Page 27 of The River of Hatred

“What do you say?” Sariel’s question interrupts my fixation with our female companion. Judging by the mirth in his eyes, he caught me gazing at her.

I frown at him, feeling skeptical. “Should we risk injury while on a mission?”

The Fallen winks at me. “You didn’t seem to care about that when you were pounding me the other day.”

Jess chokes on a bite of her food as I gasp. This innuendo I understood.

“Stop,” I whisper. They’re overwhelming – it seems that feeling alive comes with a high risk of overstimulation. “Fine, let’s spar.”

I get to my feet and move to a flat, clear area, far enough from the firepit that we don’t run the risk of injuring Jess, close enough that she doesn’t have to leave its warmth to observe. Sariel joins me, a smirk on his face, his hand gripping the haft of his double-bladed axe. As I pull out my greatsword, he rests his weapon on his shoulder, the pose deliberately casual, as if he’s telling me he doesn’t consider me and my sword a threat. In return, I throw my greatsword from hand to hand, as casually as if it were a dagger.

Sariel scoffs. “Are you compensating for something with that oversized blade?”

I feel my lips stretch into a smile. “Says the male who hides behind two edges. Afraid one won’t get the job done?”

The Fallen doesn’t rise to my bait. Instead, his smile softens right before he lunges, the weight of his axe a blur as it arcs toward my ribcage. As I pivot on my heels and aim my sword to meet the blow, the sound of metal against metal screeches through the Malebolge’s silence.

“You’re sloppy,” I murmur, twisting my blade in a movement that has Sariel stumbling back. “It’s why you always lost to me.”

Sariel’s eyes narrow and he steadies himself, his axe coming up defensively. “That was years ago. I’m not the same male you used to know.”

Something twists in my stomach. “Clearly,” I mutter, closing my eyes for a moment. Predictably, Sariel takes advantage of my distraction, swinging low. I barely have enough time to leap back before the edge of the axe bites into the ground between us – the ground where my boots were just a second ago. With a growl, I raise the sword above my head, swinging down and slamming it onto Sariel’s axe with so much force it drives him to one knee.

“Still predictable.” My voice is rough from the strain of driving my weapon against his.

“And you’re still insufferable,” he spits back. Our faces are inches apart now, weapons locked, our breaths mingling in the charged air between us. While neither of us moves, something shifts inside us, evidenced by the way his mouth turns down, the way my breaths turn ragged.

“I trusted you,” I keen quietly.

“And I trusted you to understand,” he replies, his voice trembling with his emotions.

The moment snaps as quickly as it came. Sariel shoves forward, breaking the lock and resuming our sparring match. Furious blows rain on me and I dodge and parry each, hardly getting a chance to throw any of my own. There is so much anger for me within him, it’s like each strike, faint, and parry holds a message for me.

We stop at the same time, an unspoken ceasefire. Our panting breaths seem garish in the abrupt silence. Without a word, I sheathe my sword and turn to the fire. Jessica’s mouth is open as wide as her eyes.

“What?” I ask her.

“You were so fast, so freaking strong, sparks flew,” she says in awe. Suddenly, she stands up. Shifting her weight uncertainly from one foot to another, she plays with the hem of her top. Seemingly making a decision, she starts walking away.

“Where are you going?” Sariel questions her odd behavior.

She doesn’t stop her stride as she looks over her shoulder. “I need a couple of moments of privacy.”

“Oh.” He grins. “Don’t go too far!” he shouts after her.

“What?” I ask, confused.

“You’ll hear in a minute. Looks like she enjoyed our match as much as we did.” His signature devilish smirk is painted on his handsome face.

As his meaning crystallizes, my jaw unhinges.

“D–do you mean…?” My question comes out haltingly.

Sariel lies down and stretches back with his hands behind his head. “Do I mean I enjoyed our sparring so much I want to go rub one out too? Yes.”

My mouth opens and closes on frozen words. In the end, I lie on my side with my back to the flames and wrap my cloak around myself.

“I’m going to rest,” I say, attempting to keep my words even.

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