Page 31 of The Beautiful Blade

I didn’t deliver killing blows to the waiting suitors, only deflected and delayed. One by one, they tried to pass. One by one, I let them.

Charlotte didn’t need my protection—she was handling them all, her blade a blur, her confidence a beacon in the chaos. I bit my bottom lip as I watched. My cock got harder with every slice. I got more and more turned on the bloodier her blade got.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHARLOTTE

Three competitors surged toward me. The first came at me with a double-edged blade. I sidestepped, twisting just enough to let his momentum carry him past me. My dagger flashed, and he hit the ground before he even registered the cut.

The second fighter was already on me. Her axe arced toward my head, the blade whistling through the air. I dropped low, rolling beneath the strike and coming up behind her. Before she could turn, I lashed out, my dagger slicing through the straps of her armor.She stumbled, unbalanced, and I struck again, this time sending her sprawling.

I turned to face the third. He wasn’t coming for me. He was locked in a battle with Jorge. But Jorge was toying with him, his gaze on me.

"Are you ready for this one?"

Jorge gave the fighter a shove toward me. When the fighter regained their footing, they came at me. As we fought, all I could hear was Jorge's voice.

“Isn’t she magnificent? It's like she's dancing with him. You should see her on the dance floor. I'm almost sad for you that you won't get that joy.”

Jorge had the remaining fighter at sword point. His blade hovered just above the man’s throat. Yet he wasn’t delivering a killing blow.

When the third fighter came at me, I drove my dagger into their shoulder. They fell to their knees, clutching the wound. They didn't get up again.

I turned my attention back to Jorge. He gave me a beatific grin. His arm was outstretched, a blade extending from the middle finger of his prosthetic, aimed at a fourth competitor's neck.

The field was smaller now. The weaker competitors had been eliminated. Some by choice, others by force. Across the expanse, a group of fighters stood in a tight huddle, their eyes fixed on me. Recognition struck me.

It was them. The ones who had thrown me into this nightmare. Drakos's crew.

Kael Drakos stood across from me, his silhouette a warped reflection of the man I’d once admired. The towering champion of the Sun and Moon Gauntlet, the fighter who had claimed victory time and time again, now bore a cruel smirk that tugged at his scarred lips. The left arm that had been broken by my own blade now gleamed with mech enhancements. He rolled his shoulders. The sound of grinding gears set my teeth on edge.

Beside me, Jorge stepped into my peripheral vision. He quickly dispensed of the fourth competitor with a blow to the back of the man's head. As the fallen warrior crumpled, Jorge stepped up beside me.

He didn’t draw his blade. He didn't launch himself in front of me. Instead, he looked at me, his dark eyes soft despite the tension etched across his face.

“Do you want my help?”

Another man wouldn’t have bothered to ask. Another man would’ve rushed forward, blade swinging, eager to claim the glory or shield me from harm. But not Jorge.

He wasn't any man. He was a hero. Heroes always put their heroine's needs first.

“No,” I said softly, shaking my head. “He's mine.”

Jorge nodded, stepping back. He sheathed his prosthetic, returning it to the digit that had stroked me to ecstasy last night. He crossed one leg over the other as he rested against a beam.

Trust. That’s what it was between us. Not just love, but an unshakable trust that made me feel invincible.

I turned my gaze back to Kael.

The hardened warrior watched us with an amused expression. "I'm not going to kill you. I'm going to take the spoils you denied me the other night."

I ignored the has-been, planting my feet and leveling my blade. I wasn’t going to win this for myself. I was going to win it for Jorge—for the man who had stood by me, fought for me, and believed in me when I hadn’t known who I was. Now I knew exactly who I was: I was Jorge's.

Kael moved first. He wasn't moving like a drunkard today. He lunged with the speed of a predator. His mech-enhanced arm shot out, aiming for my side. I twisted, narrowly avoiding the strike. The weight of his attack left a divot in the ground where I’d stood.

I darted around him, light on my feet. My blade slashed toward his exposed flank. He blocked it with his enhanced arm. The clash of metal against metal reverberated up my arm. The force of it jarred me, but I held steady.

Kael was strong, but he was slower than he’d beenbefore. His mech might have been powerful, but it was poorly maintained, the joints stiff and the movements predictable. I could use that against him.

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