Chapter Ten
The morning air nips at my exposed skin as I stretch out on the dewy grass of the training field. Dawn's barely broken, painting the sky in soft pinks and oranges. Perfect time to review these lesson plans before the chaos starts.
I spread the papers across my lap, squinting at the formal text and making notes in the margins. These plans are too rigid, too formal for halfbloods who've never had proper training. We need something more practical, more hands-on.
Footsteps crunch across the grass. I don't need to look up to recognize that particular stride—measured, precise, probably paired with a scowl. My lips curl into a smirk.
“Well, well. I thought you were going to request a transfer.” I lift my eyes to meet Dohwan's annoyed glare. He stands over me, hands shoved in his pockets, jaw tight.
His upper lip curls. “I did. Elder Nam refused.”
That makes me pause. “Elder Nam assigned the instructors?”
He doesn't answer, just continues glowering down at me like I'm personally responsible for his misfortune. I shrug it off and hold out the lesson plans.
“Here. You'll want to look these over before class starts.”
Dohwan snatches the papers, his eyes scanning the pages. His brows draw together, creating a deep furrow between them. “What are all these scribbles?”
A grin spreads across my face. “Just some improvements. The original plan was too theoretical. Our students need something more practical.” I point to one of my annotations. “See? Instead of lecturing about defensive stances, we'll have them actually practice blocking techniques.”
“You can't just change the approved curriculum,” he growls.
“Watch me.” I lean back on my hands, enjoying how the muscle in his jaw ticks.
Dohwan's jaw continues to work as he stares at the papers, but he doesn't argue further. Students begin trickling onto the field, and I push myself up, brushing grass from my pants.
“Remember,” I say under my breath, “most of them have never had formal training.”
He gives me a curt nod and steps away, putting distance between us as the halfbloods gather.
“Alright everyone,” I call out, clapping my hands. “Let's start with some basic stances.”
I demonstrate the first position, watching as the students mirror my movements. Dohwan circles the group, his presence making several students tense up.
“No,” he snaps at one male. “Your guard is too low. You're leaving yourself exposed.”
The student flinches, his form crumbling. Before I can intervene, Dohwan grabs the male's arms, roughly adjusting his stance.
“Hey,” I bark. “Hands off.”
Dohwan's head whips toward me, eyes flashing. “They need to learn proper form.”
“They need to feel comfortable first.” I move between him and the student. “Why don't you demonstrate instead of manhandling them?”
He steps back, nostrils flaring, but complies. I guide the students through the basic forms while Dohwan demonstrates, though his movements are sharp with irritation.
Things really go sideways when we move to wielding practice. I planned to start with defensive blocks, but Dohwan immediately launches into aggressive striking techniques.
“Power comes from the core,” he instructs, demonstrating a forceful forward thrust. “Channel your affinity through your center and direct it outward.”
“Stop,” I cut in as several students struggle to copy him. “That's too advanced. They need to learn control before power.”
“Control without power is useless,” he snarls.
“Power without control is dangerous,” I snap back. Heat rises under my skin as my temper flares. “These are basics, not combat training.”
“They need to be prepared—”
“They need to be safe!” Flames lick along my arms as my control slips. The students back away, eyes wide.
Dohwan steps toward me, his own fire manifesting in a corona around his shoulders. “You're coddling them again.”
“And you're being reckless.” The grass at my feet starts to smoke.
We face each other, both wreathed in fire now, the air between us shimmering with heat. The students have scattered to the edges of the field, watching with a mix of fear and fascination as two fire affinities square off.
Our fires dance and weave around each other, neither quite touching but both threatening to ignite. The air shimmers with waves of heat, distorting Dohwan's rigid form as he glares at me across the scorched grass.
His jaw works, teeth grinding audibly before he turns sharply to address the wide-eyed students. “Class dismissed.”
The halfbloods scatter like leaves in a windstorm, some stumbling in their haste to get away from the brewing conflict. Smart of them. I hold my ground, chin lifted, watching Dohwan from beneath lowered lashes as the last student disappears around the corner of the building.
