My thrilled delight sputters out.
Not the response I hoped for.
“One hour, every day.” He holds my stare, unflinching.
And it’s the kind of stare meant to melt through all my carefully constructed walls. I smother the rising groan in my throat. It’s damn near sinister the way he can slither past everything I am and curl himself around my most vulnerable self. Ryc is this shining light, exposing the darkened parts of me I’ve kept locked away to survive. He bares them and somehow bears no judgment.
I’ll never understand it.
“Fine.” I drawl the word, my tone laden with reluctance. “One hour, Ryc.”
He flashes me a dizzying smile and the sparkling shimmer of victory—hisvictory—resonates in my chest.
This godsdamned fae…
Already I’m regretting my agreement.
A clap of thunder echoes through the skies and resonates in my chest as Ryc pulls himself to a stand. He offers me his hand, and I’m reminded of a bloodied battlefield centuriesago.
“One hour, rain or shine, little death,” he says with a triumphant grin.
Of coursehewould know to be explicit in his terms.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Sore, soaked, batteredand bruised, I peel myself out of my clinging, wet clothing and wring the drenched layers over the tub. As I drape them on an empty towel rack, my gaze travels through the window. Eve and Cyran have claimed the north lawn following my lesson with Ryc despite the heavy downpour of rain.
They dance—dodging, striking, weaving, whirling. Both moving with the expected speed and flourish of the fae, neither as fast as Ryc, but Eve significantly faster than Cyran. She skirts his advances effortlessly, but he—the ever towering stalwart of a creature he is—deflects every returned assault with measured strength and control.
It’s a skilled dance, the way fae fight.
There’s norawness, noneed, nodesperation.
They’re not trying to survive. Only hone. It’s too controlled, too flawless and pristine. It’s a game to them, a means to fan their feathers and demand attention.
I’ve spent too many nights trapped with Kassil for combat to ever be a game. I’ve faced too many Life Bringers who didn’t think twice about returning me to the hells. When I fight, it’s for survival. To avoid punishment for failure. It’s messy and boundaries are blurred. There’s no honor, respect, or tact involved.
When it comes to it, I will never hesitate to do what I must to survive.
I heave a tired sigh, turning on the water to the tub.
Despite my reluctance to the idea, I have to admit, I learned a number of things today with Ryc.
First, he’s fast.
Faster than he has any right being considering his size.
Speed was one of the few things I had over the majority of demons. Their hulking frames too slow to land most blows against me.
But Ryc… he’s somehow faster than me.
Considerably faster.
His blinding speed left me reeling more often than I’d care to admit.
And while I’ve no innate, nor formal combat training, I still fought Ryc with everything I had. It wasn’t enough. He bested me at every turn. Yet another pride-tarnishing defeat to aLife Bringerunder my belt.
Second, another surprising facet, Ryc is an excellent tutor.
