Page 136 of Brambles and Bellflowers
I brought my leg up as hard as possible as my knee caught Miles in the groin. No magically induced thrall could negate the after-effects of a powerful ball-kicking. Sure enough, Miles rolled off me and curled against the ground.
“W-what’s wrong with you?” I asked, moving to my knees. I didn’t feel guilty at all, at least not now. Not even his pained posture could stir my pity.
It took a long second for me to catch my breath—too long, especially when gaining any advantage was necessary. Either Miles’s current situation left him less vulnerable, or maybe I might have been more affected by my near-death experience than I thought. But when I finally moved to my feet, Miles was already regaining his bearings.
His eyes were still distant, his hair wild, and his skin streaked with dirt. When Miles fully stood, cracking his neck as he turned to face me, my heart began to race.
Great, now he was feral.
He threw his arm up, fingers grasping at the air, and the ground quaked at my feet.
“Move.”
I moved without thinking, drifting quickly through the wind before, suddenly, I was clinging to his back. He turned, trying to grab me, but he wasn’t quick nor nimble enough to get me loose.
My thoughts were calm and sure, and a sense of rightness rushed through me. I had the advantage. While Tu was usually formidable, he was slower than usual. I only needed to be faster.
But why was he trying to fight me?
“He’s losing the war against himself.” Mu’s power hummed under my skin as his explanation rang through my thoughts. “Tu is testing him, and he’s failing. You must see him through this; otherwise, he won’t be able to control his powers properly.”
Great.
Miles fell to his knees, fingers clawing at my leg as he cursed in a language I didn’t recognize. I didn’t know why he didn’t think to roll onto his back—I would have been crushed—but at least there were small mercies.
Clearly, he wasn’t a tactical fighter.
“You need to get his attention.” At this point, I was no longer alarmed by his voice. That was probably something that would disturb me greatly later.
Miles tried to grab me—his fingers closed around my upper arm—and I realized I had nothing to lose. I’d already kicked him in the balls, and that was probably the most traumatizing event a man could suffer.
This was sure to be an attention-getter.
We hadn’t adequately bathed in days, and then there were today’s multiple bathroom breaks. I might become diseased from this, but I had no choice.
I turned my face toward his hand until I was able to sink my teeth over the outside corner of the extremely dirty and nasty-tasting appendage. It wasn’t hard enough to draw blood, but it was a moderately effective plan. At least he was cursing in French again.
Then we were back to English.
“What thefuck?” Miles had stopped struggling, leaning on his knees as I remained wrapped around his back, my teeth sunk into his palm. “Bianca? Why are you biting me?”
I let him go and wiped my mouth against the back of his shirt before responding. “You’re better now?”
“Am I…” The beginning of his question trailed off, and his taut muscles relaxed. “Damn.”
I unlocked my ankles from his waist and slid to the ground. I was out of breath, and I fell against him and rested my cheek against his back. “Did it work?”
“I tried to hurt you.” Miles gasped, spinning around and grasping my shoulders.
“It’s okay,” I said, touching my throat. “Did it work?” I asked again.
“Yeah,” he replied. His hands were shaking as he rubbed my arms. “Thanks to you.”
“You did it,” I told him. After all, I hadn’t done much of anything other than inflict physical harm.
“I didn’t.” He sat forward and pulled me to him. “Not alone. I lost control. What if it happens again?”
“Then it happens.” The words rushed from me. Even though I wasn’t in a place to promise this, I continued, “And if it does, I’ll bite you again. Just wash your hands first.”
