Chapter 18
Dion woke me up an hour before we usually would have packed up our camp. “Get up. You’ll have five minutes to get ready before I’ll come and haul you with me, whether you’re finished or not.”
It felt as if I had just fallen asleep, but Dion just ignored me and my grumbling.
Instead, he stalked off, and I narrowed my eyes. Sitting up, I grabbed my pillow and threw it at his retreating form.
Dion had the audacity to dodge my projectile without even looking, and I briefly wondered if he had eyes on the back of his head. He only chuckled as I watched in horror at how my pillow fell into a puddle of mud instead of hitting him.
I was mortified and grimaced when he turned back to me and simply smirked. This infuriating bastard! I would definitely steal his pillow the next night.
I quickly grabbed my clothes and hurried toward a secluded spot to change.
I was in a rush, and my mind was preoccupied with recalling yesterday’s revelations about mirror worlds, other species, and magical Amplifier.
As a result, I stayed closer to camp as usual, quickly removing my nightdress but leaving the band around my chest supporting my breasts in place.
The garment was still clean enough for now, but I’d have to change it soon too, or else it would start to smell.
The same was true for the leggings I was wearing.
I leaned forward, fishing for the clean dress I brought with me.
At least, that’s what I’d intended. Instead, rough, calloused fingers gently traced over the crisscross pattern disfiguring the skin of my back, and not only a shudder, but also a rush of panic swept through me. I’d always been careful not to show my scarred back to anyone, but now—I’d been seen.
I wanted to turn around, state of undress be damned, but a hand quickly grabbed my shoulder and held me in place.
I didn’t have to turn around to find out who’d been sneaking up on me.
Of course, Dion had followed me. I should have checked.
It wasn’t the first time he’d secretly stalked after me when I needed a moment alone. Overbearing, sneaky idiot, that one.
“Whom do I have to kill? Who’s responsible for all these scars?” Dion’s voice sounded dark, menacing, and even deeper than usual. The threat that his words and tone barely concealed was accompanied by a growl so feral that I had to suppress the urge to cower down.
“Let it go, Dion. It’s nothing of importance.
Definitely not anything worth coaxing out your murderous side,” I said in an attempt to defuse the situation, trying again to reach for my dress.
After learning to know him better, I didn’t doubt he’d go on a revenge spree if given the chance.
It didn’t necessarily have to do anything with me.
Instead, I was certain that it was more of an outlet for the violent tendencies he kept bottled up most of the time.
However, Dion didn’t accept my attempts to deflect. He held me in place and traced the scar tissue with the pads of his fingers on his other hand. “This is definitely not nothing.”
His touch tingled, and a pleasant warmth spread through my body. I couldn’t help but shudder again as each line that he painted on my back left aftershocks of tiny eruptions of charged sensations in its wake.
“You don’t get scars like that from nothing or by accident. What I see here are winters of intentional mistreatment. Some of them are so fresh they have barely healed. So let me ask you again, Nayana. Who did this to you?”
A part of me always reacted when Dion used my real name—abbreviated or not—instead of calling me by the nickname he’d chosen for me, but this was too personal. I shivered and shook my head. “The past is the past. Please let me get dressed now.”
“You will tell me. If not now, then soon,” Dion snarled, sounding frustrated.
This man. This infuriating, murderous, hotheaded, beautiful, caring man. He was slowly driving me insane.
I finally spun around, not caring one bit that I only wore a small piece of cloth wrapped around my chest, and I glared at his face. “Why should I tell you something so personal? Just last night, you clarified that we aren’t friends. So, forget what you saw. I don’t want you to know.”
Dion narrowed his eyes as he drew in an audible sharp breath, and for a moment, it felt good to have retaliated against his earlier rejection of my friendship.
However, the petty triumph quickly faded, leaving me with the lingering hurt of what he’d said yesterday, while I also did my best to ignore the pain clearly written in his eyes.
Frustrated, I grabbed my dress and quickly slipped into it. All the while, Dion watched me, not moving at all. I was already completely dressed when I heard him talking once more.
“Fine. As you wish, Jama. Come, we have work to do.”
I was afraid that today’s introduction to self-defense would be more of a disaster than a training session. Dion’s mood after our previous exchange was atrocious. The only thing he did was explain how to maintain a weapon and how to carry and hold it safely.
