Chapter 4 #2
Grayson brushed a lock of the dark hair Sara found so attractive off his forehead. “Pierce, teach the mouthy shield a lesson.”
They couldn’t hurt me with their magic. No matter how hard they tried. That left physical violence.
Pierce crossed to the wall of weapons, grabbed a staff, and threw one at me.
I’d barely caught it when he was on me. His blow nearly knocked the weapon from my fingers.
“Useless,” he muttered.
I retreated and took a defensive stance.
Pierce twirled his staff, then fast as lightning, he swept it toward my ankles.
I easily jumped over his staff and swung my weapon at his ribs, landing a blow.
His gray eyes narrowed, and he attacked in earnest.
He was taller.
He was stronger.
But I met each blow.
“Stop playing with her, Pierce.” Flynn sounded bored.
This was playing? My breath came in short pants, and sweat burned my eyes. What was he like when he was serious?
Pierce’s staff swung toward my head, and I raised my staff to ward off the blow. The crack of tempered wood colliding was as loud as thunder.
I staggered backward, and he pressed his advantage, landing a blow on my left shoulder. My arm went numb, and tears welled in my eyes.
“Yield,” he demanded.
Already my magic was repairing the damage he’d done. Keeping my ability to heal a secret ranked high on my list of priorities. Rather than risk revealing it, I did as Pierce demanded and dropped my staff. “I yield.”
The crack of his staff breaking my rib was even louder than thunder.
I gasped in pain. “I yielded.”
He shrugged. “We’re enemies.”
“I thought we were on the same side.” I wouldn’t make that mistake again.
“Not even close. Never trust your enemy.” Pierce’s words were cold, but I caught Grayson’s slight flinch. He turned away quickly, jaw working.
“Five laps.” Grayson’s voice came out rougher than before, and his hands clenched behind his back. For a split second, something flickered across his features—almost like regret.
“He broke my rib.”
Grayson lifted a brow. “Five laps. Start now, or I’ll make it ten.”
Pressing a hand to my rib cage, I began to jog.
“Faster.” The bastard had to know that each step I took was agony.
I picked up my pace. The pain was searing, as if a butcher’s knife was lodged between my bones. Tears rolled down my cheeks, nausea twisted my stomach, and black dots danced at the edge of my vision.
“Faster.”
“She’s crying.” Flynn mocked my tears.
I’d like to see him run with a broken rib. In fact, I’d be happy to break it for him.
Despite what these men thought, tears were not a weakness.
Tears were a manifestation of pain—either emotional or physical.
Acknowledging pain didn’t make me weak. It made me strong.
I could carry on when I’d been ripped from my home.
I could run with a broken rib. I could accept sadness and then move past it. No, I didn’t care if they saw my tears.
Already, my rib and shoulder were mending; the itchy, prickly sensation beneath my skin told me I’d be fully healed soon. Not that I’d let them see. I’d show them my tears, not my secrets.
“Four laps to go, Shield.”
The black dots were gone, and my tears had dried. Only the nausea remained. And I suspected it would get worse. Running was using the last of my reserves.
“If you slow down, I’ll add another lap.”
I imagined dropping to the ground. What would happen if I refused to run? I glanced at the four of them.
Pierce’s gaze tracked me like a hawk watching a field mouse. Flynn played with a small ball of fire, tossing it between his hands. Deep in conversation, Grayson and Teal ignored me.
Pierce’s mouth twisted into an ugly sneer. “Did I give you permission to look at your betters?”
In my soul, a seed of hatred sprouted. I bit back a smart reply and focused on putting one foot in front of the other.
“I can make her run faster.” Flynn threw the fireball at me.
I ignored the flames racing toward me, kept my pace steady, and stared straight ahead.
His fire couldn’t touch me. I sensed the moment his flame met my shield—but something felt different.
Wrong. The familiar tingle of deflected magic was there, but underneath it, something else stirred.
Something hungry. Angry. The temperature around me rose. For an instant. Then the heat was gone.
Across the arena, someone yelped.
I dared a quick glance and nearly stumbled. Flynn’s fire hadn’t just disappeared—it had redirected, seeking Pierce out like a living thing, tracking him across the room with predatory intent.
The bastard with water magic created a wall of ice, his pale eyes wide with shock.
