Chapter 9
M y little doll was like a stubborn glitch in the code, constantly looping and refusing to be resolved. Her technique was average, and her supports weren’t solid, yet that moron Sylas always found something to encourage her about by lying to her, pretending that this display of mediocrity was satisfying.
The light switched green, and my opponent scored her first point, thanks to my lack of attention.
I cracked my neck and let her attack while counterattacking, scoring a point on her foot. The red light switched on. Too predictable. I had entertained this duel and all the previous duels because my next opponent would be Dalia. When we’d switch, in about thirty seconds, she’d come to me.
I’d saved her for last.
I surprised myself with how poetic I was with her. The red light flickered again. Each combat sport was all about tactics and knowing your adversary’s weaker points, which was my thing. Fencing was Pantheon’s golden sport for people of our “pedigrees.”
“You’re weak, Amelia. Levi, finish her.” Tara arrived by our side at the last five seconds, her arms crossed.
“As you wish.”
I made Amelia, Tara’s pet, lose her balance and fall backward. The light flickered red, and I pulled my mask off. Now, Dalia, where are —
“Get up!” Tara’s scream echoed across the room.
The girl took off her mask. “He won. The fight is over.”
“Let’s just switch adversaries,” I said, my patience thinning.
But Tara aimed her foil in the direction of her face. “It’s over when I say it is.” Tara shifted her attention to me. “I’m taking your place.”
“Let it go,” I told her, not out of sympathy but because I had my own adversary to get to.
The girl struggled to get up while someone kneeled beside her and, with a failed whisper, said, “If she underestimates you, she won’t defend her guard. You got this.”
There she was, Dalia Mercier, her absurd braid framing her determination to alienate the very cream of our school’s crop. That Unifier’s mentality would only lead her sooner to her grave.
“You’re saying I have weaknesses?” Tara screamed in a high-pitched tone. Dalia had touched a nerve. I breathed loudly. Here we go again . “Please enlighten me, newbie.”
“You’re one of the best here, and I’m sure your technique is nearly perfect, but no one is invincible,” Dalia’s frail voice said as she held her sword in both hands. “If you teach us how to improve instead of just gloating, maybe we’ll stand a chance against you.”
“Amelia, do you have a chance to win against me?”
“No,” the girl groaned.
“Get up and move before I change my mind,” Tara ordered the girl off and advanced toward Dalia. “You want to give advice, so please show me what you’re worth.”
Hell no! I hadn’t waited an entire hour for Tara to beat me to it.
“Come on, Tara,” Sylas tried to reason with her. “We both know you’ll win. She’s not a threat to you. She’s just here to have fun, right?”
Look at him, trying to shield her from danger by being a fucking victim.
Tara jerked her head back. “Sylas, you’re terrible at fencing. Don’t play the hero. Pick your weapon, newbie. We have a tradition here at Pantheon; we ‘duel to first blood,’ meaning no masks on. Unless you’re afraid?”
That tradition dated back to the Renaissance. It used to be a demonstration of skills and courage to resolve a conflict, adopted by the Pioneers as their personal favorite. The fight would only stop once blood was drawn.
“Okay,” Dalia said, her voice breaking as she lowered her mask, ensuring it made contact with the floor as softly as a feather settling on a breeze.
“En garde. I can’t wait to carve my initials on your cheek.”
And that was my cue.
“Not so fast,” I intervened. “I’ll take care of her.”
Dalia was mine to mess with and no one else’s.
“Are you seriously taking her defense?” Tara squinted her eyes at me. “You’ve softened, Levi, and it’s my fencing class.”
“On the contrary. This one is mine. You have your pet. I have mine,” I countered, mustering a smile. “Now, back off, Tara.”
“Fine, have your way with her.” She snorted. “The whole school has their eyes set on you, don’t fuck this up.”
“When did I ever?” I went back to Dalia and opened my arms. “Put your mask back on. I’m playing it fair.”
She didn’t. Dalia’s grip tightened on her foil, and defiance flickered in her eyes as she muttered, “I don’t care. Do what you will.”
My lips curled when I met Sylas’s disapproving stare. I bowed dramatically. “As you wish, my pet.”
Dalia squared off against me. The clang of steel against steel resonated through the practice room. With a fierce lunge, she initiated her assault, aiming to dismantle me. I sidestepped her blade and evaded her attack without a hint of difficulty.
Once.
Twice.
