Chapter 6 On the Mat
SOUNDTRACK: Start a Fire by Cult to Follow
~ brEN ~
A garbled grunt broke in my chest as Gil’s flat palm smacked to the center of my chest, shoving me back over the foot he’d already planted behind my heel. Then, as I cursed in frustration and over-balanced, he plowed me flat to the mat.
I forgot to tuck my chin and my head clonked so hard my teeth rattled. My skull rang, and my vision doubled for a breath.
Four male voices raised sympathetic hisses and Oooos as I groaned and covered my face in both hands, letting my body go slack because he’d already won.
“You okay, Bren?” Gil asked carefully.
“Yes,” I muttered. I blew out a breath and dropped my hands, staring at the rafters as I assessed my body—which was sore, but not alarmingly so. I blinked rapidly to clear my sight, and the threat of frustrated tears.
He was just too fucking strong.
Gil, leaned over to check me, then offered one calloused hand. He’d shorn his head recently, and it still surprised me. It made his warm, brown eyes look bigger, especially with his brows up like that, in a question.
I clapped my palm into his, bracing as his hand engulfed mine and he pulled me to my feet.
The others clapped or teased, telling Gil I’d gone easy on him, but he held my arm and made sure I was solid on my feet before he let me go.
“You’re lasting longer and getting faster. It’s all good, Bren. Don’t get discouraged,” he said under the noise of our brothers calling jokes and clapping.
I thanked him grimly, but swallowed back a lump in my throat that was half-fury, and half-embarrassment.
I’d been trained in basic hand-to-hand techniques during my Flameborne days.
But everyone—including me—had assumed I’d be raised to a Flyer, if I was pinned at all.
The bulk of my training hadn’t been focused on ground combat.
I was already behind even the newest Furyknights, and physically weaker than them.
But now I was supposed to become some kind of weapon?
If my brothers were the kinds of men I’d be fighting in the field, I was fucked.
“Do you want some advice?” he asked quietly.
“Sure.”
“Get good at wearing a blade discreetly, and drawing your weapon. You already know how to use it.”
“Barely.”
“So, practice when you’re alone. Always keep a harness knife on you—no one will think twice about that. And make sure you’ve gotten handy at drawing it quickly. Sometimes all you need to beat a bigger foe is a serious threat.”
I looked at him and he smiled.
“I’ll try,” I said wearily.
Gil clapped my shoulder as I turned away, looking for water for my parched throat while two other Shadowfang took their places on the mat.
With a limp waterskin in my hand and everyone now distracted by the new round of sparring, I let my body slump back against the wall, took a deep drink, and had an honest moment with myself.
I tried to look past the vital, sweaty bodies of the men wrestling on the mats—even the smallest of them outweighing me by fifty pounds, at least—and assess the whole picture.
Had I been wrong to accept the vow to the Shadowfang?
I scanned the hall and shook my head.
No. No, I wasn’t wrong. But I had a damned hard road ahead of me. Sometimes I just wished I had a moment to breathe and take it all in. Every now and again I looked around and it would hit me where I was.
The Academy buildings had been built centuries earlier by dragons working with their bonded men.
They’d flamed rock until it was molten, then formed it into these stunning, obsidian buildings that were so beautiful, and so intimidating.
The black walls were thick and impenetrable, but glossy, and loomed several stories tall.
This training hall was one of the few buildings that they’d formed as a single space with towering ceilings. Without multiple floors, when the sun shone directly on the walls, they glowed dimly, turning that black, glassy stone into massive, red-black jewels.
The men were so accustomed to these surroundings, I don’t think they commented on them anymore. But I still found myself awed when I took a moment to think about where I was, and what I’d done.
I desperately wanted to succeed here. This job—flying with Akhane, solving problems, finding enemies, and proving myself—was fulfilling in ways I couldn’t express with words.
And to have found Donavyn as well…
My body fluttered just thinking about him. It had now been almost fifteen hours since I’d seen my mate, and there was a clench of dread in my belly that would soon turn into a deep ache. If I ignored it, my body grew agitated—which communicated to my dragon.
