Page 105 of The Prince's Captive

“Yielding.” Marcella blinked up at him. Her heart was racing faster than she’d ever felt it before. “You win.”

Gavril narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t even cast.”

“I’m tired of fighting.”

“Fighting is not tired of you.”

“I do not want to fightyou.” Marcella felt her curls tickling her jaw where her head rested on them, but she didn’t dare move. “What do you want?”

Gavril’s head shifted lower; his eyes closed as his hair fell into his eyes. His forehead brushed hers, and her breath hitched in the back of her throat when she felt his skim across her cheek. He whispered, “I want—Iwant—”

His thumb brushed her left hand, slowly inching and bringing his palm over hers. The heat of his skin pressed against hers was scorching. “You.”

He then took a short breath, pulling his head back and opening his eyes as he started his abandoned sentence over again. “You do not want to fight me. Too bad. You will not be fighting anyone else. So you are going to get up. You are going to cast. You want me to suffer. You only want to know what I want in order to defy me. It will not work. Fight me. Believe me, I will suffer regardless. One of us will get our desire, and it will never be me.”

Before she could reply, Gavril was pushing himself up. But he hadn’t relinquished his hold on her left hand, pulling her up with him. He turned her with his grip as he did so, spinning her to face her side of the rectangle as he let go of her hand and stalked back to his. He threw over his shoulder, “Are you a mage, soldier, or aren’t you? Did your clan send out a weak little Solitus girl to defy us?”

Marcella clenched her jaw. He was just trying to goad her. She wasn’t going to fall for it. He was very good at it though.

When she looked back, Gavril was glaring at her. His eyes darted to the group of Inimicus watching them. He snapped again, “Soldier. Fight.”

“If I don’t?” Marcella glanced at the Inimicus, all of them looking at her and not Gavril.

A few of them were whispering to each other.

The word ‘table’ sent a chill down her spine.

Gavril ran a hand down his right arm, sinking his nails in so hard she couldn’t believe he didn’t break skin. He ripped that hand away and reached up, running it through his hair. And she could see something in his eyes she hadn’t before.

He was terrified.

He was in agony.

Why wasn’t she happy?

“Fight, Marcella.”

He didn’t have to say what would happen if she didn’t. She understood.

“I want you to fight.”

She lifted her hands and her vitae responded to her call. “As you order.”

She prayed for an iron heart and to feel the satisfaction she was supposed to now that she knew Gavril was as terrified and miserable and was suffering just as much as she was.

But… No. Now that Hypatia had opened Marcella’s eyes to desires she’d never imagined, she could not just be content in his misery.

That had to be it.

She would only be happy with his misery when she had her freedom and him at her mercy.

Her fingers flew through the air and she cast. Her vitae lit the air as her rune took shape, taking her only a second to form before a bolt of vitae flew through the air toward Gavril.

He quickly threw up a shield that shattered on impact. Marcella cast again. She took a step forward this time. Gavril’s fingers were flying, but whatever rune he was trying to cast took him too long. She let loose a burst of blinding light. Gavril’s hands jerked back as he tried to shield his eyes, and she darted forward a few steps.

The less distance she had to send her runes over, the more vitae she saved.

She had already cast her next by the time Gavril lowered his hands. The vitae bolt hit his right knee, causing it to immediately buckle and he dropped to the other. She rushed forward as he blinked his eyes open, his fingers starting to move. She grabbed his left hand, lacing her fingers through his and holding his hand up as high as possible as she held her other hand in front of his throat, a rune half formed.

---