Page 47 of A Kingdom of Destruction

“Maybe you just need someone to beat you into shape.”

“I am not out of shape. Only a little behind with these weeks of being pampered like a kitten.”

The comment had him baring his teeth at her in a feral smile. “Afraid your claws are getting dull?”

“If I’m weak, then I’ll be easy to break.”

“You’re already weak, because you’re mortal. And as for breaking you… it will be an enjoyable experience.”

Against all better judgment, she threw the staff at him, the piece winging through the air only to land at his feet rather than hitting home. “If you’re such a boastful brat, then show me rather than running your mouth.”

No one needed a smack across the face more than Roran. The smug prick always managed to dig under her skin. Their time in the safe room felt like another lifetime, the small glimpse of a different person he’d shown her nothing but a dream.

“There is something about you, Aven, like hot breath on the back of my neck. It’s annoying.” He bent to grab the staff and approached her, veering at the last minute to address the wall of weapons. He selected first a piece for her and threw it over his shoulder, forcing her to scramble to retrieve it before it smacked her. Finally, Roran grabbed a staff for himself before he turned, his face a frozen mask. “You want to work? To learn? Then I’ll be the brutal taskmaster to break you today,” he finished.

She wasn’t sure how she felt about the imagery he’d painted before or what it meant. Only knew she refused to crumple at his feet.

“You are welcome to try. If you feel comfortable taunting me, then you should feel comfortable in a spar. Although I’m happier to use my own hands against you. It will feel so much better when I wrap them around your neck,” she told him sweetly.

“I have a feeling you’re used to throwing your opponents off their game with your back talk. You’ll find I’m not easy to manipulate like your little mortal men. But if you want to mouth off, then by all means. I’m up to the challenge.”

They threw both staffs away at the same time as they circled one another.

Being around Roran felt suffocating. Every breath she took was hard won as they circled each other, both of them waiting for the other to make the first move. Her back talk had served her well. Sometimes it was the only weapon she had left, and she’d learned to use every small thing to her advantage.

Weapons, spells, runes, and words. They had their place.

She finally grew tired of waiting for Roran to strike and feinted to the left. He barely acknowledged the move, his stillness and grace something that angered her rather than something she wanted to emulate.

When he failed to move with her, Aven ducked low and swept her leg out, hoping to land a hit against his ankle. Roran leaped into the air to avoid her and brought both fists down with him, slamming them between her shoulder blades.

He knocked the air right out of her lungs and sent her flying onto her stomach, her cheek flat against the mat.

“This is what happens when you let temper ride you.”

“I suppose you have a much better idea about riding me?” she managed to gasp out.

“Look who’s making the inappropriate jokes now.” Roran snickered. “Are you finally ready to admit how badly you want to feel my weight between your thighs, little princess?”

She pushed off of the mat and lunged for him again. Her arms came around his midsection, the top of her head slamming into his hard stomach. Roran continued to laugh as he grabbed at her, swinging her around and breaking her hold easily. He swung her to the side, and she landed feet away, too late to catch herself.

“Looks like I’ve struck a nerve with you. You’re sensitive about your fighting style but even more so about intimacy.”

Roran’s voice sounded through a ringing in her ears. “Stop it.”

His chuckle grew at her low moan, but Aven pushed herself to her feet, however unsteadily.

“Stop what? It’s my observation. You’ve spent most of your time fighting, but your weapons and spells have become a crutch. Rather than working on your strength, you focus too much on what an external source can offer you. Too comfortable around the men you lead as well. None of them have ever taken you to bed, have they?”

“You’re awfully interested in my bedroom affairs.”

“It might be the only interesting thing about you.”

She charged him with a yell, her temper getting the better of her. This time, Roran met her punches, his hands out in front of him to absorb every hit.

Her fist slammed against his palm, and she struck out with her knee, as quickly as a snake. Her knee made contact with his hip, but Roran maintained his balance. She punched him again and again, only succeeding in ripping her insides to shreds in the process.

She hit him until she exhausted herself, refusing to look up at his smug face because she already knew what she would see. His comments hit home a little too closely for comfort.

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