“Ah yes, I remember those beauties,” he sighs dreamily. “You were not claimed then, though.”
“I am not claimed now, either!” I hiss, annoyance perking up its ugly head from deep within me. So, his sudden modest demeanor has everything to do with a certain brooding Vampire King.
“Sure, sure, keep telling yourself that, princess,” Blaise answers in his insufferable singsong voice. “Besides, you’re like a little sister to me now. I don’t want to see your boobies!”
I spit out the mouthful of water I was just drinking.
“Do you have a habit of being brazenly lewd with all your sisters, then?” His eyes turn downcast, and I can taste the heavily booted foot I masterfully just inserted into my mouth.
“As of a very long time ago, I don’t have any other little sisters. Not anymore. You’d be the first one since my turning,” he murmurs, a look of blood-soaked melancholy passing through his gaze.
“Please forgive me, Blaise. I didn’t mean to be a thoughtless wench.” I lean into his side, our arms brushing.
“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.” He bumps my shoulder gently.
“No, but I do feel guilty by proxy. I’m still wrapping my mind around the centuries of atrocities committed by my kind.” My voice turns sorrowful as fleeting thoughts of what actually happened throughout Imiryion’s history pass through my head.
“What’s done is done,” he says, rising from the bench. “No reason to dwell on it now. Come, put those bad girls away before you get me into trouble, and let’s continue our training.”
I stand up, shimmying back into the leather bodice. “What’s next?”
“Dagger play.” He wiggles his eyebrows conspiratorially. “My favorite.”
Turns out I’m utter shit at throwing daggers at vampires, too.
Blaise handed me a dozen smooth, obsidian-hilted blades, and I was so cocky for about two full minutes. I’m well versed in targeting a standing enemy, or even a moving Fae, sluggish as they are compared to these creatures. I made it my devout mission to master a blade as soon as I escaped that hellhole I used to call home. It gave me a false sense of security, that if Aurora ever tried to sink her wicked clutches into me again, I could fight my way out of anything.
Oh, how wrong I was!
Blaise laughed boisterously at my smug show of skills, throwing three daggers on top of each other, sinking deeply into the far wall, between two heavy shields.
“That’s a neat parlor trick, princess, but can you aim and hit a target moving at blinding speed?”
He proceeded to run around the training hall so fast that I couldn’t discern even one of his limbs. I kept throwing daggers blindly to spots that he previously occupied, while he cackled gleefully, taunting me, goading me, until I screamed in frustration.
This violent cat-and-mouse game continued for more than one hour, leaving me panting like a bitch in heat, while Blaise didn’t break out in sweat at all.
“It’s settled then,” I wheeze painfully, “I’m downright useless. A fuckingliability.”
Blaise pats me gently on the shoulder, but the gesture sits heavy on my weary bones.
“Now, now, Aimee. Don’t be so harsh on yourself. It’s just the first day. You’ll get better at it, I promise. You havemeas a teacher, after all.” He offers with a self-contented smile.
I roll my shoulders tiredly. My entire body is screaming in protest, every muscle, every tendon taut, like a snapping strand of frail hair under the gigantic weight of a jumping mammoth.
“Come now.” Blaise slowly tugs me forward towards the exit. “I’ll walk you back to your room. You need rest.”
“Still suspicious that I would run away? I’m entirely too exhausted for that,” I clap back at him out of habit.
“More like worried that you’dfaintin public, and Killian would have me strung from the ceiling for the next decade. I’ve seen him doing it to prisoners, and it’s not a pretty sight, believe me.”
Gods, it hurts like hell to laugh right now, but I still try, the sound resembling the mewl of a strangled kitten. So, that’s where Blaise’s nickname for me comes from. Go figure!
“Are you really that afraid of your King?” I ask.
“Not afraid at all, kitty cat. Respectful. And maybe a little weary. We’re possessive, jealous heathens. It’s better not to geton our bad side when it comes to the object of our desires.” He winks at me jokingly.
“Like Leilah, then.” I say, gauging his reaction. My curiosity gets the better of me, and I’m dying for some inside scoop.
