Page 163 of Ravenrose

I catch her, shoving her back against the wall. She doesn’t have a chance to recover before I’m on her, trapping both wrists this time and forcing them over her head, pinning them there.

She struggles in my hold and I smile, caging her in with my body.

“Yield,” I order as she continues to fight.

Rowan goes completely still, her eyes darting up to meet mine. “Or what?”

I tighten my grip instinctively as her gaze drops from my eyes to my mouth, and heat coils low in my stomach as a few ideas come to mind.

“Ayer,” she breathes, slowly lifting up on her toes, leaning in closer, “you’re forgetting one thing.”

“What’s that?” I ask, my eyes dropping to her mouth.

“I wanted you close.”

I see the smile, but it’s too late. Rowan drives her knee upward with brutal efficiency, right into my crotch.

I curse, staggering backward, allowing Rowan to slip free. Theo cackles at my back as she breezes by.

I straighten slowly, glaring murder at her while the pain slowly ebbs away. “You fight dirty.”

“I did tell you…” She grins when I narrow my eyes. “Watch out for the thorns.”

Chapter 67

ROWAN

Ayer doesn’t get the chance to respond, his dark eyes locked on mine when chaos erupts.

“Raiders!” The shouts cut through the courtyard like a knife.

Men race across the battlements overhead, some already feverishly loosing arrows into the dark beyond the gates.

Wood splinters and metal crashes right before the gates break.

Ayer’s by my side in an instant, catching the blade Theo tosses at him. Wyatt and Hayes at our back.

The sound of steel on steel rings out as the raiders meet the fort’s guard. Seems like the two fae raiders who escaped the village are back for revenge—and they’ve brought friends.

“Theo and Hayes, you’re with me. Wyatt, take Rowan up to my room.”

“No—”

Ayer cuts me off with a hard look. “Rowan, go with Wyatt. That’s an order.”

Wyatt attempts to grab hold of my arm, tugging me back toward the barracks, but I dig my heels in, ripping my arm out of his grasp.

“I’m not hiding in your room while everyone else fights.”

Ayer turns toward me so fast I almost flinch.

Almost.

He stops, his face mere inches from mine.

“You’ve been training for hours,” he snaps. “And you’re still wounded.” He jabs a thumb into my ribs to prove his point, forcing me to cry out. “Go. Now.”

His words sting, but not as much as his lack of faith in me. Didn’t I just prove myself in the training circle?