Page 150 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

“Nothing,” I mutter, dropping the gloves on the ground and pulling the strange padded helmet over my head. My stomach flips and nausea fills me as I reach down for the gloves. Fumbling with the straps, I try to work out how to slip my hand into them without getting tangled up.

His shadow falls over me for the second time today, and he’s so close I can feel the heat radiating off him. Except this time, he’s not exuding his usual asshole vibes. “Stop.” His voice is quiet but firm as he places his hand on my arm. He’s touched me more times in the last couple of hours than he has since I first met him—not that I’m counting. My fingers stop scrabbling with the glove, and I look up as he gently takes the gloves from me. Placing one between his knees, he lifts the other and starts loosening the ties before grasping my right hand and sliding the glove on. It’s odd. He ties it around my wrist, the fabric ballooning out to cover my entire hand. The inside is shaped so my fingers are slightly curved. It’s not heavy, but it is cumbersome. I’m so busy examining my now covered hand that I didn’t realise he has the other glove ready for me to put on. Eldrin clears his throat, and my cheeks flush as I quickly drop my arm down to my side and hold out my ungloved hand for him to repeat the process.

His hand stays on my arm for a second after he’s finished tying the laces, hesitating for a moment. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he says, his voice low. “You know that, right?”

Do I know it? He hasn’t exactly been welcoming since I got here, his hot and cold attitude towards me giving me whiplash. He’s never hurt me though, and he actively stood in front of me to take the queen’s wrath on my behalf. My pause hangs heavily between us. Looking up at him, I see a flash of hurt at my hesitation. It quickly disappears and I think he’s going to pull away from me, but whatever he sees in my eyes stops him. Examining his face, I reach for that place inside me that guides me. I know now that it’s the Great Mother, but I used to think it was just instinct that would guide me with a nudge to make sure I didn’t take a certain corridor back to the slave quarters. The gut feeling that would warn me not to drink from a certain puddle,even though I was thirsty and dehydrated, one that I would later learn was tainted.

It’s been less insistent since I got here, the Mother’s influence fading just as she warned me would happen, but when I reach out, I can feel her presence. Right now, it’s telling me I can trust Eldrin not to hurt me, at least not physically. His barbed tongue is another matter.

He continues to stand under my piercing gaze as I come to a conclusion, and I’m glad that he’s giving me this. There’s a sadness clinging to him, as if he thinks I’m going to reject him, to tell him I don’t trust him not to harm me, and that’s what makes the decision for me.

“I trust you not to harm me.”

He seems to sag with relief, and for a second, his eyes close tightly, as if my answer was somehow really important to him. When he opens his eyes again, he settles, sensing that there’s more that I’ve not spoken. “But?” he prompts. His hand is still on my arm, the warmth distracting. He seems to realise he’s still touching me and pulls away, crossing his arms over his chest, but he doesn’t take a step back like I expected him to.

Taking a deep breath, I try to put my feelings into words. “This is going to be hard for me,” I start, hoping he understands that I don’t just mean physically. When we start fighting, I’m sure I’m going to have flashbacks, and Eldrin will turn into every man who’s ever hurt me. During that panic, I won’t be able to distinguish him from the men who wanted to harm me, to punish and injure me. “I trustyou,” I emphasise, reaching out and briefly resting my hand on his arm before pulling away. “But when you’re…touching me, fighting with me, i-it won’t be you…” My words jumble and mix as I get frustrated, trying to explain how I sometimes get overwhelmed. Growling low in my throat, I shake my head and look up at his golden eyes again. “This isn’t making any sense, is it?”

“I understand,” he says, and to my shock, I can see the understanding in his eyes. “We’ll go slowly.” He straightens and takes a step back, picking up two of the smaller pads and sliding his hands into the straps. Gesturing for me to face him, he holds up the pads.

“Right, punch me,” he instructs, his stance wide as he waits for the blow against the pads.

Not moving, I simply raise an eyebrow, watching him with amused confusion. “You want me to hit you?” He’s seriously going to let me punch him? After all the shit he put me through, he’s really giving me the opportunity to hit him?

Not changing his stance, he mimics my expression as he waits for me to make my move. “Yes, that’s the whole point,” he drawls, sparking that frustration within me again, and I’m pretty sure he’s doing it on purpose. Two can play at that game.

Crossing my arms, which is much more difficult to do while wearing gloves, I continue to stare at him with a raised eyebrow. “Aren’t you supposed to teach me how to get out of a hold or something?” I tease, and I can see when my words hit their mark as his body and expression tighten, but he doesn’t drop his defensive position.

