Page 39 of Dragon Unleashed

The wooden stick I was fighting clobbers me on the back of my head, wiping the smile from my face. I swivel quickly to parry, trying to keep the pair in my sight.

“Underhand, old man,” Chano says, struggling to get up.

I lunge at the stick, finally knocking it to the ground and stepping neatly on the wooden tip before it can rise again.

Silas has Chano pinned. The corner of my mouth twitches and I can feel the laughter building. I snort, trying to push it down, but a giant belly laugh escapes. Leaning over, hands on my knees, I cackle until the tears run down my face. By the time I’ve finally caught my breath they’re both staring at me.

Silas reaches down and offers Chano a hand. He takes it, far more graciously accepting his defeat than I did on my first day. Chano observes me, before turning to Silas.

“I don’t know why you have her back, old man. But for that alone I respect you.” He runs a hand over his buzz cut. “And for the ass-kicking too.”

Silas gives him a small nod. “You’ll spar together now, while I lecture you on military strategy. I expect you to recite it back to me at training next week. Both of you.”

Chapter Eighteen: Farrell

Getting back to the academy is sweet relief. My father won’t physically attack me again, he can’t take losing, but the churning in my gut won’t settle. He’ll punish me another way. He’s a cold-blooded psycho, with a winning smile and a shining political career.

I rub the stubble irritating my face. I don’t even have time to shave if I’m going to make class. The asshole didn’t dismiss me until Monday morning. Now I need to get through the whole damn day not only sore from our fight but also looking like a bristly gorilla.

When Lorelei prances into class with her arms wrapped around the meathead, it takes everything in me not to shake her. I can’t protect her forever. The more she makes a show of Chano being her Aeternum, the quicker Father will decide.

I lean over to pick up my bag, cringing as the wounds on my back pull apart. I let him beat on me too long. These will take days to heal.

Ignoring Zephyr’s worried looks, I stuff my books away. He knows what my visits with Father entail. Although I’ve kept himshielded from the worst of it, he’s seen my bruises often enough to know the deal. Thank the goddesses I’m a shifter. I’d be screwed if I couldn’t heal quickly.

I glance at my tablet in annoyance before packing it away. Silas demanding training at the lake tonight is really not going to help.

“In the water, quick smart. Five laps around the lake should loosen you up. You look like a granny with rheumatoid. Where’s the soldier I trained?” Silas snaps.

I strip quickly in the tree line, leaving my boxers on. Students mill around in the distance and a small group of girls meanders toward us. In a couple of quick strides, I’m at the water’s edge and diving in, submersing myself, hiding my marred skin.

Silas stands on the edge, stopwatch out, timing me. Every time I pass him, he scowls and taps at the thing. Asshole. I can’t swim quicker without ripping my skin open again, without making it obvious I’m injured. But the old bastard is right about one thing: the movement is at least loosening me up. A hot steamy shower after this and I should be well on the way to recovery.

“Call it for today,” Silas shouts, waving me in as I make the fifth lap a leisurely backcrawl.

I eye the number of students milling around.

“Water’s nice, coach. Might stay in for a bit.”

He regards me for a long moment before moving off toward a flat patch of grass near the boathouse. Hellfire. I tread water, watching him start one of his katas. He’s not going anywhere quickly. I glance toward my clothes, the snickering girls fooling around, and back to him. I should be able to get out and keep my back to them all.

“Dare you!” someone shrieks before the little group bursts into high-pitched laughter and starts to scatter.

Camille, all legs and big eyes, stares me down as she makes a beeline for my clothes. With a triumphant crow she scoops them up and bolts up the path.

Anger roils in my gut. I don’t have time for her games. With a roar I explode out of the water. I feel rather than see Silas slipping in behind me, his quiet steps muffled by my bare feet slapping wetly on the path.

“Drop those, now,” I say with a snarl.

“Oh baby, I just couldn’t resist seeing you all naked again,” Camille trills, only starting to look nervous as I continue to advance on her. “Don’t you miss us? I miss us.”

“Give me back my clothes, Camille. We were engaged, but it would have been a marriage of convenience. Well, now Lorelei is more convenient. Drop. The. Clothes.”

As I loom over her she wilts and hands over my slightly crumpled shirt and trousers. I reach out, then yank the shirt on.

Camille gasps and steps closer. “Farrell. Wh-who did that to you?”

My hands shake slightly as I do the buttons up, but I hold her gaze steadily. “Got in a little fight, Cami. Training’s only getting tougher these days.” I wink. “You should see the other guy.”

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