Chapter Sixteen #2
She stands reluctantly, golden eyes narrowed with growing suspicion and something that might be anticipation. "What exactly do you want me to demonstrate?"
"Everything," I growl, stalking toward her as we face each other in the cleared space.
"Did he stand close like this?" I circle her predatorily, my breath hot against her neck, close enough to smell the intoxicating scent of her skin.
"Did his hands linger when adjusting your stance?
Did he whisper instructions in your ear while pressed against your back? "
"Stop," she warns, but I can feel her body's treacherous response through our weakened bond, a flicker of unwanted heat that she can't quite suppress.
"Show me how you fight," I command suddenly, stepping back just far enough to give her room to move. "Attack me as if you mean to kill me. As if I'm standing between you and everything you've ever wanted."
She hesitates only a moment before reaching into one of her hidden pockets, withdrawing a dagger with practiced speed.
The blade gleams wickedly in the firelight as she lunges with deadly precision that would have gutted a lesser opponent, but I sidestep with inhuman speed, my shadows capturing her wrist.
"Pathetic," I taunt, twisting until the blade clatters to the floor with a sharp ring. "Is that really how the famous Order of the Silent Blade trains its killers? Or did you spend more time on your back than in actual combat training?"
Fury explodes across her face like wildfire, transforming her from composed lady to deadly predator in an instant.
This time when she moves, it's with a ferocity that catches even me off guard.
Her foot connects with my sternum hard enough to send me back several steps, and a second dagger—drawn from another concealed pocket—misses my throat by mere inches.
My shadows surge forward with lethal intent, but she's already moving, shrugging off her outer robe in one fluid motion to reveal the simpler dress beneath that allows for greater mobility.
Two more blades appear in her hands as she attacks with mesmerizing skill and breathtaking speed, each weapon drawn from carefully hidden sheaths throughout her clothing.
"That's better," I laugh with genuine exhilaration as one blade draws blood across my forearm, the sting sharp and delicious. "The kitten has claws after all. Show me more."
She responds with a complex series of strikes that force me to concentrate fully, her body moving with lethal grace that's hypnotic to watch. Each movement flows seamlessly into the next, her fighting style combining deadly precision with raw, animalistic power.
"Did he fuck you after training sessions like this?
" I ask, blocking a vicious strike aimed at my face while my shadows dance around us both.
"When you were both sweating and blood-hot from combat?
Did you wrap those lovely thighs around him right there on the training mats while your hearts were still racing? "
"Shut your filthy mouth," she snarls, attacking with renewed vigor that makes my pulse spike with arousal.
"I'd rather have your mouth around my cock," I reply with deliberate crudeness designed to shatter her control. "Like he had, I imagine. Did you swallow for him, little assassin? Did you moan his name when he buried himself inside your tight cunt?"
With a scream of pure rage that reverberates through the room, she lunges at me recklessly, abandoning technique for raw fury.
My shadows seize the opportunity immediately, wrapping around her in mid-air and slamming her against the wall with enough force to knock the breath from her lungs.
Still, she struggles magnificently, refusing to yield even when completely at my mercy.
I approach slowly, savoring her helplessness as my shadows pin her arms above her head, her chest heaving with exertion and fury. " Was that the complete truth? That the man who I tore from the inside out,was your lover, your trainer, your first?"
"Yes," she hisses through clenched teeth, golden eyes blazing with hatred so pure it's almost beautiful. "Are you satisfied now, you bastard?"
"Not even close," I murmur, tracing my finger along her jaw with deceptive gentleness while violence simmers just beneath my skin. "Tell me the second truth. What else do you hope to gain from our arrangement besides your brother's safety?"
She goes perfectly still, calculation visible in her golden eyes as she weighs her options carefully. "Freedom," she finally whispers, the word carrying the weight of desperation. "For myself. For my people. For everyone trapped in this endless cycle of violence."
I laugh with genuine amusement at her audacity. "And how exactly do you plan to achieve that lofty goal while bound to me by blood magic that grows stronger every day?"
"I'll find a way," she promises with absolute conviction that sends a thrill through me. "I always do."
