Page 81 of Fated In Blood

Anger boiled up, but I shoved emotion down. I couldn’t let him get inside my head. “I suppose we will,” I muttered, falling back into a crouch.

This time, I went for him, timing my blow perfectly, but he disappeared so quickly, and I dragged my blades through nothing but air, Blake chuckling ten feet behind me, wickedness burning in his hazel eyes, shadow magic spinning around him.

Maybe, if I had such power, this would be a closer match.

“Too slow,” he taunted. “If this was a real fight, you’d be dead.”

He pissed me off, but he was right.

I had endless hours of training but had never faced an opponent who’d outmatched me to this extent. Maybe, with months of practice, we would have a fair contest, but right now, I might as well be stepping into the ring for the first time.

“This isn’t about winning, Silver.” I’d forgotten Riordan was still here, and the fact he was witnessing this shitshow made everything worse. “We’re only trying to get a gauge on your abilities.”

“Her abilities suck,” Blake snapped. “She’ll get us all fucking killed.”

“I can do this. One more time.” I gripped my knives, measured the distance between us, then proceeded to miss him by about a mile, slamming into a tree from the momentum of my leaping attack. Okay, a full-on frontal assault was definitelynota good strategy.

I tried throwing my knives, but even that approach wasn’t quick enough, and I ended up spending all my time pulling them out of the tree trunks or looking for them in the woods. Eventually, I was biting my lip in frustration.

We fell into a pattern, Blake changing up his method of attack, and me evading using every trick my uncles had taught me and some I made up on the fly. Blake was too strong, too light on his feet, and so blindingly fast that after an hour, I hadn’t landed a single blow and was covered in a myriad of tiny, burning cuts.

“Give up, Slayer, while you still have your pride. You’re outmatched.”

I shook my head. “Once more.”

I had one more move, one I’d perfected and polished, one that even Uncle Alistair couldn’t ever anticipate. Blake lazily spun his blades and got into position, that disdainful smirk never wavering.

This probably wouldn’t work.

But I had to try.

I bolted forward at the same time he did, throwing myself to my knees at the last possible second, just before we crashed together. I slid through the mud, my knees taking the brunt of the damage, but I didn’t care, one of my knives slicing through the leather of Blake’s boot as I passed between his legs.

He grunted, the pained sound ripping through me like a sawblade.

Before I was even aware I’d moved, I was kneeling beside him, hands wrapped around his leg to slow the blood pouringout over his boot, soaking the muddy ground. “We need…” I looked over at Riordan, his eyes wide. “That healer, Sylvester, the one with the silver light.”

I could barely catch my breath, my hands shaking, the fight completely forgotten. All I saw was the grimace of pain twisting Blake’s pale face, and the blood dripping into the mud from the too deep cut.

“Get the fuck away from me.” Blake peeled my hand off his leg and glared at his friend. “I’m done here. You want to continue with this madness, that’s on you.”

“Blake, don’t youdaredematerialize, not with those wounds,” Riordan yelled, but Blake’s face squeezed tight, the tendons in his neck standing out in stark relief, and then he was gone.

“Fuck.” Riordan came up beside me, staring down at the empty spot—the bloodstains. He offered me his hand, which I ignored. “Just for the record, I’ve never seen anyone beat Blake in a knife fight. He always kicks my ass, so consider today a successful test of your skills, Silver.”

I put my head between my knees. “I feel sick. Dizzy.”

His gaze narrowed before he nodded. “Perfectly normal, given what just happened between you two.”

What that cryptic comment meant, I didn’t know, and then it didn’t matter as Riordan headed toward the wooden box and took a seat, dragging his hand down his face. “You passed the first test, so I’m going to sweeten my offer. Think of what you want most in this world, then decide how much that is worth to you.”

I didn’t have to think.

“I want Angel back. What do you want in return?”

Riordan’sblue-flecked eyes snagged on my jacket, hanging from the tree branch. “You want your sister? Then this is my proposition, Evangeline.” That got my attention. NotSilver, notSlayer, but myactual name.

“Tyrell is one of the oldest vampires on earth, Made by Caine himself. Not quite an Elder, but a true Ancient. This means he’s stronger and harder to kill than any vampire you or your family has ever attempted to slay.”

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