Page 167 of Forcing Fate

I was starving.

“Jamlin?” I said, dropping my voice.

Rafe snorted, already reading my tactic. A strategy I would never use on him again… for personal reasons.

“Call me Jam, everyone else does.”

“Jam–” I brought my palms up to rest on his abs through his tunic.

His eyes narrowed, a playful grin growing on his face. “Now, now. Don’t do anything improper in front of the General,” he teased.

“I’m so hungry,” I whined, sliding my hands up his chest. The man was a wall of muscle. I felt the tips of my ears burn in acknowledgment, but kept my eyes on the prize.

His smile didn’t falter, but I noted the twitch in his jaw. Moving faster than a cat, I snapped my knee up and grabbed for his arm. His thighs slapped together a moment too late, and my strike barely landed.

It wasn’t enough to drop him, but it was enough to lower his arm within my reach. I hooked my arm around his and stretched out, reaching for his wrist. He straightened, which freed my knee, and I hung from his arm in the air.

“Oi, little one.” He winced, holding his crotch.

I intended to pull his wrist behind him but misjudged his strength. He held my weight in the air as if it was nothing. General Rafe chuckled in amusement. I growled and swung my legs up around Jam’s shoulder, wrapped around his arm as if it were a branch.

I tried to pry the food from his hand, but he held it fast.

“I swear, you are not the woman I thought you were, Avyanna,” Jam said, amusement coloring his tone.

I glared at his bandage, a reminder of the damage I’d done in my fit of a night terror. I was hungry. It had been an entire day since I last ate. I gripped the food around his hand and bit down. I bit hard. Cursing, Jamlin released his hold on me and my food, sending me tumbling to the ground with it.

“By all that is good and right in this world! You fight like a girl!” He cursed, rubbing at his arm.

I hadn’t broken his skin, but deep indentations marred his flesh.

“She has a wicked bite,” Rafe said with a deep laugh that spread goose flesh over my arms.

“You knew?” Jamlin demanded.

“She’s bitten me more than once.”

I crossed my legs, content to eat my bread and cheese on the ground, watching the exchange.

“Sounds like a story I’d like to hear,” Blain commented from his seat.

Rafe grunted without reply, coming to stand in front of me. He offered me a hand, and I took it, allowing him to help me up. I ate as quickly as I could and eyed the weapons lined against the wall of the fortress.

“Pick one,” he said, motioning to them.

I stuffed the last bit of bread in my mouth and walked over to the array. Short swords, shields, a staff, a spear, a mace, hatchets… all the weapons presented had a similar theme. They were small, aside from the spear and staff. The only training I had with a spear, however, was in formations with other soldiers. Also, how was a staff a weapon? It was something shepherds used.

I picked up a shortsword and shield. These were what I was most comfortable with, especially if not fighting in a group. Turning around, I tested the weight of the blade.

My mouth fell ajar when I lifted my eyes to Rafe. He held two arming swords. They had to have been custom smithed for him—they fit him well. Naked steel winked at me and black leather wrapped the hilts. Simple, yet menacing.

“I… er–” I stammered.

He brandished the blades as if they were extensions of his long, muscular arms. He towered above me, a mountain of thick muscle. His eye was alight, eager for a fight.

“You’ve smitten her, now,” Blain teased.

“Give me your all,” Rafe ordered.

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