Page 58 of Black Wing and Shadows
Nellie stepped onto the mat, wings pressed tight to her back, her height shadowing over me. She pulled her black hair into a ponytail with one sharp tug, her eyes locked onto mine, blazing with abhorrence. That stare told me everything—I wasn’t just fighting her. I was fighting another ghost of my father’s past.
The fury inside me cracked open. My chest felt like a furnace, heat rushing through my veins. Rage bled into every corner of me—at my mother for not being here, at my father for his secrets, at Alex for being a dick at every turn. All of it fused into one storm, and I let it roll through me as I faced her.
I stepped onto the mat and bounced on my feet. I stared back at her with my green eyes narrowed, although I was sure they had changed colors, reflecting my shifting mood. I did not offer a handshake before we started,as she challenged me with mounting rage pouring off her. I moved forward in a provocative stance, throwing out my left fist to gauge her reaction. She dodged and threw a fist out with speed. I swung my head to the side and dodged it. I kneeled even lower and charged her. She fell backwards, and I quickly climbed on top to mount her. She was bucking her hips under me. I threw a couple of rights and lefts, and she threw her arms up to cover her face. I threw a right to the side of her face and made contact. She threw her right up and got my shoulder. She bucked at the same time, hard enough that it jostled me. She was able to slide out and jumped to her feet.
Before I could fully rise, she drove her boot into me with a brutal kick. The air ripped from my lungs, shock locking me in place for a heartbeat. I forced another breath in, scrambled up, and staggered back to carve some space between us.
She closed in, fist snapping forward. Her right hook cracked across my cheek, heat blooming along the bone. My vision sparked, but I didn’t wait. I reached to my thigh, yanked free a dagger, and slashed. Steel bit into her arm, tearing skin. Blood poured hot down her pale flesh. She gasped, glanced at the wound, then ripped her own dagger free. I pulled my second blade, gripping it in my right. My left hand struck first, another swipe, and before she could reset, I flicked my right. The dagger buried deep in her shoulder, blood spreading fast across her leather.
Her response came sharp—she snapped her wrist and let her dagger fly. I jerked sideways, but not fast enough. Pain seared across my arm as the blade grazed past, slicing skin but sparing me from having steel lodged inside.
I felt a tingle alongside my spine, the familiar feeling I got when Zane was nearby. I couldn’t exactly look around the room and divert my attention from Nellie. She pulled out another dagger and charged at me. I jumped to the left, getting out of her way. I flicked another dagger at her, hitting her ass. She let out an angry yell, reached back, and pulled the dagger out, throwing it off the mat. She flicked a dagger, and it landed in the front of my thigh.
Fuck.
That.
Hurt.
I felt anger wash over me, and over the past few weeks, I’d learned which feelings were Zane’s. I had learned to build a mental shield. I hadn’t been able to block him or his feelings out yet entirely, but I got close. I stacked the blocks in my head because I couldn’t let his feelings distract me right now. I had a dagger sticking out of my thigh, which had blood oozing down my leather pants. Pulling it out would only make it bleed more. I reached for my side dagger, unsheathed it, and gripped it with my right hand. I was fucking done dancing around with her. I ducked low and charged her again. She hammer-fisted my back a couple of times. I reached with my left arm, hooked her legs, pulled her down, and mounted her. I gripped her right arm, locking it onto the mat with my left arm, and moved my dagger to her neck and pressed it to her skin.
“I don’t know what your fucking problem is, but I am done playing, and it’s time to submit,” I growled in a low voice in her ear.
“It’s bad enough that your father is a murderer, but you had to claim one of us. I’ve been trying for a year,” she hissed back.
Ohshit. This wasn’t only about my father. This was about Zane. My heart started beating faster, and I could feel the heat rushing to my chest. I pressed the knife into her throat harder. Any harder, or if I changed angles, she would be bleeding. I couldn’t let her control my emotions. Those were mine to control. I inhaled deeply.
“I don’t own anyone. You didn’t stand a chance. Now submit before you start bleeding more onto that pretty porcelain face of yours.”
She clenched her fist and knocked three times beneath my tight grip. I sheathed my dagger and sprang to my feet.
I narrowed my eyes and stared. “Don’t underestimate me again.”
Throughout my life, plenty thought that because I was short, I would be an easy target. What they didn’t know was that I had been sparring and practicing with daggers since I was little. I looked around the room and saw him leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He appeared unamused, so I lowered my shields. He locked eyes with me, then shifted his gaze to Nellie, who was standing up. I turned my head to look at her. As she rose,she looked at him before dropping her eyes. I looked back at him, and he stared at her with a glare that suggested he might actually kill her.
“Apparently, this little fight is about you—”I said down the bond.
“Oh, not your father?”
“Hm, yeah, she may have mentioned him, but she was angrier when she mentioned that I put some kind of claim to your kind, to you, and that she had been after you for the last year.”
“I never gave her a single second of my time.”
“Why was she convinced that I stole one of you?”
“Some Drusearon warriors, mostly the females, believe that we shouldn’t go outside our clans. That we are creating a bunch of half breeds…”
“I guess she’s one of those. She's been trying for a year, making her a—”
“Second-year.”
“Blackcreek, Winner,” Professor Gile stated, “what does that make for you?” He looked at me.
“In all of my sparring or since I’ve been here?”
“The latter.”
“This makes seven to three.”
