Chapter Twenty-seven
His harsh grip encircled the arm that shot out to strike him, snaking around the limb just above the elbow. She let out a startled cry as she was lifted and tossed, easily being thrown ten feet behind him. She skidded across the ground, leaving trenches in the trampled snow. Her wings burst out behind her, slowing her speed, but only slightly.
"Get up." Cassian delivered the order to the Illyrian female whose face was twisted up in a snarl.
Marcius stood outside the ring, a hoard of females off to his sides. Over two dozen pairs of eyes latched onto the training scenario before them. Marcius silently mouthed counters the female could use against Cassian, sucked in his breath when she failed.
The Illyrian female rose, her long and dirty body already bruising from what they had practiced thus far. Her wings were muddy, and she tossed a look back at them. The displeasure curled her top lip.
"You're being too obvious before you attack." He instructed, voice hard and assured. "You should look and strike at the same time, not look before. You're telling your opponent exactly what your next move is."
She gave a curt nod and lifted her fists. Cassian circled her, forcing her feet to move so that she could face him always. He was a beast, a predator stalking his prey. His hooded eyes gave nothing away as if to hammer in his point, and when he lashed out, no one, perhaps not even Marcius who had been trained for many years, saw it coming.
The female was forced to bend over as Cassian twisted her arm behind her, crooking her wrist towards her neck.
"I relent!" she cried out, and Cassian was instant in dropping her.
"He should give them a chance." Naya bit out, frustrated, and Marcius turned his dark eyes from his friend so that he could look at her.
"He's trying to teach them." He countered.
She tried to shrug nonchalantly so that he didn't see how annoyed she really was. She wasn't even sure if the irritation was aimed fully at Cassian, but the target felt easier than a certain Illyrian who constantly left her in a state of confusion and sexual frustration.
He was kind to her, had been since he'd found her, gave her friendship and something more when he touched her in ways she'd never been touched before. So, why had he left her last night?
She knew it had to be about what she'd said, that he was drawing some invisible line between them that she wasn't allowed to cross. He would be her friend. He would give her companionship and someone to talk to if she needed it, but he was so bent on feeling undeserving, blackened, as he'd said, that he was sending a message that could pierce her heart and bleed her dry.
Sex, only. Feelings were off limits.
Fine.
"What if they get discouraged?" she shot back, returning her attention to Marcius, and she tried to ignore that the question held more meaning that she'd intended.
He raised a dark brow, too receptive to what she was doing a shit job at hiding.
"What if it makes them work harder?"
"Maybe you and Cassian should do more of the work."
"Explain."
She tossed her hair over her shoulder haughtily. "I'm just saying if Cassian keeps knocking them down every time they get close, they may stop trying. Perhaps he should work on bettering himself as a trainer and give them more opportunities to prove they can handle it."
Marcius stared at her for several moments, a calculating expression shadowing his dark face.
"Okay, what's going on?"
"Nothing." She snapped immediately before pointing to the ring. "Can anyone give it a shot?"
She didn't know what she was doing. It was anger, and anger alone that was carrying her feet forward without waiting for Marcius' response. She bent between the fence posts, under the heavy logs that made up the ring and faced off Cassian. Her boots hit the mud one after the other, squishing solid footprints in her wake as she strode towards him.
"What are you doing?" He asked quietly enough that only they could hear.
She swung, her fist curving towards him in a maneuver that was wholly unpracticed and unskilled. He bobbed to the left, dancing on quick feet to dodge her blow. She threw the second punch before her first was even finished. He sidestepped that one too.
"Naya?" his own hands had come up defensively, fists raised, thumbs left untucked. She noticed that and quickly untucked her own.
"What does it look like I'm doing?" she asked, and she swung a third time.
He caught her wrist and yanked, sending her around him with a shove from his other hand. She stumbled away several feet before righting herself enough to face him again.
"Not much." He replied honestly, and she scowled.
The distance between them wasn't much. She thought of what he had said to the other Illyrian female, about keeping her eyes from giving her away. She could close the space between them in two steps.
"Only because I wasn't trained. None of us were." She bit back. "We weren't granted the years you were."
She ripped forward, ducking out from under the grabbing hand she knew would come, letting herself fall backwards to catch herself on her elbows. She didn't mind that the ground was freezing, or that the maneuver let the ice chips cut at her elbows. She shot a leg out and swiped, hitting the target she'd intended: Cassian's ankles. His weight was knocked out from under him and he fell, he actually fell!
The pure satisfaction she felt only greatened when his body made an audible thud as he landed clean on his back.
"Yes!" She couldn't help but shout as she stood.
Movement caught her eye, and she looked away, only for a moment to her audience. Marcius was leaning forward, forearms resting on the fencing. He lifted his arm in a faux toast and smiled.
Some of the females had also taken a few steps forward, attention rapt on the fight. She hadn't meant to be a spectacle, but even she was proud of the small accomplishment.
"Is that how it's going to be?" Cassian was on his feet again, and she was quick in returning her gaze to him. He shook out his mighty wings, the claws at the apex of each striking out at the air, deadly, natural weapons at his disposal.
She had gotten lucky. She wasn't a fool. This male was a trained killer, a warrior who had fought in real wars, had caused real destruction, and now he was looking at her with a challenge in his hazel eyes that would have her cowering if she didn't have so much rage locked inside.