In short, I needed to see Donavyn. Soon.
But even with that driving force pressing at my spine, I didn’t move. Because I knew the moment I saw him, the first thing he’d ask was how the training had gone this evening. And then I’d have to admit the truth.
Not well.
Voski warned me this training would be even harder than the Furyknight training. But for different reasons. This training wasn’t a test, only a way to learn endurance and strengthen my body even further. It was supposed to fail a lot.
I was used to enduring. I could persevere as well as any of my brothers. It wasn’t the physical pain that made my chest constrict and anxiety flutter behind my heart. It was the question whether I could ever succeed. Truly succeed.
Turning my attention back to the pair of men circling each other on the mat, I watched as one took a swing and the other blocked his blow, then landed one of his own.
Either of those blows would have thrown me off my feet.
But this brother took it with a grunt, turned into the pain, and whirled to hammer-fist his adversary.
The two danced warily apart again.
My heart sank.
I’d been training with men since the moment Akhane Chose me.
I was used to their size and strength now, and enjoyed finding new ways to outwit them.
But hand-to-hand combat? They were just stronger.
They were no longer holding back for a Flameborne’s introductory training.
Even when I could get a blow in, or deflect theirs, they overpowered me the moment they got a firm grip.
My only true course to survive face-to-face altercations appeared to be flight. Or maybe, as Gil just suggested, using weapons. I had received training on the use of blades as a Flameborne, but I was hardly an expert.
Yet, did I have any choice? Once any one of these men—even the smallest of them—got hands on me, they could wrestle me to the ground in seconds. And even if I hurt him on the way down, that was petty retribution, not victory.
“Don’t worry, you’ll get there. It’ll just take time.” Gil appeared at my side without warning. Startled, I spluttered my water.
“How the hell do you do that?!” I hissed, heart pounding in my ears, glad for the waterskin in my hands because I was sure they trembled.
He grinned and his warm eyes flashed with mischievous delight.
“You’ll find out soon. It’s part of our stealth training.
And once you’ve got the hang of it, you and I can practice by making a game out of trying to scare Voski.
The fucker has senses like a cat. If you can make him jump, I’ll buy your rounds at the tavern for a month. ”
“Done,” I said, instinctively, though trying to imagine a day when I could sneak up on Voski seemed like a fantasy realm.
Still, it was less out of reach than being a Furyknight would have seemed a year ago.
So, I wouldn’t give up. And if it meant free nights out at the tavern, I wouldn’t complain.
Buying rounds was our squad’s currency, and the fastest way to get one of my brothers to engage with a challenge—or a joke.
I wasn’t much of a gambler, but it was fun to watch my brothers compete, tooth and nail, to be the one who didn’t have to pay.
“You alright?” Gil asked a moment later.
I sighed, but nodded. “Just tired. And a little sore.” I rolled my shoulder where I’d landed when he took me to the floor and winced. That would ache tomorrow. I hoped it wouldn’t interfere with climbing the mounting straps to get to Akhane’s back.
The much bigger wound was to my optimism. There were many, many things I believed I could do well—some, perhaps even better than my male counterparts. But fighting? I was afraid I might be the first sworn Shadowfang politely asked to leave the secret society.
How embarrassing.
“Don’t,” Gil said shortly.
I frowned and looked up at him. “Don’t what?”
“You’ve got that look on your face you used to have months ago, when you were convinced you’d never mount Akhane alone. And look where you are now. Stop telling yourself you can’t do it. You’ll have to do it differently. But you’ll find a way.”
“Sure. I know,” I huffed and waved him off, but my chest tightened with unease.
“Bren—”
“I hear you, Gil. I’m just tired. I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night, and I’ve been up since before dawn. I just need to eat dinner and sleep. I’m not giving up.”
“Not on the task, but I’m telling you, don’t give up on yourself.”
“I won’t.”
