Chapter 9
It’s surprising what a comfy bed and a warm blanket that smells like heaven will do for your sleep, or maybe it’s just downright exhaustion that made me slumber like the dead.
I know it’s fairly early when I dress in fresh clothes. A bath would be amazing, but that’s one of the few things Ziv didn’t show me how to find. I take his promise to train me in combat to heart when I choose what to wear and select things that will make it easy to move. Lastly, I plait my hair.
It’s not long after I’m done that the doorknob turns to no avail, then a heavy knock vibrates the door. I know who it is, so I open the door and step back quickly. Just as suspected, Ziv dips in and takes a quick look around. I really hope there’s no bed flipping today. Maybe I can distract him.
“Can you show me where the bathing rooms are?”
He turns his head just enough to see me from the corner of his eye. His expression suggests I just asked him where I can go to slaughter kittens, not clean up. “The washrooms are communal in the dorms,” he states. I’m not surprised in the least, nor am I deterred. I usually used a bucket at home, so it would be dumb to pass up the opportunity.
“Okay,” I reply slowly.
“It looks like you’re ready.” He gestures toward me, acknowledging my fresh clothes.
“I am, but I’d like to know for later.”
“I’ll take you this evening,” he grumbles, clearly inconvenienced. I note the fact that he says take you instead of show you, but I don’t question his wording, especially when he seems to be bothered by the whole thing in the first place.
Ziv faces me fully, running his eyes over me from head to toe. I shift my feet, squirming under his direct attention. He makes a grunting sound and tips his head back. I suppose that’s an approval of some sort, and I’ll take that over a rebuke any day.
“Let’s go.” He moves with a fluid grace that shouldn’t be possible for someone his size, and it’s enviable. Even while ducking to get out of the door, he looks nimble.
I jump into action, hurrying after him until I reach his side. His strides slow so I only have to take two paces to match his. I try to pay attention to where we’re going, but this place feels bigger than half the city I grew up in with way more twists and turns. With a little less distress and gloom riding me, I begin to notice the fine furnishings and art decorating Ivy. Scene after scene of battles are depicted in the many canvases and tapestries, and some even have date placards under them, but we’re moving much too fast for me to catch more than a glimpse.
The sounds of struggling and wails can be heard long before we find our way into the arena. I peek over at Ziv to see if he’s alarmed, but he looks almost serene as a particularly loud, pain-filled howl splits the air. My stomach bottoms out, and I realize I didn’t wake with the nagging hunger I’ve grown so accustomed to. Maybe it would be better if I had. I have a feeling I might want to hurl when I see what Ziv has in store for me. I never could stomach the gallows in town, let alone the fights.
“Is combat mandatory?” I bite my bottom lip as the huge open doors grow closer. I can smell the sweat and sand.
“For you, it is.” He comes to a halt and peers down at me. “Don’t worry, little flower. I won’t break you.”
“I’m training with you, like…” I make useless fists and poke them toward him. “Fighting you?”
I think the thing happening to his face might be a grin of some sort, but it’s far too wicked to contain any real mirth. “I’ll need to assess your strengths to decide how to start.”
“I don’t have any strengths.” I shake my head. Why wasn’t I more worried about this before?
“Then I will teach you. There may come a time when I won’t be there to take care of you.” He places his hand on my shoulder, and even the weight of his touch feels like too much, especially when the weird tingling starts again and my stomach tries to turn itself inside out. Ziv yanks his hand back as if I telegraphed my discomfort, and the weird feeling peters out, leaving me reeling yet again.
I open my mouth to ask Ziv if he just used his power on me or if it happens because he’s a god, but he stomps through the doors, leaving me with a view of his very wide back. When my eyes dip to his leather-covered ass, I actually wince in embarrassment before jogging after him.
Heads turn to watch him stroll into the ring. Much to my dismay, the place resembles the fighting circle back home, only ten times larger, and the seating surrounding the space goes so high, I wonder if you have to fly to reach the balconies up there.
There are easily a hundred novices clustered in small groups. Some are utilizing their abilities while shrouded within a shielded area, but most seem to be fighting hand-to-hand. I turn at the right moment to see a particularly vicious punch thrown at the nose of a female who is a good head taller than me with the weight to match. Her head rocks back with so much force, I’m convinced it’s going to snap off her neck, but she quickly recoups and delivers a wicked jab to the male across from her with twin rivers of blood trailing from her nostrils.
“I’m so dead,” I mutter, shaking my head.
“You may wish you were, lit—” Ziv cuts the word off short, but I’m certain he was going to call me little flower again. “But I won’t let you die.”