When Flynn’s fire met Pierce’s ice, the two magics sizzled and crackled with dramatic violence. Most of Pierce’s protection melted before Flynn’s fire guttered out, leaving scorch marks on the wall behind him.
They both glared at me as if I were somehow responsible. Which was impossible. Shields deflected magic—we didn’t redirect it. We certainly didn’t make it hunt specific targets. Till now.
Flynn’s cocky grin vanished as he stared at the scorch marks.
Pierce’s usual composure cracked, his pale eyes darting between me and the wall.
Even Teal shifted uncomfortably. But it was Grayson’s reaction that caught my attention—the way his knuckles went white as he gripped his arms, the sudden stillness in his posture like a predator scenting prey.
“Did I tell you to stop running?” Grayson barked.
I continued to put one foot in front of the other, but the alien sensation crawled under my skin again. Fire. Ice. The whisper of earth magic. The taste of air currents. All of it foreign, all of it wrong, all of it feeling disturbingly right.
The four men gathered. Something had shifted in the room’s dynamic. The casual cruelty in their eyes had been replaced by wariness. They wouldn’t underestimate me again.
I ran. The itch of healing tissue made me grateful for the loose tunic that hid the way my rib was already knitting back together. I forced myself to maintain the slight hunch of someone still in pain, even as the worst of it faded.
“Shield,” Grayson boomed. “Come here now.”
“It’s Haven,” I mumbled, even as I followed his order.
When I stood before them, he grabbed my chin and forced me to meet his gaze. “What did you do?”
“Nothing.” It was the truth. I had no idea why Flynn’s magic had gone after Pierce.
He stared at me as if he could detect a lie by gazing at my face.
“She still has three laps.” Pierce’s face was tight with anger.
“She doesn’t look so good,” Teal observed. “How long has it been since you’ve had food or water?”
“Yesterday morning.”
“She needs to eat. We can’t put her in the infirmary on her first day.”
“Why not?” Pierce sounded genuinely curious.
“The nurses in the infirmary will baby her.”
The infirmary sounded delightful. Too bad I was trying to hide my healing powers.
I turned my back on them.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Pierce demanded.
“You said I had three more laps.” I took off at a steady run.
Pierce threw ice at me. Flynn threw fire. Grayson sent gusts to blow me off course, and Teal’s vines twisted in front of me like a mass of snakes. I ignored their magic and ran, and when I was finished, I fell to my hands and knees, my breath ragged.
“Get up.” Grayson toed my aching body.
My mouth was impossibly dry, and it hurt to breathe. I needed a minute.
“Now. You won’t like what happens if you disobey me.”
I struggled to my feet.
“Gods, Shield, you stink.” Pierce wrinkled his nose.
I held my tongue.
“There’s a washroom through there.” Teal pointed at a pair of doors at the far end of the arena.
Grayson gave a slow nod. “You have ten minutes.”
“Then what?” I couldn’t run another step, couldn’t handle another weapon, not until I had some water.
“Then we’ll let you eat.”
I turned and trudged toward the doors.
“Your ten minutes start now.”
Somehow, I managed to jog.
When I emerged from the shower, my clothes were gone.
In their place, I found gray leggings and a fitted tunic—also gray.
It was as if someone had decided to deny color to the women who lived here.
I searched in vain for underwear. At least whoever had taken my clothes provided socks (gray) and boots (no surprise, also gray).
I quickly braided my wet hair and returned to the arena.
When Flynn noticed me, his eyes widened. Then he licked his lips and poked Grayson in the ribs. “Change your mind. Please?”
“No.” Grayson glared at me as if my presence offended him. “Follow us, Shield.”
“Haven.”
He turned his back on me.
I was hungry enough to drop the argument and trail after them.
They led me to a sumptuous dining room crowded with round tables covered in white linen and set with sterling silver.
A buffet groaned beneath the weight of bacon, sausages, ham, pastries, and baskets of fresh bread, crispy roasted potatoes, a dizzying variety of fruits and cheeses, and a mammoth platter of grilled vegetables.
I ignored the gazes of the men who already occupied tables. “Is there coffee?”
“Shields eat in there.” Pierce pointed to a cased opening that revealed a second, smaller dining room.
The smaller room’s walls were painted gray. The tables were gray metal. The seats were hard gray stools. It was all depressing. Especially when I noticed a buffet that appeared to hold nothing more than a pot of oatmeal.
