Page 107 of House of the Raven
He probably anticipated I would be faster than him. His muscular bulk makes him slow. That is why he calledto the floorinstead. But no matter. The bigger they are, the harder they fall.
I’m ready for our next exchange in this intricate dance of blades. He’s a more challenging opponent than Amira. I’ll give him that.
Just to make a point, and so there is no doubt in his mind as to who is better, I go for another touch, this time higher. With a swift move, I graze his cheek with the tip of my rapier, leaving a mark. He touches two fingers to his face and is momentarily stunned by the sight of blood.
Narrowing his eyes, he lunges at me. I parry and lightly jump back out of his way, my feet moving as if the steps belong to a well-memorized waltz. He follows, and I have him right where I want him. I seize my chance and lunge, rapier aimed at his throat. He’s forced to take a step back.
I know each of this courtyard’s cobblestones by heart. Maybe it’s an unfair advantage, but he asked for it. Right behind him, there is a stone slightly uneven with the rest. The back of his heel connects with it, and he loses his balance. He is agile and immediately tries to compensate in order to keep his footing, except I won’t let him.
I press my advantage, my rapier pointed straight at his heart this time. His dark eyes signal the very instant he knows he has lost, but there is something else in that inscrutable gaze, a combination of pride and relentless determination. He isn’t the type to accept defeat.
He’s fast as he reaches over and seizes my wrist with his offhand. My heart races as Bastien’s warm fingers tighten around me, pulling me close. My body crashes against his, and we fall. His back hits the ground. Our rapiers clatter, discarded. I’m on top of him, practically straddling his well-muscled body, which I can feel along every inch of my own.
Our gazes meet. The air seems to crackle.
The heat of embarrassment starts climbing up my neck, but I won’t let this awkwardness spoil my win. With a quick, fluid movement, I draw the dagger I took from the armory and raise it. Right as I’m on the verge of pressing the blade to his neck, he deftly entangles his legs with mine, seizes my wrist, and rolls.
Now, he’s on top, and I’m pinned underneath, his hips ensconced between my legs, his nose nearly touching mine. His eyes fall to my lips. Our chests rise and fall in unison as our breaths mingle, creating an intoxicating blend. The air itself is electrified.
Bastien’s expression is unlike anything I’ve ever seen in him. There is a mixture of emotions washing over him, some appear to be the same ones churning within me at this very moment, but there are others I cannot decipher.
The sun has dipped lower on the horizon, bathing us in a deeper shade of gold. His eyes burn brightly as our lips remain tantalizingly close.
I feel him grow between my legs, pressing against my middle. A delicious sensation such as I’ve never felt floods my body, and I suddenly realize I want him to kiss me.
I want my first kiss to come from his chiseled lips.
Oh, gods!
My eyes flutter closed of their own accord. I’m feeling as if I’m about to float straight to the sky from ecstasy, when he jumps to his feet, leaving me bereft on the ground. My lids spring open. I jerk to a sitting position and wrap tense arms tightly around my chest, as if I’m covering my nakedness. I’m fully dressed, yet I feel exposed.
Before he turns away, I notice the erection tenting his pants. It’s… it’s… I don’t know what it is, but I’m intimidated by the size.
“I’m sorry, princess,” he says, but he doesn’t sound sorry. He sounds angry.
At me? At himself? I have no idea because all I see is his back and the tension across his wide shoulders.
“That was… inappropriate,” he says, his voice low and gravelly. “It will never happen again. Once more, my apologies.”
He still doesn’t face me. He only turns his head slightly to show his profile.
My embarrassment grows. I have no idea what to call or even think of what just transpired. My brain struggles to process it and put a name to it.
When we first started sparring, there was only my anger, but as the tension dissipated, something else came to the surface. I was exhilarated by the intensity of our match and our proximity. Then our bodies collided, we became one, and a different emotion came over me: desire. Yes, that’s what it was. I’ve never felt it before, but I recognized it. And I know he felt it, too. He can’t deny it. The physical proof is evident.
Inappropriate, he said, but isn’t that for me to decide?
Slowly, I climb to my feet and take a step in Bastien’s direction. His head snaps forward, away from me, and an invisible wall seems to appear between us. His rejection is like a punch to the gut. My anger reappears, and it’s worse than ever.
“You lost,” I snap, wishing to humiliate him the way he has humiliated me with his rejection. “And you’re a sore loser.”
He says nothing.
I pick up my sword, and as I wrap my hand around the hilt, I try to draw strength from it, willing its steel to enfold my heart. I don’t like what I’m feeling. Not at all.
As I walk past him, I keep my head high. Before opening the door, I pause with a hand on the knob and glance back. Bastien is facing me now, though he still isn’t meeting my gaze.
“Please deliver a message for me,” I say coldly. “Tell Don Justo I’ll meet him for breakfast tomorrow again.”