“Strangely enough, that’s not very comforting.” I know he hears me, even though my words are spoken softly.
The others move out of our way as Ziv leads us through the field of death. I feel their eyes on my back as we pass, but no one acknowledges our presence beyond staring after us. It’s like I get clearance to move past just by being with him.
A door swings open at the edge of the ring, revealing a much smaller room with the same sandy floor and general feel, but without the space for spectators. This room, however, is empty until we enter.
The doors slam closed behind me, causing me to jump and spin around. My heart rate spikes when I realize I’m trapped alone in a ring with Ziv, and he’s most likely going to make this hurt.
It wasn’t my intention to bring Briar into my private training room, but it’s the only place my feet would carry me after entering the main gym, where there are too many eyes to observe our every move. If Syrinx asks, I’ll tell her I don’t want all the others to know just how unprepared Briar is to be here, but I doubt I will be able to conceal our bond much longer anyway, even if I do manage to hold off completing it.
Her eyes are wide when she turns to face me. I doubt I would be exaggerating if I said she looks like she thinks I’m about to attack her. She slowly begins to back away from me as if the small distance will help. There is no distance that could save her, or anyone else, if I wanted them dead.
“You said you were good at running. Let me see it.” Proving she’s smart, she takes off in a mad dash without me having to tell her twice. I wasn’t prepared for my own instincts to kick in to give chase, and I have to stop myself from covering the space between us and taking her down to the sand the moment she sprints away. My heart begins thundering in my chest with the demand to do something. I settle back on my heels and take in the adrenaline coursing through my blood. It’s been a very long time since I’ve felt the thrill of a hunt, or of any kind for that matter.
She’s not slow, but I wouldn’t say running will be an asset to her either. Most of the other novices would easily catch her, or they would just wait until she tired herself out, which wouldn’t take long. She’s already slowing and making the mistake of looking over her shoulder to see where I am.
When she looks forward again, I shift so I’m standing right in front of her. Her face registers shock before she slams into my chest. I bow my back to soften the blow for her as much as I can and wrap my arms around her back and head to absorb her rebound, making sure she doesn’t fall to the ground. Damn, she feels tiny in my arms. On instinct, I loosen my hold for fear of hurting her, although the softness of her breasts against me can’t be ignored, nor the way she’s panting.
“That was…like running…into a brick wall.”
I lean down and inhale the top of her head. She’s exuding pheromones, even if she’s acting like she doesn’t know it. “Never look back. Always look for the threat ahead of you.” My voice is low and filled with need. I’d rather pluck out my own fingernails than release her, but I pry my fingertips off her one by one until she pulls away from me and rubs the side of her temple like she has a headache.
“So running is out of the equation.”
“You say that now, but you haven’t seen me fight,” she quips, but I’m not laughing. I wasn’t lying when I said there may be a time when I’m not there to protect her, and I need to know she can at least survive until I can get there to make sure she does.
“What about weapons? Do you have any affinity?”
“Unless it’s a pitchfork to muck a stall, I’m pretty useless there too. Are you sure I should really be here? I didn’t think I would be expected to fight. I just figured I’d be a test dummy for everyone to use their powers on like usual.”
The reminder of her past does nothing to improve my disposition. Her father needs to die, painfully and very soon, or I might lose my fucking mind.
“Your ability will be tested, little flower, everyone’s is, but you will not be used for anything, especially not a test dummy.”
Briar drops her head for a moment, then glances up. “I’m okay with a bow. Not great, but I can hit the target most of the time.” She tamps down my expectations quickly, but at least she’s given me something to work with.
“Wait here,” I instruct, then make my way over to the small armory closet. My hand instinctually goes to my bow, but I think better of it before even lifting it. It will be much too heavy for her to hold, let alone pull the string. Instead, I grab a lightweight longbow made of yew and a shoulder quiver. One of the very few benefits of this weapon is stealth, but you lose speed and even some accuracy without the recurve.
Just as I’m about to close the doors, a small bolt crossbow catches my eye. It’s compact, just like she is, and strong enough to pierce the hide of an ogre, unlike the longbow. When I return to the sand, she’s eyeing the equipment in my hands. She looks wary, but I can work with that. What isn’t going to work are the baggy sleeves of her shirt. I knew her attire would be a problem when I first saw her this morning, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell her that when it was clear she went to some effort. Looking at her now, I’m still torn. “Do you have anything under your top?” Her eyes pop wide, and she looks down. “The sleeves are too loose. It would be best if your arms were bare.”
“My bindings,” she admits softly.