Pierce’s chilly expression morphed into a smirk. “Enjoy your breakfast.”
One of the men shoved me toward the gray dining room, and I stumbled forward.
A few girls huddled at the tables. None of them looked welcoming. Not a single girl would meet my eyes. I understood—I was new, and likely to attract attention. And attention was the last thing these girls with wan, haunted faces wanted.
I helped myself to lumpy oatmeal and took a seat at an empty table.
In the men’s dining room, Grayson, Teal, Pierce, and Flynn loaded their plates, stopped at the buffet’s end for steaming mugs of coffee, then claimed a table.
Flynn caught me looking and lifted his coffee mug in mock salute.
Asshole.
I lifted my cup of tepid water and pretended I didn’t care. I did. Then I dropped my gaze and focused on forcing myself to eat the slightly burned oatmeal.
“You’re new here.”
I looked up at a man of medium height. His features were heavy, and an ugly scar marked his left cheek. As he studied me, a malicious light flamed in his muddy brown eyes. No good would come of this. I swallowed a spoonful of plain oatmeal—no butter, no sugar, no cinnamon—and grimaced.
He leaned forward, invading my space. “Answer me.”
“Yes. I’m new.”
A cruel smile curled his thick lips. “You don’t like your oatmeal?”
“Not particularly.”
“Get on your knees. I’ll give you something you’ll like better.” He unfastened the fly of his pants.
Was he serious? I searched his face. He absolutely was. “No, thank you.”
Excitement flared in his eyes. “It wasn’t a request. Get on your knees.”
My lips went numb. “No.”
He rubbed his hands together as if my refusal pleased him. “Shields don’t tell members of the guard no.”
“This one does.”
He circled the table until he loomed above me.
The girls in the room seemed to shrink into themselves, as if they hoped they could make themselves small enough to escape his notice.
“Last chance, Shield.”
The man reeked of bacon grease and sweat, and I couldn’t keep my disgust off my features. “No.”
His open palm flew toward my face.
I bent backward, and his hand passed above me.
The sudden burst of men’s laughter from the guards’ dining room had his cheeks flaming a deep crimson.
He made a grab for my arm, and I easily evaded him, leaping from the stool and taking a defensive stance.
“Bitch. You’ll pay.”
I’d rather die fighting than let his cock anywhere near me.
He fisted his hand and pulled his arm back, telegraphing his intended target—my throat.
I ducked his punch.
Sara and Alina had promised Grayson would protect me, but when I chanced a glance at the dining room, the four men who’d taken me from my home seemed unconcerned with the man attacking me.
If anything, they seemed suddenly fascinated by their breakfasts.
Pierce and Grayson sipped their coffee. Teal salted his eggs. Flynn nibbled on a strip of bacon.
The attacker swung at my temple.
I leaned away from his fist, then hit him with a roundhouse kick to the groin.
He crashed to the floor, curling into a fetal position and moaning.
I shifted my gaze to the dining room a second time.
Twenty-five men now glared at me. Four of them stood. Their faces were angrier than the rest. They crossed their arms over their broad chests.
“Princess,” Flynn tsked. “What the fuck did you just do?”
“Is this how you treat the girls you’ve brought here to protect you?
” Yes, I was challenging them. Yes, it was probably a terrible idea.
But I was too upset to care. I blinked back the image of that guard’s leering face and his determination to take me against my will.
There would be time to fall apart later.
Right now, I needed to survive this moment, then the next, then the one after that.
“You expect us to shield you? Why should we?”
“Enough talking,” Grayson barked. “Everyone, out.”
The guards and the shields practically stampeded toward the exit.
When they were gone, my gaze traveled between them. Grayson. Pierce. Flynn. Teal. “Would you have sat there sipping coffee as he forced his tiny cock into my mouth?”
Grayson didn’t answer, but a flush climbed his neck, and his gaze shifted away from mine. “This is how you learn to protect yourself,” he muttered, as if trying to convince himself as much as me.
“You’re despicable. All of you.”
My words seemed to hit him like a physical blow. For just a moment, I saw something crack in his expression before his mask slipped back into place. “You don’t get it. I’m trying to help you. This place, it’s about knowing your place, and with your attitude, you won’t survive the rest of the day.”