The second we're alone, Dohwan whirls toward me, eyes blazing with golden fire. “I've had enough of your insolence.”
A laugh bubbles up from my chest, sharp and mocking. “Insolence? You can't be insolent to someone who isn't an authority figure.” I bare my teeth in a feral grin. “I don't bend to your will.”
He stalks toward me, closing the distance until we're nearly chest to chest. His height forces me to tip my head back to maintain eye contact, but I refuse to step away.
His breath fans hot across my face as he snarls, “If you want to be fae so badly, you can win your right to dominance the fae way.”
My smile widens, satisfaction curling through my veins like liquid fire. “I've been waiting for exactly that.”
I manifest a ball of flame in my palm and hurl it straight at his face.
Dohwan dodges my fireball with infuriating grace, twisting to the side as flames explode against the ground where he stood. His own fire whips out in retaliation, a precise lance of heat that I bat aside with a wall of roaring flame.
“There you are. Not going to run again?” I taunt, gathering power in my core. The fire inside me burns hotter than any I've felt before, feeding off my anger and frustration.
He doesn't reply, but his eyes narrow as he launches a rapid series of attacks.
Each blast comes faster than the last, forcing me to dance and weave.
His movements are fluid poetry, each step calculated and controlled.
But I can see the strain in his jaw, the extra effort he needs to maintain such precision.
I respond with raw power, sending waves of fire that light up the field like a second sun. The grass withers and burns beneath our feet as we circle each other. Dohwan leaps and rolls to avoid my attacks, his perfect composure starting to crack.
“Getting tired?” I laugh as he barely deflects another blast. My fire roars with my voice, twice as intense as his controlled flames. Each burst of power comes easier than the last, like opening a floodgate.
He snarls and changes tactics, rushing forward through my flames. I meet his charge head-on, manifesting walls of fire to force him back. But he's quick, darting through gaps in my defense, closing the distance.
“You rely too much on brute force,” he pants, sending a precisely aimed jet of flame at my feet.
I jump the attack and counter with an explosive burst that makes him stumble. “And you're too concerned with looking pretty while you fight.”
Our flames clash between us, orange and gold intertwining in deadly spirals.
The heat distorts the air, making Dohwan's form waver like a mirage as he weaves through my attacks.
But for all his skill and grace, he can't match my raw output.
Each blast I throw forces him to move faster, work harder to maintain his defense.
I press my advantage, hurling fire with both hands now. The flames respond to my will like eager pets, hungry and wild. Dohwan's perfect form starts to slip as he struggles to keep up with the barrage. A bead of sweat rolls down his temple—the first crack in his aristocratic facade.
The air crackles with tension as Dohwan draws himself up, chest heaving. His eyes flash golden, and suddenly the temperature spikes. My instincts scream danger a split second before he unleashes a massive wave of fire.
I throw up a defensive wall, gritting my teeth as the force of his attack slams against my barrier. The flames roar and writhe, trying to break through. Heat pushes against my skin, but I hold firm, channeling more power into the shield.
Movement catches my eye—too late I realize the blast was a diversion. Dohwan bursts through the flames, closing the distance between us in two long strides. His fist shoots toward my face with deadly precision.
I duck and weave, barely avoiding the strike. His eyes widen as I snap into a defensive stance, clearly not expecting me to know how to fight hand-to-hand. A grin spreads across my face at his surprise.
“Truly, you can't expect I would've been able to survive in the human world without knowing how to throw a punch, did you?”
He recovers quickly, launching into a series of rapid strikes. I meet each one, blocking and countering with moves honed through years of training. Our bodies move in a deadly dance—punch, block, kick, dodge. Neither of us lands a solid hit.
Sweat beads on my forehead as we trade blows. He's stronger, with a longer reach, but I'm faster and more agile. I dart inside his guard, aiming a kick at his ribs that he barely blocks. His return strike whistles past my ear as I spin away.
We circle each other, looking for openings. My breath comes in sharp pants, muscles burning from exertion. But excitement thrums through my veins—finally, a real challenge.