I examined Dion’s dagger he’d given to me. The blade’s silvery and shining metal was thin but sturdy. The crossguard was decorated in delicate engravings that looked like undulating whirls.
I was amazed at the beauty and intricacy of the weapon he possessed and wondered if I could keep it, but he argued that the blade was too long for me and, therefore, lacked proper balance. Was that a thing?
“Just tell me how to stab someone.” I jokingly slashed through the air, keeping a safe distance from Dion.
“Stop, Jama. This isn’t a toy, but a tool that has killed people before. You’ll never gain any kind of control over what you’re doing if you don’t even know the basics,” he barked at me, and I almost dropped the dagger.
Pouting, I sighed and corrected my hold as he’d shown me before.
“No. No, that won’t work. You need a shorter dagger. This one puts too much strain on your wrist and arm.”
I wanted to protest. After all, I wasn’t aiming for mastery but for simple self-defense, and I’d already proven that any weapon would do in a pinch. My words, though, got stuck in my throat when I observed what Dion was doing.
His forehead wrinkled in concentration, and black smoky matter appeared between his hands, slowly forming itself into the shape of a dagger. The smoke gradually solidified into a midnight-black material so dark it seemed to absorb the light.
It took a few minutes before Dion broke his concentration, and I was surprised to see some strain on his face.
“Take this. You can keep it for now. This dagger has the advantage that it won’t cut me, and you also can’t hurt yourself with it.
However, I want you to act as if it could so you won’t get all sloppy around it.
It’s a weapon, after all. Follow those rules, or I’ll take the dagger away.
And for the love of all the gods, Jama, don’t lose it.
” Dion glared at me as he exchanged the midnight dagger with his own.
I stared at the sleek blade in my hand, and it vibrated slightly from within as if it were…purring? I ignored Dion’s arrogant comments and smiled. “Beautiful. If I were able to do something like that, I would start selling them.”
“You wouldn’t. I locked a drop of my power inside so the dagger will stay permanent instead of vanishing after a while.”
“A drop of your power?” Was he really trying to tell me he’d sacrificed a permanent part of his magic so I’d have a weapon that wasn’t a few inches too long? Something warm bloomed inside my chest.
“Don’t look at me like that. Believe me, I have plenty to spare. This doesn’t weaken me at all.”
Ahh, his arrogance was back. Yet I smiled. This almost made up for yesterday’s rejection—which, in the light of the new day, came across more like an automatic defense mechanism—and I had to admit to myself that this training session wasn’t the catastrophe I thought it would be.
Half an hour later, everyone was up and awake, and the camp was already disassembled. Dion had bullied Ireas, who was luckily feeling much better already, into giving me a holster and a belt for my dagger. I took great care to attach all of it safely to myself.
When I was sure Dion wasn’t paying attention to me, my eyes searched for Thain to see if he was feeling better. His wounds had looked bad, and I was responsible for them in a way, after all, but he was already walking around and joking with Fig.
When he felt my eyes on him, he raised his hand and waved. “Hey Naya! Wanna ride with me again today?” His question was in total disregard for the potential human bomb in our camp, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he enjoyed provoking Dion.
I slowly counted to three in my head, but I hadn’t even reached two when Dion’s voice boomed through the clearing, “No!”
“You heard him.” I gave Thain a small shrug.
Even from a distance, I could have sworn I caught Dion growling in warning as Thain laughed. “Well, we can come together later when we rest. There’s quite a lot we have to chat about.”
I merely nodded, and Dion stalked over to me, ignoring Thain and the fact that he and I were talking, and he grabbed me by my good wrist. “Come along, on the horse with you.”
When had I started to tolerate that this man bossed and hauled me around?
One thing was for sure: I only allowed it because of his lethal temper and because of what I’d learned about the reasons why Dion had so much leeway with everyone.
But it wouldn’t take long anymore before we had to discuss his behavior in a serious debate.
After he’d manhandled me on our horse and had mounted behind me, I sighed. “Will you please take off the godsdamned choker?”
“Can’t do that, Jama. Fig’s order.” The smugness in Dion’s voice made my fingers itch with the urge to slap him. Of course, he enjoyed a decree that suited him for once.