He places his hands at his chin and comes at me again. A swift combination of punches. One clips me in the shoulder, jarring me back. His cocky expression fuels me. Enough playing.
I advance, striking out with a kick to his thigh. Not expecting the blow, he strays from his stance. I hit his fist away with an open smack, then jump up. My foot connects with his upper arm, and I climb up onto his neck.
My thighs press into his neck, giving me a sturdy purchase. I choke the breath out of him. He swats at my thighs, but they’re much stronger than they look. I hold his head still with the palms of my hands.
He’s furious, spinning us in a circle, but I hold on. I can feel the exact moment when he’s about to fall. His hands collapse at his side, and his body tips forward. I push off his shoulders to land next to him.
Silence greets me as I turn and wait for Donaas to call it. “He’s out. I win?”
“Um… yes. You win,” he mumbles, watching Umbra for a reaction, but all she’s doing is standing there with a smug expression.
“My turn,” she says, grabbing two practice swords from the stand and meeting me at the mat.
I take one from her, twirling it around, getting a feel for balance. It’s a little heavier than Hubris, but it will do.
“Rules?” I question again.
“Till the first blood. Everything goes.”
Anticipation thrums through me. “My kind of fight.”
“Prepare yourself, assassin. I’m not Severn.”
She takes her stance, her body easily falling into the position. Raising her sword, she stands at the ready. I mirror her actions, waiting for the coming blow.
She strikes, sword swinging precisely where she intended. I block it, then spin to counter her next attack. We continue to dance around the training room, the only sounds our swords clashing. The onlookers don’t dare make a sound.
Sweat pours down my back, the movements stretching muscles. I haven’t had a worthy opponent besides Nox and Uriel in a long time. I smile at the thought of doing this every day. Having a family to train with.
Our swords clash together, and we’re both face to face. “Give it up,” Umbra exhales. Her hair is plastered against her forehead with sweat.
“I’m not the give-it-up kind of girl. You said till first blood.”
“Have it your way.” She pushes me back with such force that I stumble backward, almost landing on my ass.
Her magic whips out, strong black smoke taking over her entire body. Glowing with the silver of a Dark Demon, her eyes flash. I bounce up with renewed energy. I’ve waited so long for this.
She tries to grab the sword from my hand, but I counter it with the purple hue of my own. Its golden sparkles make it look like something a four-year-old would want, but it’s as deadly as her black smoke.
Our magics crash together, making us both grit our teeth. I can’t hold my sword and control the magic. It falls to the floor with a bang.
Using both of my hands, I try to wrap her magic with my own, claiming it and sending it back to her. It’s harder than it looks. Her magic is so strong.
I try a different tactic. I create a separate tendril, small enough not to be noticed but powerful enough to cause first blood. It snakes along the ground as I keep the rest of her magic back with both hands.
When my shadow smoke reaches her feet, I raise it off the ground like a whip and whirl it down on her arm. She screams, blood pooling from the tiny cut. Her smoke recedes, and I pull mine back.
I’m spent, all the energy taken from me. Plopping on the mat and lean back. That was exhausting and thrilling.
“You did good,” she says, coming over and giving me a hand up. “I didn’t think you’d be this strong. You’re a formidable opponent. I’m happy to call you family.”
I release her hand, clearing my throat. “Thank you. It was great sparing with you.”
She smiles and walks off, collecting Donaas as she goes. The rest of the trainees stand around stunned. Severin looks like he’s about to be sick.
I give them a salute, following the pair out the door. Seems I’ve just proven myself to some of the Dark.
Nine
TORQUE
I watch her from the doorway of the training room. The way she moves and fights stirs something inside me that I haven’t felt in a long while.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, stopping to study me for a moment.
“I wanted to see you fight.” It’s a half-truth.
“Satisfied? Seems like everyone is taking my measure today.” She brushes past me, but I grab her arm. She glances at the connection before meeting my eyes.
“I didn’t mean it that way. I’ve seen you fight; we’ve fought. I wanted to see you move. It’s addicting—your dance of death.”
Gently pulling her closer to me, I drop her arm. I pick up a loose piece of hair from her bun, then slip it behind her ear. Holding my hand on the side of her head, I guide her face up to mine.
“What are you doing?” she exhales. Her feet shuffle closer, and I place my other hand on her hip.
“Kissing you.” I place my lips on hers slowly, waiting for her to pull away. When she doesn’t, I press harder and lick the seam of her lips. She opens for me, reaching up on tiptoes to press herself closer to me.
She makes a surprised noise once my tongue touches hers. The bond closes more, fueling my desire. She’s so beautiful, so consuming. I want to suspend this moment for a long time.
“Torque,” she moans, pulling away and staring into my eyes. “We can’t.”
“You’re stubborn, little witch.” I smile, stroking her hair and keeping her still in my arms for a little longer.
“I’m right.” She pushes off me, then
