Page 118 of Silver Claws, Crimson Tears
“Looks like your dragon just abandoned you,” Vaylen says, pushing off from the tree. “Smart creature.”
I stride toward him, stopping close enough to smell the pine scent clinging to his uniform. “Stay out of my business, Stormsong.”
“As long as you’re part of the Sky Order, everything you do is my business.” His eyes hold mine, unflinching. “Especially when you’re sneaking out with an injured shoulder after nearly being abducted by Screechclaws.” He taps the insignia on his chest. “High Prime, remember?”
“I just need a moment with Zephyros,” I say, trying to keep my voice level. “You can allow that much at least.”
Vaylen’s eyebrows shoot up. “Based on what? You think I owe you something for some reason?”
Heat rises in my chest, searing my veins. “Get out of my way.”
When he doesn’t move, I shove him hard in the chest. He barely rocks back on his heels, solid as a stone statue. I try to slip past, but his arm catches me around the waist.
“You’re not going anywhere until?—“
I twist in his grip and slam my knee toward his groin. He blocks with his thigh just in time, his face hardening.
“So that’s how we’re doing this?” he growls.
I break his hold with a sharp downward strike to his forearm and dance backward. “Apparently.”
Vaylen lunges, trying to grab me again, but I duck under his reach and spin behind him. He’s fast for his size, whirling to face me before I can capitalize.
We circle each other, glaring. He’s all controlled power, while I’m spring-loaded tension ready to snap.
“You’re injured,” he says. “Don’t make this worse.”
I laugh. “Worried about hurting me, High Prime? You should be worried about yourself.”
I feint right, then dive left, but he anticipates the move. His arms wrap around me from behind, pinning my arms to my sides. My injured shoulder protests.
“Yield,” he mutters in my ear, his breath hot against my neck, his body hard against mine.
Instead, I throw my head back, connecting with his face. He grunts but doesn’t let go. I stomp on his instep, then hook my ankle behind his knee and push backward with all my weight.
We tumble to the ground together. I roll away, springing to my feet while he’s still recovering. Blood trickles from his nose.
“Looks like I can still surprise you,” I taunt.
He wipes the blood with the back of his hand. “You always could.”
When he rises, I’m ready. He charges, but I sidestep and use his momentum to send him stumbling past. He recovers quickly, spinning to block my escape route again.
We’re both breathing hard now, crouched and ready to attack or defend.
“This is ridiculous,” he says. “We’re on the same side.”
“Are we? Maybe I’m a traitor.”
His eyes flash. “I would never believe that.”
I lunge, aiming a strike at his throat that he blocks, then counters, grabbing for my wrist, but I twist away. My foot finds a slick patch of grass, and I stumble. Vaylen sees his opening and tackles me to the ground, pinning me beneath him, careful of my injured shoulder despite everything.
Our faces are inches apart, both of us panting. His weight presses me into the cool earth, his hands gripping my wrists above my head.
“Get off me,” I hiss, though my body betrays me with a pulse of desire.
“Not until you tell me what you’re really doing out here,” he says, his eyes boring into mine.
