Chapter 18 #2
He was caught completely off guard, stunned by the sheer rapidity of her reflexes. The grin that lit her face had his breath leaving him in a ragged sigh, one she completely misinterpreted.
“I told you I was fast.” And her smile took on a mischievous gleam.
Aelia was on him with newfound ferocity, throwing herself at him in every way she could think of. Although stunned at first, Keeran fended her off easily, batting her away again and again.
Her grin faded almost immediately, her eyes flashing with frustration as her breathing started to come in gasps.
Gods, she was quick, and strong, too. He’d never encountered an artemian like her, her reflexes so fast her body was quickly recognising the patterns in his attacks.
She was no Dragon, not even close, but with a little training, she’d be a force to be reckoned with.
The thought made him grin, his teeth glinting in the flickering light of the fire.
“How are you so quick?” Aelia asked between breaths.
“How are you?” he shot back. “Stop dropping your left elbow, it leaves you open to attack and makes it hard for you to strike with it.”
He demonstrated, swiping his elbow towards her, slow enough for her to block it.
She lifted her elbow into a more defensive position, trying to mimic him.
He let her practice a few times before he moved on, yelling tips at her, pushing her hard.
If her concentration failed, or she forgot something he’d told her, he added a little extra weight to his blows.
It wasn’t long before she was cursing him.
Keeran turned in a circle around her, yelling a barrage of commands about her footwork, when her elbow dropped. Again.
He gritted his teeth, patience wavering, and swept into the opening she’d left him to deal her a memorable jab. She cried out, stepping back to hug her recently healed side.
“Elbow up,” he reminded her, calmly. There wasn’t time for her to keep making the same mistakes over and over again. Dropping into a crouch, he curled his fingers at her, encouraging her back towards him.
“You’re a fucking jerk, you know that?” she hissed, glaring daggers at him.
“You’ve mentioned it once or twice.” He couldn’t help the lopsided grin that spread across his face. “Now get over here.”
“Why, so you can show off some more?” Aelia bit out, folding her arms across her chest.
“Darling, if I were trying to show off, you’d be flat on your back.”
A dark smile pulled at her lips, making Keeran’s chest tighten. “Well, I’m game if you are.”
Keeran’s own grin fell from his face as he replayed what he’d said.
Her smile had words scattering from his brain like bees from a hive.
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out, his chance at a witty reply scuttling off into the silence.
He’d settle for any reply at this point, but the thought of Aelia flat on her back, his for the taking, had turned his mind to jelly.
Aelia had no such difficulty. Unfortunately.
“Or are you all bark and no bite?” She quirked an eyebrow, leaning closer with her arms still tightly crossed. “Because so far, all you’ve done is nibble.”
Keeran’s blood roared in his ears before it rushed elsewhere, quickly.
Any doubts he had about her wanting him vanished, and the other half of him stretched itself into his consciousness, black and scaled and wanting Aelia with a need that had his fists clenching.
A few days ago, he’d have killed for her to flirt with him, but everything had changed last night.
The fucking pair bond was not something he was prepared to risk, not even for her. The thought snapped him back to himself, his fear of the bond kicking his brain into gear.
“Why don’t we even the odds a little?” Keeran said huskily, his voice betraying what he was fighting to suppress. He gestured to her dagger with a dismissive flick of his fingers. “Take that out.”
Aelia blinked, surprised at his cold tone, but her hand dropped to the hilt of the dagger obediently.
“You want me to use this?” The steel reflected the firelight as she unsheathed it, gleaming wickedly. It was a beautiful weapon, worth more than he suspected she realised. Not for the first time, he wondered where she’d got it.
“I want you to try your best to cut me,” he said, tone hard, face unreadable.
Aelia scoffed. “You can’t be that cocky.”
Keeran allowed a little of the darkness to enter his eyes, just enough to trigger that innate fear response in her. From the way her face paled, it worked. He ignored the way his heart sank into his boots; how easily people recognised the evil in him, even her, even now.
“How about we make a deal?” He smiled wickedly, pushing past his self-loathing. “If you manage to draw blood, I’ll cook every meal until we find Beserkir.”
“And if I don’t?” Aelia side-eyed him, suspiciously.
“You have to cook.” There was no way this contest wasn’t going to be seriously rigged. He’d let her cut him, anything rather than suffer through any more of her cooking, but he was going to make her work bloody hard for it.
“Those are some high stakes,” she said, scrunching her lips into a tight line as she considered it. “I saw you with those thieves yesterday.”
“Now who’s got no bite?”
Aelia scowled at him, taking a few more moments to think it over before replying.
“Fine.”
Keeran opened his arms wide, exposing his broad chest. “Give it your best shot.”
Aelia lunged at him, but it was a half-hearted attempt, and he knocked her aside lazily.
“You’re going to have to try harder than that,” he teased, enjoying the frustrated frown on her face a little too much.
