Page 63 of Reign of Light
So I do.
There’s no correcting or chiding; there’s no commenting on my form or focus. He lets me channel my rage into every strike, every slash. He meets me blow for blow, our synchronized steps moving us around the deck, and nothing else in the world exists.
The tears stop as I focus on the rage, pretending every blow isn’t one to the man that I love, but instead to the man that I loathe. Weston doesn’t falter. He pushes me harder, the fierce look on his face comforting. He understands. He holds hatred for Dane too, because Dane also took away his life, almost in the most literal and final sense.
But even with everything he did, every way he hurt me, my family, my friends, there’s a tiny sliver deep inside me that is grateful. If Danehadn’t done it, I wouldn’t be here with Weston. There would be no us. I might never know what it feels like to be loved unconditionally.
The gratitude feels like a betrayal, but feeling it all is the only way I’ll ever be able to heal.
I grunt loudly as the sword I slam into Weston’s sends vibrations into my hand. The moves feel as if they are happening on their own, like my body knows what to do, what it needs, to let this all go. I swipe again, catching his blade at just the right angle. I flick my wrist, winding my blade around his, the same way he’d done to me earlier today, and yank my weapon back. The sword pulls out of his hand, and the metal clatters to the boards beneath us.
There’s a flash in Weston’s eyes, and I barely have time to register the emotion behind it before he’s reaching to his side and pulling a dagger. He swipes it out in front of him, and my body reacts faster than my mind. I let go of my swords and grab his hand, wrenching his wrist and sliding the hilt from his grasp before rapidly flipping it and stepping into him.
The exact way he taught me.
The dull training blade presses against his throat while my other hand fists his damp shirt and pulls my body flush against his.
And that’s when I see it again, the emotion in his gaze.
Pride.
Distant cheers ring out over the deck as we stand pressed into each other, our breaths heaving in rhythm. A grin breaks out on his face, and it snaps me back into my thoughts.
Holy shit. I just won.
“Yes!”
“She’s a fucking warrior!”
“Cap, you’re never gonna live this down!”
Their cheers and jeers finally resonate in my ears, and as I look up into Weston’s proud face, I can’t help but let myself smile.
“Yield, my queen,” Weston grumbles, and I lower the dagger fromhis neck. His other sword hits the deck, and then I’m in his arms, his lips crashing into mine as the toes of my boots drag across the floor.
Catcalls and whistles worse than anything Jorn has ever done erupt from the group as Weston kisses me unashamedly. He doesn’t let up for even a moment as the chatter and footsteps of the crew disappear down the stairs, leaving us alone on deck.
I pull my face back, my arms still firmly wrapped around his neck, and try to catch my breath.
“Did you let me win?”
He strokes his nose along the length of mine, his eyes lifting from where they are fixed on my mouth to catch my gaze.
“No, Lennox. That was all you.”
My face splits into a smile so large that my cheeks twinge in pain. Weston matches it, and despite how difficult it was to hear everything tonight, I feel lighter. Happier. Ready to move forward, and it’s all thanks to him.
He kisses me again, his tongue invading my mouth as his hand fists in my hair before he pulls away. His eyes darken, and one corner of his lips tips up in a smirk.
“Now it’s time to teach you a lesson for beating me in front of my crew.”
I squeal loudly as he flips me over his shoulder. His palm swats at my ass, and my yelp is only met by a deep laugh before he spins us around and heads toward the steps. Torches blaze around the deck, and it’s the first time I realize how late it is. Time stopped while Weston and I battled, but now the suns have disappeared, and the dark purple sky is already deepening to a star-studded black.
“Shouldn’t we go to the mess? Aren’t you hungry?” I cry. I press my hands into his back, propping myself up so I can turn toward him. A low growl emanates from his chest as he looks back at me, his eyes trailing up my body until they land on my face.
“Starving.”
My cheeks heat and my thighs clench together as he takes the final strides toward the steps.
