His deep, resonant voice seemed to rumble through me.
“I’ll need to find another weakness,” I said, then realized that while I hadn’t wanted to be watched in the arena,Ishould spend time in there, watching the other unclaimed recruits. I could find their weakness.
Too late, I realized I’d implied that he had a weakness. His interest in me.
But how long could that last? The inhumanly beautiful Fae pining away over my round mortal face or short, curvy body. My appeal to him must be novelty.
“You need to carry a weapon to give you a fighting chance, little dragon.”
I leveled him with a look. “Don’t call melittle. It’s fucking weird.”
“You are exceptionally petite.” His perpetual amusement with me made it feel like I was a joke where only he knew the punchline. There was something about the way he smirked that was fond, knowing, and murder-worthy all at once.
“Ander calls me by my name,” I said, with casual savagery.
His jaw flexed with irritation. “All right,Cara.Can I teach you to stay alive now, or did you want to scold me some more?”
Gods, did I love it when I broke his untouchable façade in even the slightest way. “Teach me.”
Fieran touched his shoulder, and his sword appeared at his back in a glow of gold. The long scabbard he wore at his hip blinked back into existence too, and there were two more scabbards strapped to his thighs. Throwing knives, hidden until now, lined the bracers on his forearms.
He looked, I had to admit, fearsome and maybe a touch awe-inspiring.
“Do you carry all that because you don’t trust anyone, or because you just like to jingle when you walk?”
His mouth curved, faint and dangerous. “Try to take one off me. Start with the easy ones.”
There was no such thing aseasywhen he was watching me. His gold-rimmed eyes tracked every breath, every hesitation.
I lunged for the knife at his hip, but he caught my wrist. His fingersslid over my palm and twined our fingers together, pulling my hand up between us. A fragment of memory flared to life—had Fieran joined our hands together once before like this?—but then dissipated like smoke.
“Shout your moves ahead like that if you want to die,” he told me pleasantly. “The way you looked at that blade, you might as well have told me you were going for it.”
He didn’t release my hand. Instead, he stepped closer, his fingers trailing down my wrist until he guided my hand back to the dagger. His body brushed mine. He didn’t seem to notice, but every one of my nerves lit up like fireflies.
“Again,” he murmured.
I inhaled through my teeth and tried, this time shifting my weight before reaching. I managed to get the dagger halfway out of its sheath before he twisted, catching me against his chest, the weapon trapped between us.
“Better.” His breath stirred my hair. “But you hesitated.”
“I was distracted,” I shot back, glaring up at him.
His grin was slow and unbearably smug. “By what?”
“Your arrogance. Gods, if your ego were a weapon, you’d rule us all.”
He laughed, the sound unguarded, and traitorous warmth bloomed across my cheeks. He plucked the dagger from my hand as he released me and set it down. “One down.”
“How many do you have?”
“Enough to make this fun.”
I lunged. He sidestepped. The motion was effortless, like smoke rising. My hand closed on his forearm instead, and for a heartbeat, I was too aware of the heat of his skin and the corded muscle beneath it.
He pivoted, catching my arm and pinning it behind my back. “Faster,Cara.”
There was something about the way he said my name, soft and intimate, that made me wish for the return of irritating nicknames.
