The Silvia Saga: Boxset

Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

Dara

After my warriors throw all of that shit on me, I go straight into training and try to channel all my confusion and anger into it. I pick up one of the knives that are lined up along the wall, grabbing it a little too close to the sharp end instead of the handle.

Declan comes up behind me, leaning in close. His body is hard against my back and makes me shiver in delight. He leans down and his breath tickles my ear. “First rule—don’t handle the knife that way. You will cut your hand off if you’re not careful. These knives are sharp.” He adjusts the knife in my hand. I lean farther back into his body. He groans so quietly I swear I’m hearing things. His cock presses against me, and what I wouldn’t do to jump him right now.

“It’s never going to happen, Princess. My one job is to protect you—not fuck you.”

I tense before I elbow him right in the gut. He curses, holding onto his belly.

“I wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole. Now teach me how to fucking do this or fuck right off.” His words sting but I won’t let them get me down.

He snatches a knife for himself and walks over to the marked line on the ground, positioning himself in front of the target. “First, I want you to watch me and pick up on how I do it. Make sure you look out for every little detail,” he instructs as the knife flies out of his hand and hits the target. He didn’t even give me a second to take note of how he did it.

I hold up my hand, stopping him. “Whoa, slow down a second. You didn’t finish your instructions and you released it. Give me notice next time, will ya?”

Declan just shakes his head at me and lines himself once more. He stops and looks right at me, waiting for my approval for him to go. I smirk. Good, he is listening. I nod my head in return, giving him the go-ahead.

I take in everything he is doing—from his stance to the way he handles the knife in his hand. His eyes focus so hard on the target. He releases the knife, and his legs and arms move with the release. It lands perfectly in the centre of the target. His whole body is relaxed. He makes it look easy.

“That looks easy-peasy. Move aside and let me have a go.” I push him to the right and position myself behind the line.

I mimic his stance, putting my legs in the same position. Once I am satisfied with my posture, I grip the knife in my right hand, just the way he did. I breathe in and out a few times, relaxing my whole body. You got this, I keep repeating inside my head. I focus on the target and take in my final clear, deep breath.

I release the knife. It flies toward the target but misses by a mile. Fucking hell.

I spend the next few hours throwing knives at the target. It keeps missing time and time again. This is going to be my last attempt before I throw it in. Maybe I’m not meant for this. I let the last knife fly. It’s like it moves in slow motion from where I am standing. After it’s been airborne for what feels like minutes, it hits the target. I can’t believe my own eyes. I walk closer to the target to confirm it.

Much to my surprise—and by the sounds of it, Declan’s too—I have not only hit the target but the centre point.

“Holy shit, Dara. Did I just see that?” Oliver comes over pulling the knife out of the bull’s eye.

Declan just stands there, rooted to the spot with his mouth slightly open.

I guess I did pretty good then.

“Yes, you did very fucking good, missy. Very impressive,” Oliver confirms.

I break out into a huge grin, proud of what I just did. Let’s hope I can pull it off again.

Finally, Declan breaks his silence. Waiting has been killing me. I just want his approval. “Very good, Dara, but you did put one foot over the marker. So, it would mean disqualification.” He shakes his head in disapproval.

I laugh, clutching my belly as I lean over. Is he for fucking real right now? I just did something incredibly impressive, and he shuts me down? Over some petty little foot over the line? By the looks of Declan’s flushed face, he’s heard everything I just thought. Good, serves him right.

“I am just trying to help you be the best you can be. One foot over the line is breaking the rules. So, yes, you will need to improve that for next time. I know it’s petty, but out there in the real world it could cost you. One step wrong and it could end badly.”

I grab it—maybe a little too roughly from his hands. After walking back to the marking point, I set myself up. I’m about to show Declan who’s boss around here. I repeat the steps I did before and position myself back farther, so that I don’t go over Declan’s precious little line. I take a step forward and release the knife. This time it flies through the air at record speed.

Much to my own surprise, it hits the target right in the centre. Hell, yes! I do a little victory dance. I can’t believe I actually did it again. I am one bad-arse chick. Oliver chuckles in the corner, watching my little outburst. I walk right up to Declan and stick out my tongue—right up in his face. I swear his lips turn upwards in a little smirk. But all too soon it’s gone.