“Bindings?” My mind immediately envisions her in a corset, but that’s not what she’s talking about. I don’t stop her when she begins unbuttoning her shirt with trembling hands, but I want to when I see the filthy cotton she has wrapped around her torso so tightly, I don’t know how she’s managing to breathe.
I look away, angry again about the things she’s been through and what she so easily puts up with. “Leave it on,” I rasp, unable to look at the material digging into her already too thin frame.
She doesn’t make a sound as she resecures her shirt, but her features have shifted. Her eyes are cast low again, and her cheeks are a ruddy pink that speaks of embarrassment. The desire to reassure her is there, as are several other ideas, like ripping the damn binding off of her, but then I imagine seeing what’s underneath, and I’m not sure I have the strength to walk away from that, knowing what she is to me. I’m also absolutely aware she’s not ready for that, so I do nothing but extend the longbow to her.
Briar wraps her fingers around the center handle. Her fingers are barely long enough to circle the damn thing, and it’s nearly as tall as she is. If the situation wasn’t so important, it might be funny, but her safety isn’t a laughing matter.
I take a step closer to her and loop the leather quiver over her head to rest against her chest. It is too large for her, but until I get one made for her, it will have to work. Without instruction, she reaches back, pulls out an arrow, and notches it on the string, using her finger to hold the arrow in place. It tells me she has used this kind of weapon before, which gives me a miniscule amount of hope.
“I’ll arrange a target for you. Have you ever used one of these?” I place the crossbow near her feet.
“No.” She shakes her head, and I notice the pink in her cheeks has already faded.
“We’ll work on that after you show me what you can do with the bow. I trust its ability to kill a little more.”
“To kill?” she blurts. “Who am I killing?”
“Anyone who would harm you.”
She looks down at the weapon at her feet and swallows thickly. It looks like my little flower is even more delicate than I thought. It might take some convincing to get her to understand that some things just need to die. “Let me see if you can handle the weight of the string.” I distract her with the job at hand.
With practiced confidence, she pulls her elbow back while keeping her other arm straight and lines the arrow up with the side of her mouth. The dark feathers kiss her cheek for only a moment before I see her thin arms begin to tremble ever so slightly.
“Release it into the sand.”
She twitches but doesn’t let go. “It will ruin the arrow.”
“Second lesson, don’t argue with me.”
The arrow flies before my next heartbeat, lodging twenty feet away in the sand as I’d asked. She peeks over at me as if she’s expecting censure.
“Was that where you were aiming?”
She shrugs. “I wasn’t really aiming.”
“I always want you to have a target. That way, you can learn to adjust and improve your accuracy. Do it again and try to hit the same spot.” I lean back and cross my arms over my chest. Briar opens her mouth as if to say something, but then she snaps it closed and readies the shot. I would bet she was going to argue about wasting the shot, but the fact that she didn’t proves she’s a fast learner.
I watch her closely, and when she pulls her elbow back this time, she takes the string to her jaw instead of her mouth. “Don’t move,” I say quietly, trying not to startle her, but she still reacts with a little shudder. I stand behind her, touching the side of her hip to keep her in place. Being this close to her is dangerous. I want to sink my face into the space behind her ear, inhale her scent, and listen to her breath catch from my touch. I want to run my lips and teeth along the inside of her thigh and drown in her. I have to shut my eyes and gather strength so I do not wrap my arms around her and pull her back into my body.
“Ziv?” she questions so softly, it makes my cock ache. I inhale her unique fragrance and open my eyes. Nothing has changed. I still want to sink inside her in every way imaginable, but I find the control to use two fingers on her wrist to reposition the string back to the corner of her mouth.
“This is your anchor point. Every time you pull the string back, I want it right here,” I instruct.
“Okay.” Her voice is breathy. I affect her just as much as she affects me, even if we’re both ignoring it.
“Now, steady your breathing.”
“Sorry.” She inhales but doesn’t release it.
“I said steady your breathing, not hold your breath.” The huff she releases relaxes her shoulders. “I want you to try to hit the arrow. Inhale, exhale, good. Now the next time I say exhale, exhale and release the arrow. Ready?”
“Yes,” she whispers.
“Inhale…exhale.”
The arrow flies right along with her breath and lands a foot away from the target. Not great, but not horrible either.
“Keep working while I get the target. Remember to exhale when you take the shot.” I take a step back from her and force my feet to carry me to the armory to get a straw dummy.
I take the time to adjust my dick down my leg so it doesn’t feel like I’m getting bent in half and mentally prepare myself for being too close to my mate, but not nearly close enough.