Page 17 of Twisted Fangs

Frustration boils over within me, a tempest of anger and exhaustion. I stop, my hands on my hips, and glare at him. "Why are you pushing me so hard? I'm not like you, Valen. I can't just shrug off fatigue and pain," I argue.

He strides toward me, his movements fluid and predatory. "No, you're not like me. Not yet. But you will be. You must be if we're to have any chance of surviving, let alone winning this war," he replies firmly.

I clench my fists, the scar on my wrist aching with the memory of my past. "And what if I can't? What if I'm just not strong enough?" I ask.

Valen's gazesoftens for a fleeting moment, a rare crack in his impenetrable armor. "You are stronger than you give yourself credit for, Rhea. You've already proven that to me. But true strength isn't just about the body. It's about the mind, the heart. You must want this—want it more than breath, more than life itself," he says emphatically.

My breath hitches in my throat as I meet his gaze. "I do want it. I want it so badly it scares me," I admit.

"Good," he says. "Let that fear fuel you."

I nod, determination setting in my jaw.

We spar deep into the night, the sounds of our clashing weapons a fierce symphony. I strike with all the fury I possess,but Valen is always one step ahead, his movements a blur of supernatural speed and precision.

In a moment of desperation, I lunge at him, my dagger aimed at his heart. But he's a ghost, insubstantial and untouchable. Before I can react, he's behind me, his arm wrapping around my waist in a vice-like grip that pins my arms to my sides.

I struggle against his hold, but it's futile. "Let me go!" I demand, my voice laced with frustration.

Valen's breath is hot against my ear as he murmurs, "Never."

The word sends a shiver down my spine, and for a moment, I stop struggling. His embrace is both a prison and a sanctuary, a reminder of the complex bond we've forged.

"This is not defeat, Rhea," he says softly. "It's a lesson. You must be aware of every possible angle of attack—and every potential vulnerability. Including your own."

I relax into his hold, my body leaning into the solid wall of his chest. "And what if my greatest vulnerability is standing right behind me?" she asks softly.

He releases me abruptly,and I turn to face him, my heart pounding in my chest. His gaze flickers to my lips, then back to my eyes, the silence between us charged with unspoken desires and bitter truths.

"Then we are both in danger," he admits, his voice a low rumble that resonates through me.

I take a step back, putting much-needed distance between us. "I don't want to be a distraction, Valen. Not to you, and not to myself," I say.

He reaches out to me, his fingers brushing against my cheek in a gesture that's almost tender. "You could never be just a distraction, Rhea. You are the heart of this rebellion—the fierce,indomitable spirit that refuses to be extinguished. And I... I will do everything in my power to protect you," he insists.

With those words hanging in the air, we return to our training, the significance of our shared destiny pressing down upon us like the heavy canopy of the forest. The path ahead is sure to be fraught with peril, but together, I believe we are a force to be reckoned with.

13

VALEN

Rhea's eyes flash with defiance, her small frame practically vibrating with the need to prove herself. "Come on, Valen," she taunts, her voice a lash in the quiet clearing. "I'm not made of glass. Show me what you've got."

I clench my jaw, a flicker of irritation mingling with the reluctant admiration for her spirit. "This is not a game, Rhea," I warn, my voice low and steady. "You can't handle me."

She steps forward, her practice sword glinting in the dappled sunlight. "Oh, yes I can," she retorts, her hazel eyes locked onto mine.

I sigh, knowing that look in her eyes—it's the same one that's stared back at me from the reflection of still water for centuries. It's the look of someone with nothing to lose and everything to fight for. With a nod, I draw my own blade, the weight of it familiar and comforting in my hand.

We circle each other, the air humming with tension. Rhea lunges first, her movements swift but predictable. I sidestep her attack easily, my body reacting on instinct honed by countless battles.

She growls in frustration, her grip tightening on her weapon. We clash again, the sound of steel on steel ringing out. Our bodies brush against each other, a fleeting contact that sends a jolt of heat coursing through me. I grit my teeth, forcing myself to focus on the fight, not the intoxicating scent of her.

Rhea's persistence is both infuriating and arousing. Each time she comes at me, I find myself having to hold back, to resist the urge to overpower her completely. I can't afford to hurt her, not when she's finally becoming the weapon we need against our common enemy.

"You're holding back," she accuses, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

"I don't wantto hurt you," I admit, my voice gruff.

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