He storms over to the target and pulls out my knife. “Again.”

I continue doing this for the next few hours—hitting the centre of the target every damn time. I am so bloody proud of myself. I can’t believe I am actually doing this. It feels so easy, like second nature after all of that practice.

“All right, sweetie, it’s my turn now,” Blair interrupts, dragging me away to the other room where more targets are set up.

The bows and arrows are lined on the opposite wall. Now this will be interesting. I have never handled a bow and arrow before in my life. These ones look lethal. I hope my luck hasn’t run out. My knife-throwing skills are from pure luck. I’m praying it will be the same with this. Something tells me these won’t be as easy.

I walk over to the bows and arrows, running my fingers across the cool metal and sharp ends. As soon as my hand touches one that has a dark blue streak down its spine, my whole body reacts to it. A shiver travels from my toes to my fingers. I stop and point to it. “I want this one, Blair.”

“How did I know you would pick this? It just happens to be my favourite.” He pulls it off the rack before handing it to me.

Another shiver racks my body. I’m going to have some fun with this. I hold it out in front of me. The grip is made from a plain dark blue fabric. The rest of the bow’s frame is black with interesting etches from the top to the bottom. While I have no idea what the symbols mean, they look pretty bloody cool. Simple matte black arrows sit neatly in a black leather bag.

The arrowhead looks lethal. Its black hue causes it to blend in with the rest of the arrow. The tip is hooked and splits in two, making twin heads—a lethal weapon.

The fletching is possibly the coolest thing I have ever seen with feathers in all shades of blues. I’m giddy imagining firing this beauty, seeing the arrow wedged in an enemy. Oh, my god. Who the hell am I becoming?

I look up to find Oliver watching me intensely from the corner of the room. His eyes are dilated, suggesting he’s been reading my thoughts and is really turned on by them. Mental note: to turn Oliver on, think about evil plotting.

He clears his throat and runs his hand through his beautiful blond locks. “Stop those evil thoughts, Dara. Before I show you who is boss.”

Blair comes over and stands in front of me, blocking my view of Oliver. “Let’s get started, shall we?” He grabs his bow and arrow, setting himself up on the marker line.

Yet again, we have another stupid marker line.

“Watch and learn, Princess.”

I take in his stance as I did with Declan. He looks so relaxed as he pulls back on the string thing. He places his arrow on it and lines it up. His elbow draws back at an angle. He releases. It flies through the air at speed. It finds its target, hitting the centre with a thud. That was the hottest thing. The way Blair handled that bow and arrow has me all flustered. I hope I look that hot when it’s my turn.

“I’m sure you will, my princess,” Blair says, smirking at me.

Damn it. I need to keep my dirty thoughts in check. We have mind readers in every corner here who don’t know the meaning of privacy.

As I go past Oliver, who insists on watching, I punch him in his arm. He grabs me around my waist before throwing me in the air. My bow and arrows fall from my arms and land on the ground. I don’t get a chance to care as I am airborne while Oliver throws me up and down like a kid. He tickles me, and I laugh, all while trying to swat him away. Finally, he gives up and places me back down. I sway a little, trying to gain my balance back.

“If you don’t get that arrow in the bullseye, Princess, I will be tickling you to death. Mark my words.”

Oh shit. I’d better get my act together.

Lining myself up on the mark, I relax my stance, taking deep breaths in and out. Copying Blair’s moves, I am ready to release the arrow. I am slightly nervous as I really want this to hit the bullseye. No way will I let Oliver torture me with those fingers of his.

I wouldn’t mind his fingers torturing me in another place. Stay focused. I try to clear my thoughts. After taking several more deep breaths, my nerves are back in check.

I pull back my arm, lining the arrow up with my target. Okay, here goes nothing. Hit that target right in the centre, I order the arrow. I release and the arrow flies through the air. It lands with a loud thud. I walk closer to confirm my hit. Perfect hit, right in the centre.

“Fuck yes,” I yell out, making sure Oliver hears me loud and clear. No tickling torture for me.

I continue practising with the bow and arrow for the next few hours. Blair teaches me different tactics.

Who knew that I would finally find my calling? It just happens to be that I am a killing machine. Something tells me that this will come in handy very soon. But it’s a vastly different story when you’re out in the real world, trying to protect yourself.