He tried not to let the exertion show, but she was relentless.
“You will not take me again,” she said through clenched teeth as she used her strength to force him away from her, aiming another blast of magic.
Her words chipped away at him. Through her ferocity he saw the fear that lay beneath, urging her on. He had done that to her. She wasdescending into the nightmares she relived every night, and he only knew of one way to yank her back to the present.
His smile was taunting. “Oh, I believe there will be a time when you’ll ask me to take you,” he said, attempting to break through her hatred. Their swords clashed in front of them and the lightning that flashed overhead reflected in her eyes.
He clenched his jaw when her face contorted in disgust.
“If you think I will let you touch me after this, you are sorely mistaken.”
His magic surged through his veins, and she sucked in a breath like she could feel the power filling him. Her stuttered reaction gave him an opening, if only a small one.
“Don’t you see, Sol? Your magic responds to me. I am not a threat to you,” he insisted.
Her laugh was cruel and wicked. The light in her eyes turned to shadows and darkness. She became someone he didn’t recognize as she said, “You have no idea what kind of power lies in my veins, Prince.”
His Fae instincts rose to the threat in her words. “You might be powerful, General, but you’re one person,” he hissed. “I have an entire army at my disposal if I so wish.” Not that he would send the Riddari after her.
“Then why would you need my help?” she taunted.
A growl rumbled in his chest. “Because your queen’s ancestors stole what was ours, and in doing so, left our people to rot.” Spit flew from his mouth as he rose to her bait.
“Your arrogance is what has destroyed your people. You have no one to blame but yourselves. And Ragnvald,” she added as an afterthought.
She shoved him away before throwing another bolt of light. He dodged it, rolling onto the ground and springing back to his feet in one smooth motion.
The witch prowled towards him, and when she struck, he was prepared. He brought his sword up to block her magic but instead suffered a swift kick to the abdomen.
“Your weakness is your inability to see what is right in front of you.”
If he didn’t know better, he could’ve sworn her voice cracked.
“And your weakness is your inability to trust,” he said through gritted teeth as he sucked in a painful breath.
He slashed, and this time, she wasn’t quick enough. The blade caught her arm, drawing blood. She growled, the sound calming the storm in his soul.
His canines elongated at her ferocity, the scent of her blood fogging his senses. The Elven ancestry in his Fae blood roared, that instinctive part of him rising to claim her.
“You call Vanir barbarians, but you are the animals,” she accused, noting the change in him. He was baring his teeth, ready to lunge. To take, to taste. Heneededher.
He was solely focused on the throbbing pulse in her neck. The only thoughts running through his mind were of her pinned beneath him.
A snarl he didn’t recognize erupted from his chest at the accusation. “An animal, am I? Then why are you the one caged?” As soon as the words were out, he regretted them.
She stilled. Cold, unadulterated hatred filled her features.
“I got out.”
He wished she’d shouted, for her soft voice didn’t match the vitriol of her expression, of the words.
“You are in a cage of your own making,” he said, igniting that last ember in her veins. He would take her anger, let her unleash herself on him if that’s what she needed. It wasn’t as though she would forgive him after this. He might as well take this as penance.
“I got out!” she yelled with a blast of her magic. It caught his shoulder, knocking him flat on his ass, a burning pain searing his skin.
Getting to his feet was a challenge, but he made the effort, waving off Noren’s attempt to help.
“Did you, though? It seems to me your mind has kept you imprisoned,” he said, dodging another attack of her magic-imbued blade.
