Page 17 of Hopeless Realm
His teeth drag across his lower lip before I strike again. With ease he sidesteps my advance. The sweat of his shoulder skims against my arm as he steps away from the attack as if I’m nothing more than an annoying insect. The asshole even presses his palm to the center of my back to push me along, helping me right out of his way.
“Come on you’re better than that.” The taunting grin pressing against his lips is no longer sexy.
It’s infuriating.
My jaw clenches tightly.
“You haven’t made your move yet. Combat is more than defensive tactics.” I cock a brow at him and the comment wipes that smile right of his face.
He grips the hilt with both hands and arcs the shining sword, not holding back in the least for me.
Our blades meet in a clash of harsh metal on metal. I drag the edge of my old sword down the length of his, putting every ounce of my new supernatural strength into forcing his attack off.
But he’s right back on me in less than a second. He strikes the blade down, my arms shaking as I hold the weight of his attack above my head. His slick chest presses against my arms and I exhale hard through my teeth.
“Now might be a good time for me to tell you,” that damn smile is clinging to his lips even as I heave breaths out to keep my arms locked in place, “Darrio taught me how to wield a sword.”
Fuck me.
Fucking Darrio and his body built for war. He probably taught Ryder how to fight off death itself, and here I thought the prince would be an easy match.
My arms tremble with anger and terrible misjudgment of this beautiful fae.
A petty thought crosses my mind, and if I didn’t know better, Ryder catches the sly look in my gaze.
“Don’t,” he says, his eyes widening just slightly.
My boot comes up between us, planting firmly against his lower abdomen, right above his crotch—because I’m a nice friend like that. As I kick off from his close proximity, he grips my calf, yanking me down with him.
His arm cradles around me protectively. Sweat clings to my stomach as his body envelopes mine. We land hard, our swords tumbling to the ground at my side. A puff of dirt clouds around us.
His rough palms are low on my back, our legs tangled together. I’m still trying to catch my breath as I look down on his piercing eyes. The sun shines into them, brightening the blue into an impossible color.
Deliberately, I hold myself above him, the dirt shifting between my fingers as I plant my hands on either side of his head.
“You just can’t help yourself from fighting dirty, can you?” he asks with a taunting smirk. Slowly, his thumbs begin tracing small circles low on my back.
Energy swirls through me, settling low in my stomach. And that’s all it takes—that electric attraction that seems to force its way between us—that’s all it takes for me to shove away from him.
I lie on my back, my arm sticking to his as we stare up at the soft white clouds.
“Where’d you learn that stuff?” he asks quietly.
The feel of my dry throat constricting hurts as I try to swallow between ragged breaths.
“My father.” It isn’t something I want to hide. I’ve spent years not speaking of him. I had no one to speak to really. I don’t want to forget him. My father was a strong, intelligent, amazing man. He shouldn’t be forgotten.
“He trained your father’s men, actually,” I add. “I spent my childhood wishing I could be more than just a guest at the pretty castle you grew up in.”
“Really?” he says, shifting on his side until he’s looking down at me.
If the world was different, Ryder and I might have grown up together. I would have had a crush on him, no doubt. And he probably would have broken my heart.
“Your father and mine were friends of sorts. My father was the commander of the Royal Guard. The king respected my father’s knowledge.”
His thumb brushes over my cheek as he pushes a stray hair back from my damp forehead.
“If he was anything like you, I’m sure he was an amazing person.”
