He was halfway back around the circle when he charged. I held my stance, meeting his first blow with an offensive of myown. But he seemed to expect that and swiped with his other fist even while I held off the hand holding the blade.
I dodged backward, which gave him space to bear down with the curved knife again. Fuck. I swerved to the side?—
The entire world slid sideways, my feet churning in a deep divot that had been covered by a bed of pine needles. Garrick stepped back, letting me flounder around to find my feet again.
“First lesson—use the terrain to your advantage.”
I was going to fucking kill him.
Garrick the Red. Renowned bounty hunter. Half-fae bastard.
I was going to kill him, and I would fucking enjoy it.
“You knew the hole was there,” I growled, like an animal. That’s what this man turned me into—a feral beast. A pit viper ready to strike. One of the atrocities that lived deep in the very mountains he insisted we traipse through.
“Of course I did,” he said. “Second lesson—know the terrain better than your opponent.”
Which he did, because I’d given him the time to reconnoiter it while he walked in literal circles around me. I gritted my teeth and sprang forward before he could.
He was ready for me, catching the downward swing of my knife against his own. I tried to replicate the maneuver he’d used against me moments before, swinging my other fist at his stomach. But I was weaker with my left hand than my right and he did not even react to the blow.
He caught my left hand, encircling my fist with his hand, and twisted. My body bowed with the pain, twisting with my arm to try and relieve it. Garrick hooked his other arm around my neck. With one swift movement, he had me pinned against him, my back flush with his chest. My knife was still in my hand, but it was useless.
I struggled against him, but that was useless, too. A low, self-satisfied chuckle caressed my exposed neck. I forced myself to bestill so he could not enjoy my struggling, and so that I could try to break down the series of maneuvers that Garrick had used to get me there.
But thinking analytically was next to impossible with my body pressed up against his.
Garrick was as hot as I was. Hotter, maybe. I wore multiple layers of wool and leather, but I could feel the spot where his hand gripped my forearm like a brand. Except that it was a pleasant heat, a heat that ignited an answer low in my stomach.
He leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Third lesson—use what you know about your attacker.”
The ice in my chest from earlier melted. My entire body was liquid.
“And what is it you think you know about me?” I gasped out.
“I know all sorts of things about you.” He leaned in lower until his mouth was at the delicate intersection of my ear and my neck. “Witch.”
Dark Lord, save me. On his lips, it did sound like an endearment. The kind that was whispered in darkened bed chambers between lovers.
I jerked out of his grasp. He could have held me in place if he’d wanted, but he let me go. I spun, wary to expose my back, and retreated quickly until there were several steps between us.
Garrick tracked every movement with those infernal glowing eyes.
“You should train with your left hand, as well.”
“Maybe I should get better at my right hand, instead of being painfully incompetent with both.”
A bead of sweat rolled down his temple, catching on the half-moon scar on the outside of his right eye before sliding the rest of the way to his jaw. I wanted to trace that exact path with my tongue. I wanted to be the one to make him quiver, to have theadvantage over him just once. What would it feel like, to have power over Garrick the Red?
More intoxicating than any wine or liquor.
But allowing myself to give in, even if he wanted it, was dangerous. Foolish. He was my Lifebind. If Xyta had proved anything, it was the mercurial nature of the gods. The Goddess of Mercy might never consider the debt between Garrick and me satisfied. We might be stuck together through all seven gates. Or until one of us died. Or both.
As much as I hated to admit it—and certainly wouldn’t to him—Garrick was right. I needed to learn to defend myself better. I no longer had a coven to protect me, nor the safety of the coven lands. Thus far, my power had remained strong. But when it began to fade, I needed to know how to wield the daggers in my belt for more than just slicing food.
I shifted my stance and threw myself into my next attack.
I was terrible,and it was not just the exhaustion. Even as I got better at anticipating his next move, I was not adept enough to avoid it. And for every parry or spin I did anticipate, he revealed another. Garrick’s well of fighting tactics seemed to be endless.