"I just thought it was time for you to end up on your ass a time or two." The cockiness in her voice wasn't her own. She didn't know who it belonged to. She certainly hadn't earned the right to it.
Still, she had landed that trained warrior on his back. She had.
"Oh, yeah?" he took a menacing step forward that had her stepping back, a move meant to intimidate her. "Is something I'm doing pissing you off, Naya?"
He grabbed out at her, but she jumped to the side, sidestepping his reaching fingers by mere centimeters.
"No." she answered hotly.
She held her wrists at chin level, letting her fists cover most of her face. She watched him through the gap between, eyes trained on his every movement, no matter how small.
When he reached again, she knocked his hand out of the way, using her forearm to sweep it to the side with as much force as she could muster. His chest was left open and exposed. She thought to kick out, worried too much about losing her balance if she tried, and the moment passed, taking her opportunity with it.
He knew what she'd been thinking, made it clear by glancing down at her legs and then taunting her with a smile. He took another step towards her, forcing her retreat.
She knew she couldn't win this. It had never even been an option. Mostly, she had just wanted to hit something, still did.
She tried to imitate him, tried to be threatening as she stepped towards him as he'd done. The only problem was that he didn't seem to mind at all, didn't step back as she had, and now they were even closer than they'd been.
She gulped, and thought about how it had tasted to swallow blood the last time she'd been in a ring.
"Not a good idea, that one."
She wondered if he'd been in her head, realized it was impossible, and understood he meant her bringing herself closer.
She jumped back immediately, and he chuckled.
Even though it was obviously in good fun on his part, it angered her further.
"You're not even trying." She accused, and when he shrugged, unfazed, she lunged at him, swinging her fists wildly.
She landed several, very unimpressive hits to his sides and chests that didn't seem to cause him any of the pain she'd intended before he shoved her back, hard.
Mercifully, she didn't lose her footing, and remained upright.
"Kick him in the balls!" The suggestion was shouted from the sidelines and when she turned to Marcius' lewd suggestion, she caught sight of Azriel.
He had joined the audience.
The females had made a wide space around him, leaving him adequate room to stretch his shadows, to give him a clear, undisturbed view of the ring. He didn't seem bothered that they'd done it out of fear.
"Eyes over here." Cassian barked, and she obeyed.
She hadn't seen Azriel since he'd left her, naked and alone in the tub he'd fingered her in. The reminder only fueled her anger, and instead of the normal, pooling heat that warmed her at the sight of Azriel, there was a wildfire.
Cassian leapt out of the way of the blow she tried to deliver.
Stupid, insufferable Illyrian. Stupid, ridiculous female. She should have never mentioned the damn pull.
He jutted out a wing, using its wide expanse to block her view of him before he ripped it back in time for her to feel, rather than see, his fist extend out and connect with her stomach.
It hurt enough to knock the breath from her lungs, but not so much that she believed he truly meant her harm.
Stop. Strike. Trying. Jab. To. Strike. Protect. Jab. Me!
Cassian's eyes went wide when her anger drove her forward. He had deflected each blow with carefully, honed defense but the last one had come too quick, or maybe too strong. Her fist knocked into his jaw with enough force that his head whipped to the side.
His fingers curled around his cheek, and he rubbed the spot that was quickly turning red. His eyes snapped to her face, and the humor was gone. In its place was a question. He knew he had misjudged the gravity of the situation, but he didn't know what the situation was.
She wasn't going to tell him.
He wasn't angry as he stalked towards her, though she wouldn't blame him if he was, only determined, and she knew this is where he intended to end the lesson.
She braced herself for his attack, planting her feet shoulder width apart. She bent her knees slightly, and when his fist rounded towards her, she leapt, engaging the muscles in her back to carry her into the sky.
It was instinct, the same instinct that had her turning sideways through doors that couldn't fit her wings, even though they could easily fit a Fae, the one that had her rolling her shoulders in the morning to bring relief to the heavy weight of them.
The only thing was, they were gone, had been for long enough she should remember their absence even in moments like these.
The fall back to the earth was so quick and so slow all at once. She had enough time to realize her mistake, to feel the emotional blow that always came when she had to think of the sawed-off nubs on her back, and then to be hit with Cassian's fist.
It was not as restrained as the others had been, and when the punch hit her hard in the side, she crumbled. Maybe more from embarrassment than from actual pain.
She didn't feel like getting up, didn't want to be the strong person who could always find their way back to their feet. She wanted to mourn, to scream and cry, and hate herself until one day she didn't anymore.
But she couldn't, wouldn't because that meant she would have to face what she now was, what she had truly lost.
And she just wasn't ready.
Cassian lowered a hand to help her to her feet, and she took the peace offering immediately so as not to cause a scene. His callused fingers were warm around her own, and he pulled her easily to stand.
"Good fight." He said cautiously, testing the waters she had made clear were turbulent.
She gave him a small smile that was as fake as her strength. "You too."
He used his grip on her hand to pull her closer as his voice dropped down to a whisper. "Are you alright?"
She hesitated, glancing over her shoulder at the shadowsinger who was, in part, reason for some of the pain she felt, and shrugged. "Never better."