"Such fire," I observe, leaning closer until my lips brush her ear and I can feel her shiver. "Did Aslan understand what burns beneath that carefully constructed facade? Or did he only know the parts of you that you allowed him to see? The sweet, gentle Nesilhan who played at being normal?"
"Don't speak his name," she warns, struggling futilely against my shadows.
I grasp her throat with one hand, not squeezing, just asserting complete control over her very breath.
"I'll speak whatever fucking name I please.
Aslan. ASLAN. Does it hurt to hear it? To remember how he died choking on his own blood while I watched the light fade from his eyes?
How he whispered your name with his last breath? "
Her response is instant and savage; she spits directly in my face with perfect aim. "I will kill you for that," she promises, each word like shards of ice. "I will make you suffer as he suffered. I will make you beg."
I wipe the spittle away with deliberate slowness, then smile, a genuine expression of pure pleasure at her magnificent defiance.
"There she is. The real Nesilhan Alari. Not the diplomat's daughter.
Not the reluctant bride. The assassin. The killer who dreams of my blood on her hands.
" I lean until our noses nearly touch. "You're absolutely exquisite when you stop pretending to be anything other than what you are. "
Confusion flickers across her face, warring with the fury. "What are you—"
I silence her with a kiss so brutal it draws blood from us both. She bites down hard on my lower lip in retaliation, and I laugh against her mouth, the coppery taste mixing between us like a dark communion.
"Still fighting," I approve, pressing my body against hers until she can feel every inch of my arousal. "Even now, even like this."
My shadows force her to her knees before me with inexorable strength. She glares up from her position, defiance blazing in every line of her body despite her submission.
"Is this what you want?" she demands, her voice rough with emotion. "To force me to submit? To prove your power over me?"
"What I want," I say, untying my trousers with deliberate slowness while holding her gaze, "is truth. The third truth, specifically. Why did you save my life from the assassin when letting me die would have solved all your problems and freed you from this marriage?"
Through our bond, I feel her genuine confusion warring with something deeper she won't acknowledge. "The blood bond," she offers weakly. "If you died violently, I would suffer the same fate."
"A convenient explanation," I reply, freeing my already achingly hard cock from my clothing, "but not the complete truth. We both know the bond wouldn't have killed you, only caused you pain. Try again."
Her breathing quickens visibly as her eyes fix on my arousal despite herself. "I don't know," she admits finally, frustration and confusion evident in her voice. "I just... reacted. I didn't think."
"Interesting," I murmur, stroking myself inches from her face while watching her pupils dilate.
"So the trained assassin, the woman who plans everything down to the smallest detail, just happened to save her enemy's life without thinking?
" I tilt her chin up with my free hand, forcing her to meet my eyes.
"I need more than that from you, hatun . "
"I can't…" she begins, frustration making her voice crack slightly. "I need time. The third truth is... complicated."
"Very well," I concede, my hand sliding into her silky hair with surprising gentleness. "You have until tomorrow for that one. But in exchange, you'll give me something else right now."
"What?" she asks, her eyes fixed on my cock with a mixture of hatred and something much more dangerous.
"I want you to show me what you feel when I touch you," I reply, tightening my grip in her hair just enough to make her gasp. "I want you to stop pretending that your body doesn't respond to me even as your mind rejects everything I represent."
"I hate you," she insists, but her pupils have dilated, her breathing shallow and rapid.
"I know," I smile, pressing the head of my cock against her lips with deliberate slowness. "But hatred and desire aren't mutually exclusive, are they, little assassin? Your body betrays you even now. I can smell your arousal."
I stroke her cheek with my thumb, the gesture almost tender despite the circumstances. "Open your mouth for me, Nesilhan. Not because I force you, but because we both know you want to taste me. "
She remains frozen, her golden eyes locked with mine, a war clearly raging within her beautiful, deadly soul.
Fury and desire battle across her features—each fighting for dominance while her chest rises and falls with rapid breaths.
I can feel the hunger radiating from her through our bond, at odds with the hatred that still burns bright and magnificent.