It took her a while to find the confidence to start trying in earnest, holding herself back in case she actually hurt him, but after a few minutes of him batting her away with smug effortlessness, her anger started to get the better of her.
On her next attack, he grabbed her arm and twisted, enough to send her spinning to face the opposite direction. He shoved her between her shoulders and sent her staggering forwards.
“Just because you’re attacking, doesn’t mean you can lower your defences,” he said as she whirled to face him again. “If you’re close enough to someone to attack them, they're close enough to attack you.”
And so they continued, him barking instructions at her, her trying and failing to hide her growing anger.
He was surprised at how quickly she was learning.
He was throwing way more at her than she should be able to handle at this stage, but she lapped it up, albeit through gritted teeth.
If anything, the harder he pushed her, the harder she pushed right back.
And he was more than happy to push, if it meant making the most of what little time they had.
The realisation hit him like a ton of bricks.
Who knew how long he had before they caught up with Beserkir?
A day, a week? The memory of the thieves attacking her flooded his mind, closely followed by the Astraea attack, then Shiva and his thugs.
How many times would she have died if he hadn’t been there?
The thought broke through the wall he’d thrown up around the tugging in his chest, unleashing a terrible, gnawing anger.
He needed to make sure she was safe on the road back to Callodosis.
He needed to make sure she was safe, always.
So, with a flash of movement, he disarmed her, popping the blade from her grasp. Her exasperated growl made him grin.
“You’re enjoying this far too much,” she snarled.
“I warned you I would. Like I said earlier,” he opened his hands out in front of him, twirling the dagger expertly between his fingers. “Cathartic.”
“Show me how you did that,” Aelia demanded, ignoring him. He obliged, handing her back the dagger and slowing the movement down for her to process what he was doing.
“Want me to show you again?” he offered, holding the dagger out to her.
“No, I got it,” she said, before lunging at him without warning. The manoeuvre was bang on, incredibly, but without enough power to knock it from his grasp.
“Good.” He frowned, impressed again by how quickly she picked things up. “But not enough to disarm me. Try harder, Aelia.”
She glowered at him, her green eyes narrowing as she tried again, one hand forcing his wrist down on itself whilst her other made to smack the blade out from the weakest part of his grip. She didn’t see his other fist coming.
“Your opponent has two hands,” he reminded her, waving his free hand at her with a smug grin.
Aelia rubbed her shoulder, nodding despite the deep frown lines creasing her forehead.
She came at him again, this time ready for the other hand. She was not, however, ready for the leg that swept her own out from under her.
“Two hands and two legs, Aelia.” He flipped the dagger cockily.
She hauled herself up, not voicing a word of protest. She didn’t have to; they were written all over her face.
“Again,” he ordered.
This time, she didn’t even make contact with his wrist before he had her on the floor again.
“Faster, Aelia.”
She was. She blocked his first swing but let the second and third make contact before she landed back on her arse.
“I thought you wanted this, Aelia. You’re never going to learn if you spend half the time lying on the floor. Faster, stop wasting our time.”
“I am.”
“If you were, you wouldn’t be covered in dirt.”
This time he lunged for her, letting her block the first few before he upped the tempo, pushing her faster and faster.
Her technique was still sloppy but anger crackled in those green eyes, driving her on.
He just hoped it would be enough to make her forget herself.
With a swipe of his leg, he sent her back into the grass.
This time she was up almost before she’d landed, the cracks in her restraint showing one of those precious glimmers of her true potential.
He didn’t give her a chance to recognise it, to slow down.
He pushed her, harder and harder, until her ego was as bruised as her behind and finally, finally, she lost control. With a snarl any artemian would have been proud of, she threw herself at him. His elation was matched only by his surprise at the force with which she came at him.
The dagger was forced from his grasp, and his blows were knocked aside, one after the other. Something nicked his chest.
Aelia pulled back, chest heaving. Keeran dropped his chin, not believing what he was seeing.
She’d cut him, the edges of the small tear in the fabric darkening with his blood.
He stepped forwards until he was close enough to see her pulse bounding at the base of her throat. The satisfaction in her eyes melted into apprehension as he leant into her, lowering his face until his cheek was mere inches from hers.
“Perfect,” he said, his voice low and sinister. “If I see anything less in the future, you will find yourself on the floor until you give me everything. Do you understand?”
He watched her throat move as she swallowed, her lips parting as her breath hitched, but this time, he didn’t think it was from fear. He shoved the thought aside.
“Yes,” she whispered.
He placed a hand on her shoulder as he passed, just a momentary touch, but he hoped it conveyed what words could not.
He couldn’t actually apologise, not when he was prepared to push her that hard again tomorrow if it kept her safe.
Nor could he express the pride he felt, not when he had no right to feel it.
So he hoped something of what he felt came across in that simple touch before he left her looking down at the dagger in her hands.