Her chest heaved in a futile attempt to catch up with her racing heart. Her eyes flew wide as she stumbled over her words. “That… you… you scared me.” She admitted. “I thought…” She didn’t need to say the rest. She could see in his eyes he knew damn well what he’d done.
“Good. Then you’re learning.” His stare did not waver. “In the upcoming trials, there’s going to be a target on your back. You’re going to be pitted against trained men at arms and hardened criminals. All men, to the best of my knowledge. It’s going to take more than a pretty face and a smart mouth to survive.”
Slaide leaned in closer to her as the air filled with tension, as raw and electric as lightning. His hand lifted, hovering at her jaw. When his fingers brushed her skin, an unfamiliar charge zipped through her body, pooling in her core.
Their faces were inches apart. Hazel could see the many shades of yellow, marigold, and orange combined to form his impossibly amber eyes. Eyes that dipped to her lips for a split second. Eyes that drew her in.
The storm cracked above them, a warning that the sky would soon be torn asunder. Hazel’s breath caught in her throat.
“You’re such a bastard.” Her voice came out thick and low.
Slaide reached out and tucked a sopping wet curl behind her ear. “Oh, I most definitely am. But you like that about me.”
She wanted to laugh, to roll her eyes, or spit back some witty retort. But her mind was erased by the weight of his gaze. His touch. Their faces were ungodly close. As her eyes flitted to his lips, a question formed in the back of her mind— curiosity. One she wasnotready to give life to.
The corner of his lips twitched, and he pulled back.
Hazel blinked, trance broken.
Slaide stood abruptly, smirking down at her, but his eyes were heavy with something Hazel couldn’t name. It made her insides twist, her cheeks flush.
Fucking Hel, Hazel,she scolded herself. “You’re an ass and an idiot. I’m done here.” The rain was subsiding. She could probably—maybe—make her way back.
His smirk turned down ever so slightly. “Listen here, sweets. I’ve told you before there are forces at play far beyond your understanding. Beyond mine even. In case you haven’t noticed, I am the only person here willing to save your ass, so the least you could do is cooperate. You need me more than you realize.”
She blanched, and something escaped her mouth resembling a scoff. “Save me?Saveme? Is that what you think you’re doing? I didn’t ask to go to some ball with you, and I certainly wouldn’t have thrown myself into this tournament. I didn’t ask to besaved. What I need is to get back to my home. My life.”
“That’s not happening, so the sooner you get over it the better.” He eyed the practice sword on the ground. “Tell you what. Let’s try a different approach. You’ve got the violent part down, but I’m not sure you’re ready for swordplay.” He brought forth the dagger again and offered it to her, hilt first.
Hazel hesitated but took the blade, contemplating throwing it at his head.Like we haven’t spent enough time sparring today?She was tired and completely drenched from the downpour. She wanted to plop herself before a roaring hearthfire with a mug of hot cider, and rest her aching bones.
“Do me a favor and keep in mind that is a real blade. So maybe try not to kill me just yet. I know it’s tempting.”
After what I just went through? No promises…
As though he could read her thoughts, he raised an eyebrow. “Right, well. First thing’s first. You’re not very tall. You’re not very strong. And you’re slow as shit. It’s unlikely you’re going to get a shot at your attacker’s throat when he’s coming at you, so you’re going to need to focus lower.”
Hazel watched in shock as he unbuttoned his shirt and let it hang open, revealing his solid, muscular chest that was tattooed solid black up to his neck. She knew she should look away, but she couldn’t. She simply stood there, transfixed.
Slaide took a step closer and grabbed her free hand, placing it on his chest. He cleared his throat. “Now—do you feel this?” he asked, placing her hand over his breastbone.
Hazel knew he wasn’t talking about the steady drum of his heart, but she could focus on nothing else.
“This bone is deceiving,” he continued, dragging her fingertips down his chest to the tip of the sternum, where the bone gave way to cartilage. “You’d think it ends there, but it actually ends below this spot, here.”
She knew she should be listening, but was distracted by the warm, tattooed skin over tight musculature beneath her fingers. This was without a doubt the strangestdancelesson she could have imagined, and she began to wonder what his motives were in all of this. He was certainly the most secretive person she’d ever met, if not the most temperamental.
Hazel registered that he’d stopped talking and was staring at her with the look of an exasperated parent. She was still standing there with her hand on his chest, gawking at him. Embarrassed, she moved to pull her hand away, but Slaide only tightened his grip.
“Focus.” No calling her out. No belittling her. Just a reminder.
She nodded, desperately wanting the heat to leave her cheeks and hoping the pink flush wasn’t noticeable in the moonlight.
“As I was saying, this soft piece here is tricky. It can be pierced, though with some difficulty, and even if you do manage to pierce someone here, you’re going to find yourself without a blade.” He moved her hand down to the left, tracing his ribs. “I’d also recommend you steer clear of the ribcage, but just in case, you should understand how they lie. Lots of folks think the ribs run perfectly side to side, but they don’t. The ribs run in a slight diagonal from the center of your chest. It’s important to keep in mind so you angle your blade correctly.”
She swallowed dryly.
“Your best bet, since you’re on the smaller side and inexperienced in combat, is going to be to insert the blade below the breastbone and ribcage. Even a well-muscled opponent such as myself has soft tissues there—below the hardened exterior.” He pressed her fingers against his muscular abdomen, feeling the stark change between bone and belly.