He eyed me from the side, clearly suspicious. But I didn’t have the energy to argue with him. I would keep trying. And I knew I’d do some things well. I just had to accept that hand-to-hand combat might not be one of them.
Soon, as the final pair of our brothers made it through their last spars—and I wasn’t the only one to end up on the mat, thank God—we farewelled each other and I threw my bag over my shoulder, grimacing at the ache there, then trotted out into the late evening shadows.
The sun was almost down, which meant long shadows between buildings when I hurried to the dining hall for a late meal, then used the darkness under the trees to casually make my way across the grounds, towards the back entrance to the Officer’s building.
It was still early enough for many Furyknights to be out, so I carried a wax-sealed note in one hand to imply I’d been assigned messenger duties, in case anyone intercepted me or grew suspicious.
But, I made it up those dark, back stairs and to his door without being seen, and sighed with relief as I stepped inside—tensing when a massive, dark shadow separated from the kitchen and leaped on me the moment I made it in the door.
It took two seconds, and a heart-thudding rush of fear, for my body to realize those thick hands on my arms were my beloved’s, and the dark growl was heavy with desire, not malicious intent.
I tensed—then relaxed as Donavyn descended on me, hands in my hair, lips on mine, his body tight and warm against mine.
“Thank God, I thought they’d decided to keep you overnight,” he growled against my skin as I dropped my head back to give him access to my neck, and goosebumps prickled down my side.
“No, just training, and I had to eat.”
“I’m hungry,” he purred, nipping at the sensitive skin under my ear and sending shivers down my spine.
I curled fingers into his hair and almost gave in when he started unbuttoning my jacket, but as his breath grew heavier, and the cool evening air met the skin on my chest, I sighed again and nudged him away.
“I’m sweaty and dirty and I stink. I need a bath, then—”
“No,” he muttered, sliding a hand under my shirt and kissing me deeply. “It’s been hours. I’m not taking my hands off you now.”
“But I need to get clean!” I laughed, though his touch and kiss were making my insides as molten as the dragon’s flame.
“Then we bathe,” he growled as he leaned down to hook an arm behind my knees and swing me up to his chest.
I shrieked, my stomach dropping with the sudden movement, but I didn’t complain.
Instead, I found a lovely little patch of stubble under his jaw that he’d missed with the razor, and I nibbled at it, playing my fingers through his hair as he carried me through the spacious sitting room of the apartment, into the bedchamber, and through it to the bathing room.
When we reached that warm, little room, damp because he’d bathed himself already, he put me back on my feet. I couldn’t resist nipping his earlobe and clawing hands over his chest on my way down.
With a muttered curse, Donavyn pulled me against him, his breath hot and already short as he took my mouth more deeply, while his hands traveled my body, unbuckling my belt and pushing my shirt and jacket off my shoulders, throwing them to the side.
Smiling, forgetting all the frustration of the day, I let myself relax, bowing back over the hand he splayed in the hollow of my spine.
“Widen your stance,” he growled as he reached for the buttons of my leathers.
“Yes, Commander!” I whispered through a grin, delighted by his obvious need. “Whatever you—”
His head snapped up and he froze.
I hadn’t actually seen him since the dark of this morning. Drinking in the sight of him soothed something in my chest that had been aching, even as it made my heart swell, and lit an inferno behind my navel.
He stood over me, a full-foot taller, eyes locked on mine, his face lined with need.
His long, brown hair was pulled back into a leather tie.
But I’d loosened dark strands with my pawing, and pieces drifted against his cheek and over his eyes, fluttering in the wind from his breath as he stared down at me, eyes dark with arousal, but piercing, searching mine.
“Donavyn, what’s—?”
“What did you call me?” he rasped.
I frowned. “Commander? I was being silly, I just—” I cut off, laughing with relief when he muttered a filthy curse and dove for my throat.
“I told you, I don’t pull rank behind closed doors.”
“I know, I just—”
“I think you meant, yes, sir!” he growled as he descended on me.
“Yes, sir,” I whispered through a smile, arching into his marble-body as I gave myself up.