“Come on, little thief, is that all you’ve got?” I taunted, avoiding another attack. “You’d think all those years playing violin would have helped, but your arms are weak.”
Her arm trembled from the repeated parries and attacks. She lunged forward, her blade aiming for my shoulder. She failed, and the corners of my mouth lifted. What will you do next?
“Stop playing with her, Levi!” a student yelled.
“Come on!” another screamed, and I resisted the urge to slice his mouth open. I wanted to pretend my little thief and I were having a private one-on-one here. Was that too much to ask?
“Your downforce is lousy. You’re small; you should be faster,” I commanded her.
My foil swept down in an arc toward her. She didn’t manage to deflect the blow. Light flickered red. I could imagine the pounding of her heart as she gritted her teeth.
She didn’t give up. She focused on her footwork, trying to attack, but the clash of our blades sent a jolt of vibration down her trembling arm. She staggered back, her footing unsteady. I took advantage of her momentary weakness, my blade finding an opening and scoring a point against her on her arm.
Red again.
“You’re weak,” I sneered. “If you don’t use my momentum to counter, you’ll never win.”
“Why are you pretending to teach me?” she snapped.
“I don’t like easy wins,” I said.
A flush of anger crept up her cheeks. She tightened her grip on the foil and charged forward, launching a flurry of attacks. I deflected them, and with a quick parry-riposte combination, I landed another hit, the impact stinging her chest.
“It’s a shame the choir rejected you. Maybe if you beg, they’ll make an exception to have you back?”
She staggered back, her breathing coming in ragged gasps. “How did you know about that?”
By the way her mouth parted, I believed she finally understood. She’d wanted to pick fencing but didn’t have the guts to, so I’d made that happen out of the generosity of my own heart.
“You should thank me. I wouldn’t have gone through all of this trouble for just anyone.” I trapped her into an attack she couldn’t dodge until I was close enough to whisper in her ear, “Precision beats brute strength.”
“Stop toying with me and finish this.” Her eyes watered, strands of her hair falling on her face, beads of sweat glistening on her forehead. Beautiful .
“As you wish.”
With one final attack, my foil stuck her chest, a clear point scored. She stumbled backward, the hall echoing with the sound of her defeat. She was on the ground, catching her breath.
My blade on her exposed neck, she craned her eyes up to me, one tear sliding down her cheek.
Told you I’d make you cry.
“Mark her!” a student yelled.
I crouched down, looming above her lying frame.
“I believe I just clipped your wings, my broken doll,” I whispered, drawing closer to her face while my blade cut the ribbon in her hair. “I’m thinking of collecting those.”
She didn’t let any more of her tears fall, but her face was burning red. “I loathe you, Levi.”
“Done trying to save my soul?”
When she didn’t reply, my blade drew blood on the side of her neck. Red. Pretty.
“You’re unhinged.”
“And I’m inked in your skin,” I purred.
“I’ll carve myself if it means having no reminders of you.”
“Be careful. That could be my kind of foreplay.”
“Fuck you,” she cursed.
“Not interested.”
My tongue darted on her wound as I licked her. She whimpered, and unless my senses were deceiving me, I felt her leaning into my tongue.
“Who knew the second thing I’d taste of you would be your blood?” I breathed.
For all I knew, I didn’t have a blood kink, but something about Dalia made me want to possess everything about her. It was sickening. And the worst thing? My dick had fucking hardened into my pants. No. Fuck, no.
I immediately pulled away from her and let my foil fall to the ground, its metallic clang resonating sharply through the room. She put herself back on her feet and flew away to the locker room, probably crying. It’d be the last time she’d be doing fencing.
“Why are you all standing there? The duels are not over, en garde!” Tara screamed at her puppets, thundering by my side. “You were messing with her. If she were against me, I wouldn’t have missed her. When we do duels, we mark our opponent on the cheek. You went for a silly spot on the neck.”
I indulged her jealous self with a smirk. “Well, it would be such a pity to damage such a pretty face, don’t you think? She got what she deserved. She won’t be coming back here.”
The foils clashed with a resounding clang, accompanied by the hissing, high-pitched screams of footsteps behind us.
“You spoke too soon,” Tara chortled.
I turned around. Dalia was back, partnering up with Sylas. She hadn’t left. My cold blood ran hot.
She hadn’t fucking left.
Instead, she had her reddened eyes fixed on me.
Well, look at that.
I smiled.