Page 17 of Unbound

The pounding of my heart forms a desperate rhythm of fear. Blood roars in my ears until it's almost deafening.

It's only me and the giant, scarred volunteer with yellow-orange eyes.

Each step toward the raised platform sends jolts of nervous energy up my spine, skin prickling with gooseflesh beneath the weight of so many watching eyes. Some students are already sparring on other platforms, the dull sounds of impact punctuated by grunts and occasional cries of pain. Most, though, have stopped what they’re doing to look our way.

Raith stands waiting at the edge of the mat, power radiating from him in almost visible waves. His expression remains carefully guarded, his gaze a wall I can’t possibly see past.

Everything else fades to background noise as I desperately try to form a plan—try to figure out how I'm supposed to fight this mountain of man, muscle, and deadly intent standing across from me. My mind whirls through options, each more unlikely than the last.

The legacies have drifted closer, their silver and gold uniforms gleaming. Bastian stands among them, his expression inscrutable. Both fire and water instructors watch us intently, arms crossed in mirrored poses of assessment.

Raith settles into a fighting stance with the fluid grace of someone who has done this thousands of times before. I mirror him as best I can, trying to recall everything I've learned in the brief crash course on fighting we've all been given.

I quickly conclude that I'm royally fucked.

"Why me?" I demand as we begin to circle each other around the ring, my voice lower than I'd intended, betraying my nerves.

I expect some sort of asshole comment in response—something cutting and dismissive that confirms my expendability in his eyes. Instead, his gaze slides briefly to Serena, who is already fighting two rings over. She's on top of a muscular boy with a fire mark, relentlessly pounding her fists into his face as blood sprays across the stone in crimson arcs.

I swallow hard, my throat clicking with sudden dryness. "You challenged me so she wouldn't?" I guess, keeping my voice low enough that our audience can't hear. Maybe there's some twisted chivalry at work here—choosing to defeat me himself rather than letting Serena torture me.

"No," Raith says flatly, eyes snapping back to mine with predatory focus. "Shut up and fight, Saltcrest."

Saltcrest? How the hell does he know where I’m?—

He catches me mid-thought, lunging forward and straight through my guard with a speed that seems impossible for someone his size.

His first strike comes fast—a testing jab that I barely manage to deflect, the impact vibrating up my forearm and sending shockwaves of pain to my shoulder. His second follows immediately, catching me in the ribs and sending me staggering back. The pain explodes like a bomb beneath my skin, air rushing from my lungs in a harsh gasp that echoes in the sudden silence around us.

Stars dance at the edges of my vision as I struggle to breathe through lungs that feel crushed. I force myself upright through sheer stubbornness, ignoring the spreading fire across my ribcage.

"That the best you can do?" I rasp, trying to sound confident rather than breathless and half-broken after just two punches.

A shadow of a smile plays across his lips, there and gone in an instant. That brief glimpse of amusement shouldn't make my stomach flutter, but it does—a treacherous warmth spreading beneath the pain of his strike.

He moves in again, this time with a combination I can't possibly counter. I take a hit to the shoulder that nearly spins me around, duck under another that would have connected with my jaw, but his leg sweeps mine and suddenly I'm falling, weightless for one terrifying moment before impact.

I brace for the hard slam of stone against bone, but he's there—grappling my body while somehow softening my fall. His body burns against mine, unnaturally warm in a way that can't be explained by physical exertion alone. Up close, his eyes reveal streaks of pure red and gold threading through amber, like cracks in the earth revealing bright yellow magma beneath.

Something stirs where we touch. A jolt of energy that feels the same as when I touched Bastian—almost as if something is being pulled from his body into mine. A current that flows between us, invisible but unmistakable.

He shifts, hooks a leg behind mine, pressing his hips against me with deliberate force. Hard.

The weight of him steals what little breath I've managed to recover. His body is solid heat and coiled strength, and for one disorienting second, I feel certain he's holding back.

A lot.

I groan, trying to fight free of him, twisting beneath his weight in a desperate bid for leverage that never comes. It's useless. He has me pinned completely, his larger body caging mine against the mat.

Raith turns his head, breath hot against my ear as a shiver races down my spine. "I could break you in half right now," he murmurs, voice dropping to a rough timbre that vibrates through my bones. "You need to do better. Much better."

As he grapples me, I still feel that strange draining sensation, stronger now with more points of contact between us. It's almost as if I'm pulling pure fire from his body, watching it flow through invisible channels and gather inside myself like water into a reservoir. Heat builds beneath my skin, seeking release.

"That's enough," Bastian's voice cuts through the haze of pain and confusion. "He clearly has her."

"I'm not done, legacy," Raith growls—actually growls—before he flips me to my back with sickening ease, his body pressed tight against mine as he secures an arm around my neck. The pressure is tight enough to be threatening, but I can still breathe—just barely. The message is clear: he could end this in seconds if he wanted to.

The fucking bastard is toying with me.

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