CHAPTER 10 #2
Grace is right—we need the men out of their heads and not stewing in the madness of storming the castle tomorrow night. And if they don’t need it, I sure as fuck do.
I spiral down the stairs.
Striking a torch to life, I secure it in the wall holster and approach the long, leather-stuffed bag hanging from the ceiling and unclasp it to make room for a fighting ring in the center of our training facility. It’s not as spacious or epic as Mortifer, but it does the job in a pinch.
Boot stomps rumble down the stairs as the room fills with Hunters.
“I’m going first,” Grace announces, dragging a sword from the bin against the wall as Hunters position themselves around the room, leaning against the walls and getting comfortable to watch their Captain and their Heir go at each other.
I fell in love with Grace because of her undeniable beauty, her soft, fierce heart, and her untamed, extraordinary fighting talent. She’s fast and intelligent. Her skill and training always match mine.
Working hard to ignore my need to ravish the woman sauntering toward me, I warm up my shoulders.
I met Grace when we were fifteen and Master Hull finally let her into the training pens.
I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. We grew up in the caverns of Mortifer, learning and fighting together from that day onward.
And over a pint on my seventeenth birthday, I promised Grace that I would save Goreon and make it a place we would flourish in.
She rolled her eyes at me.
Grace tried to convince me our generation wouldn’t bring forth the revolution in any way other than bloodshed and more despair.
And I bet her that we’d be the ones to do it.
Then she laid into me about the peaceful future she envisioned, but that Hunters are incapable of putting vicious pride and bred brutality aside to accomplish it.
Three years later, I fell to my knees and proposed to the loveliest person I’d ever known, and I promised her that our dreams were aligned. That we would bring peace because we weren’t out for only revenge and short-sighted survival goals. Our vision spanned generations.
She didn’t roll her eyes that time.
Grace spins her blade of choice, her body lunging and dancing through movements as she warms herself in the brisk room, her breath billowing and her eyes alight with an energy that only emerges when she’s fighting. Those green eyes burn as they flick to me.
Gods, she’s breathtaking.
“Hunter Kade,” she coos, her smirk tipping toward her long lashes as she hits me with the most seductive glance over the edge of her sword.
“Wife,” I challenge. “How hard do you want to go?”
She laughs, and her eyes spark. “Might be our last time for a while.”
“So all in, then,” I tell her with a broad smile and then let my face fall into seriousness.
“Yes,” she growls.
I strip my shirt, shaking out the muscles in my arms as Gracie consumes me with her eyes, not giving a shit that we’re surrounded by others.
She quirks an eyebrow at me, and I shrug innocently, flexing my abs.
Grace laughs. “Gods bless, Kade. The distraction tactic is unfair.”
I blow her a kiss and release my most charming smile, only to be greeted by an eye roll and a groan as I yank a sword from the wall and set up across from her.
Grace lunges without warning, her sword nicking my belt, and Hunters cheer in response.
My eyes flick to hers.
Hunger looks back at me.
I scoff. “Are you trying to undress me in front of everyone?”
“You started it,” she deadpans and attacks as Hunters holler.
I push her back, but she doesn’t stumble; just like always, her nimble limbs carry her like a dancer across the floor.
“Come and get it, baby,” Grace purrs, skirting around me, and I spin to track her.
“Aye,” I promise with my sword thrusting, forcing her to dart left.
She swings her sword with no mercy, and I meet her, steel against steel, until we’re both heaving for air. Tossing her blade, her strength waning without magic, Grace snatches the whip from her belt and cracks it through the air at me.
My eyes narrow, and my arousal spikes. “Not in front of the boys, my love.” I duck away from the slashing leather, looking for an opening and catching her contagious, taunting grin.
Her whip snaps across my boots, and I dart for her, sweeping her legs before she lands another strike.
She hits the ground on her back but is already rolling away from my attack and springing from the floor. Grace collides with my body, the force of her lands me on my ass, and she straddles my lap, eyes fierce and wild.
My magic whirrs, and then pain rockets through me as Sam’s magic trembles against mine.
“Fuck!” I yell and catch Grace’s wrists, stilling her. Confusion crosses her face as my body contorts beneath her.
Rhett and Riot rush us.
“Is it Sam?” Rhett demands, worry etched in his eyes.
I nod, trying not to puke up my dinner.
My magic senses Sam’s, deciphering and listening, and I send him the most important message I can, not knowing how long I have with him.
We’ll be there tomorrow night.
And in response, his magic screams with warning before going dark again.