Page 7 of Savagely Mated

King’s guards are trained to kill. I’ve never actually killed anybody before, but I’ve always known it was only a matter of time before I did. Because of how I entered the academy, I have been trained to fight since I was old enough to hold a sword. Most recruits don’t start until their teens, but most recruits don’t have the fortune of dead parents.

I glance at my watch. I’ve got some time before I have to take a life for the first time, so that’s good.

“Alright. It’s sharp.”

I reach for the sword, but Jory holds it out of my reach, his muscles gleaming in a sweaty blacksmith sort of way.

“What are you doing?”

“Promise me you’re not going to actually go to that duel,” he says. “Go back to the academy. You’ve made enough trouble for one day.”

“I promise,” I lie.

“You’re such a bad liar.” He calls me out right away, but he gives me the sword. “I want you alive, Darcy.”

“Nothing bad is going to happen to me,” I promise him. “I’m careful.”

“No. You’re not. Seriously. Don’t go fight that guy. He’s the best swordsman in the city. They say he’s a…” he lowers his voice, “terrorist.”

Jory has always been exposed to people I’m not because he handles a lot of weapons and the sort of people who need weapons are the sort of people who use them. But that guy I just met looks more like a model than a violent criminal. Besides, he was kind of sassy about it. If he was really a piece of shit, he could have just punched me in the face. He didn’t. So it’s probably fine.

“Okay. Thanks, Jory. See you next time.”

“No payment then? No. Of course not,” he smirks. “Get out of here.”

I go, heading into the back alleys. I’m a little concerned by Jory’s warnings, but then I remember that he has always been the sort to freak out about stuff when he doesn’t really have to.

Besides, he hasn’t seen me running drills lately. I’m not being arrogant when I say I am one of the best in the academy. I’ve literally trained my whole life with a sword. I’ll be fine, and two big, arrogant older men are going to learn not to bully what they think are smaller, younger guys.

I decide to get something to eat. I’ll need my strength for kicking ass later. Sushi is always a good choice, so I head through the streets toward my favorite place. Eclipse is buzzing, like always. I dart through the crowd, moving at a pretty decent pace.

There’s a line for sushi, of course, and this time I don’t know the person selling it, so I content myself with the notion I’m going to have to wait.

I notice that there’s a guy nearby, waiting for something or someone. He’s just casually holding up a wall, leaning against it in a way that makes him look hot.

Okay. I’ve got to be ovulating. Super ovulating.

I’m used to guys. The academy is absolutely full of them. They’re everywhere. Until very recently, like, today, I was starting to think I was pretty much immune to them. Couldn’t muster interest in them no matter how attractive they were. Now I’ve met two hot men today—maybe I’m just into older guys? And this guy? This guy makes me feel the most different of all.

He’s younger than the other two I’ve run into, maybe a few years older than me. He has thick, blond hair to his shoulders—do I just like muscular men with long hair? That could be it. Don’t see any of that in the academy. His features are hawkish, sharp, and refined. He’s dressed in fine clothes, so expensively cut I am pretty sure he’s a prince of some kind. He just has that regal kind of look to him. Every bit of fabric on his body is tailored to those powerful long lines.

He catches me looking at him and flickers a wink at me. I try not to smile back, but fail as a hot flush rushes through me.

I go over there, though I know I shouldn’t. Something about this guy tells me that he is trouble. Good guys don’t wear devilish smirks like the one that spreads over his face as he realizes I’m coming to talk to him.

“Are you Yoki?”

Shit. The way my heart plummets when I realize he’s only smiling at me because he thinks I’m someone he’s waiting for is bad. I keep forgetting I’m dressed like a guy basically. I’m definitely not presenting myself like one of the many hot city girls milling around this area. I’m jealous of the way they don’t have to worry about displaying their bodies. There are high heels, short skirts, and crop tops everywhere right now. What the hell was I thinking, imagining even for a second he’d be into me.

“Yes,” I answer. I don’t know why I lie, I just know that I want to say yes to this man in general. He’s tall and magnetic, and even with my neck craned to make eye contact with him, looking at him is incredibly rewarding.

A knife flashes under my eyes. “What’s the password, Yoki?”

Holy shit. The hot pretty boy just pulled a knife on me.

“I’m hoping that you’re joking,” I stammer, taking a step back. Not because of the knife, but because of the intensity of his expression and tone. This is a guy who wants to do damage. He looks like an angel, but he’s got the heart of a devil.

“You’re not who I’m waiting for,” he says flatly.

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