Dohwan's leg sweeps out suddenly, aiming to take my feet from under me. I whirl away, but his follow-up kick catches my hip hard. The impact throws me off balance and I stumble.
He presses his advantage immediately. Before I can recover, he tackles me to the ground. We hit the scorched grass hard, grappling for dominance. His greater size and weight work against me as he pins me down, one arm across my chest, legs tangled with mine to prevent me from kicking free.
Dohwan's clothed arm presses against my throat, his weight pinning me to the scorched earth. His fangs flash in the morning light as he looms over me, a snarl of triumph rumbling in his chest. The fabric of his sleeve is rough against my skin.
Too bad he thinks he's already won.
I yank my right leg free from where it's trapped beneath him, driving my knee hard into his chest. The impact forces a grunt from his lips, his eyes widening in shock.
As his arm shifts from my throat, I twist my legs, hooking them around his body.
His free arm comes up to block what he thinks will be another knee strike.
Instead, I slam my fist into the side of his head.
The blow catches him completely off guard. His balance falters, and I use the momentum to roll us. We spin across the burnt grass, and suddenly I'm on top, straddling his waist. The dagger I kept hidden in my pocket now rests against the pale skin of his throat.
Dohwan blinks up at me, dazed. His perfect hair is mussed with dirt and grass, chest heaving beneath me.
Those aristocratic features twist in disbelief as he processes how quickly the tables turned.
The sharp angles of his face catch the light, making him look almost ethereal despite the smudge of dirt on his cheek and the way his usually immaculate clothes are now wrinkled and stained.
I can feel the heat radiating from him—fire fae always run hot—and the rapid rise and fall of his breathing beneath where I'm straddling him.
I bare my fangs in a fierce grin, letting him see my victory written in every line of my body. My smaller fangs might not be as impressive as his, but they get the message across just fine. I'm the winner. I'm the dominant one here.
I press the blade closer, ready to draw blood if he refuses to yield. But Dohwan surprises me again. His body goes slack beneath mine, head dropping back to expose his throat. His lips close over his fangs—the ultimate gesture of submission among fae.
His fae instincts have won out over his pride. He knows he's lost.
I stay frozen above him, chest heaving as the fight drains from my muscles. Dohwan blinks up at me, dark eyes still burning with defiance even as his body remains submissive beneath mine. The blade at his throat keeps him still, but neither of us moves or speaks.
My victory high starts to fade as awareness creeps in.
Every point of contact between our bodies suddenly feels electric—his solid chest under my thighs, the heat of him seeping through our clothes, the way his breathing makes our bodies rise and fall together.
The morning air feels thick and heavy around us.
“Shit,” I curse under my breath, practically leaping off him like his skin has scorched me.
My legs shake as I stumble back, blood rushing in my ears.
Heat that has nothing to do with our fight floods my body.
Adrenaline and arousal war in my veins, making my hands tremble as I shove my dagger back in its sheath.
I know he can smell it on me—that damning spike of desire. Fae senses are too keen to miss something like that. My face burns as I try to steady my breathing, to get myself under control.
Dohwan rises slowly, his movements stiff and careful. He makes a show of brushing dirt and ash from his clothes, attempting to salvage what dignity he can. His perfect appearance is thoroughly ruined—shirt torn and singed, hair wild, a bruise already darkening along his jaw where I struck him.
Looking around, I wince at the destruction we've caused. The training field is a wasteland of scorched earth and smoldering grass. Black patches of burnt ground radiate out from where we fought, smoke still curling up in lazy spirals.
He shoots me one last look—something complex and unreadable in his eyes—before turning away. His usual graceful stride is marred by a slight limp as he heads toward the building.
I wait until he's out of sight before moving to leave myself. As I cross the ruined field, a scent catches my attention through the heavy smell of smoke and ash. I freeze, nostrils flaring as I process what I'm picking up.
Male arousal. Strong and unmistakable.
My steps falter as the realization hits me. Dohwan had been just as affected by our fight as I was. And I don't know how to feel about that.