s usually when Imogen reminds me that I’m needed in the weight room.
I hate them both.
Kind of.
It’s hard to argue with the results when I’m learning to take down the strongest fighter in the quadrant. I have yet to beat him, but I’m all right with that. It means he doesn’t let me win.