“You’ve already had a panic attack once today, I didn’t think you’d want to have another,” he growls, the words low. I was expecting him to mock me, but there is no trace of derision in his voice. With a grunt of frustration, he shakes his head and raises the pads a little higher. “We can work on that another day. I want to know that you can defend yourself.”

Uncrossing my arms, I glance down at my gloved hands before looking up at him again. “You’re not worried I’m going to hurt you?” I’d meant the words to sound teasing, but they come out much quieter and unsure than I would have liked.

He snorts, and I see the corner of his lips twitch. “Hardly.” I know he’s doing it on purpose, but it angers me, makes mewant to prove him wrong, and show him how strong I am. “Stop stalling, we need to unlock your fae strength.” His words give me the kick up the backside I need. This isn’t the first time someone has said this, and I’m keen to learn what they mean. Do I have some secret abilities I don’t know about?

Rolling my neck, I step up to him and raise my gloved hands. “Your funeral,” I mutter. His resulting laughter makes me narrow my eyes and want to pummel him into the ground.

“Come on then, princess, show me how strong you are.”

“It can’t be that bad,” Naril comments with an amused smile as he watches me across the table, lifting his glass to his lips.

He eventually came to rescue me from his brother’s tortuous training program, but I was panting and barely able to stand at that point. Eldrin continued to have me punch and kick various pads for what felt like an eternity, but he was right, it hadn’tcaused a panic attack. To both our disappointments, I didn’t show any fae strength, but he assured me that it’s there and we just need to keep working at it. He explained it to me as needing to unlock my genes, saying I’d lived around humans for so long, my survival instincts would have kicked in and my more human traits would have surfaced. It will take time, but working with him and being surrounded by the elves will accelerate it. It will be worth it in the end. However, my body currently feels like it’s dying.

“Everything hurts,” I complain as I take a sip of my water. My whole body aches, and I’ve barely touched the plate of foodin front of me, which I feel bad about. I don’t want the food to go to waste, but lifting the fork to my mouth is painful. “Even my tongue hurts,” I whine as Naril chuckles. We both know I’ve experienced much worse, but he doesn’t call me out on it.

“You poor soul,” he teases, leaning back in his chair as he watches me. I like Naril, but I sometimes feel his gaze on me when I’m not looking, and I’ve caught him watching me a couple of times with a fascinated look on his face. I know he finds my human mannerisms amusing. I also have no doubt about whose side he’s on. Vaeril is his brother, and he would defend him to the death. However, for the moment, we have a tenuous friendship.

There’s a brief knock on the door, but whoever it is doesn’t bother to wait for an answer. The door swings open with a bang and Eldrin, followed by a tired-looking Vaeril, enters the room, shutting the abused door behind them. The bond in my chest glows as I see him, and I instantly feel better the closer he gets. I’ve not seen him since last night, and I wonder if he’s going to say anything about the fact that he just left the ball without saying anything. I’m still a little sore over what happened, yet part of me yearns for his proximity. Sadly, he stops at the other side of the table, his eyes running over me with an amused expression before he turns to Eldrin with a raised eyebrow.

“What have you done to my mate?” he asks casually, and I almost believe the façade he’s trying to maintain, but I can feel his anger and frustration through the link between us. If I hadn’t been so close and looking right at him, I don’t think I would have sensed it, assuming they were my own feelings. It’s strange, like a second-hand feeling. Eldrin shifts and pulls my attention away from my bond as I watch him frown at Vaeril. He obviously doesn’t believe Vaeril either, but I don’t miss when his whole body stiffens at the word ‘mate.’

“I’m trying to unlock her fae strength,” Eldrin answers simply, but there’s a defensive note in his tone that makes the atmosphere in the room change. Shifting forward in my chair, I watch the two of them with a frown. What’s going on here?

Vaeril smiles at him, but it’s not a nice smile. His teeth are bared as he tilts his head to the side, tracking Eldrin’s every move. “By working her until she drops?”

“She’s fine,” he bites out, gesturing towards me without turning away from my growling…mate. Even in my head, I stumble over the word, not quite comfortable with the implications. Something changes as Eldrin leans back against one of the chairs, crossing his arms. “Besides, she’s not your mate yet.”

That was apparently the wrong thing for him to say, if Vaeril’s snarl is anything to go by. Taking a menacing step towards Eldrin, Vaeril gets close enough that they are almost pressed together, his body practically vibrating with anger. “Yet,” he growls.

Eldrin shifts, and the atmosphere gets even more tense as he bares his teeth in response. If someone doesn’t step in, there’s going to be a fight. Glancing over at Naril, I see that he’s still relaxing back in his chair with a lazy, amused smile.

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