Page 4 of Artemysia
“If you disarm me, I’ll refrain from kicking your ass, dagger ornot,” I say, grinning.
“That’s so sweet.” His soft mouth turns down his tapered chin.
Bristling, I huff an exasperated sigh. All my life, I’ve been told I look sweet and kind, and the terrible truth is, Iam. It used to work against me as I moved up the ranks, commanding the rough-and-tumble men and women who were physically bigger than me, but now I’ve turned it into an element of surprise.
Iletthem underestimate me.
I flick two fingers in his direction, gesturing for him to come at me.
He gives a low, scraping chuckle. He moves unnaturally fast, but I sidestep in time, light on my feet. I block his forearm, knocking it aside as I duck and spin on my heels. My elbow jabs into his liver and, on the upswing, I knuckle him in the throat. He scowls but recovers—and now he’s serious. He lunges at me. I throw my arms around him and use his momentum to swing him around. Our legs tangle. The next few minutes consist of grappling, limbs locked, as we try to take each other down.
Crouching low, I drive my shoulder into him. My face is buried in his chest as he locks his arms around me to stop me from wrestling him to the ground.
Swallowed up in his grip, our bodies heat.
I shouldn’t notice how good he smells. Woodsy clean, like the juniper trees bordering the mountains to the south.
He twists and kicks me off, striking me in the ribs where the Syf bruised me earlier today.
I cry out as I fall back, and for a split second, he hesitates, his eyes rounding.
Now he knows I’m injured. I’ve revealed my weakness, but I roll off the ground and back on my feet.
Taking advantage of his surprise, I hit him with a combination of a roundhouse kick and an elbow to the jaw. He doubles over, paying for his hesitation. I wrangle him into a headlock, my dagger at his throat.
“Once my dagger is out, it wants blood,” I say smugly.
He struggles to regain control, but I maintain my chokehold.
“One more move and I’ll cut off your topknot,” I warn. Lose strands of his hair fall over my hand, and it’s as soft as it is glossy.
He lifts his palms in the air, and he’s given up.
“I do need a haircut,” he mutters.
Despite myself, I laugh under my breath and back away. He presses a finger to his mouth where my fist landed, frowns, and licks the blood off his lips.
“Something to remember me by.” I grin.
My breaths come easily now. There was no way he could’ve known I needed this—that I had nervous energy to burn off—yet here he was, willing to engage.
The adrenaline of the fight and the subsequent win have calmed me.
I’m doing what I’m good at, and I’ve forgotten why I was lurking in an alley at midnight instead of celebrating what I’ve wanted to achieve since I joined the Academy ten years ago—to be captain of the squad I love. I’m ready for whatever comes next.
Except…I relaxed too soon.
A strange light glows in those smoky irises, perhaps just a glint reflected off the gas lamps at the end of the alleyway, but a flick of his wrist later, he’s thrown my dagger against the side of the building. It clangs onto the stony ground. My feet pivot to rebalance, but he’s pinned my forearm against the wall, and when I swing my free hand to jab him under the ribs, he strikes it away with uncanny swiftness.
Holy hell.His reflexes are inhuman. Has he been playing me this whole time, pretending to let me have the upper hand? He pitches forward and seizes my throat. As my air is cut off, his eyes darken and his lips curl up into an indecent, cruel grin.
I’m left wondering if I’ve made a terrible mistake engaging this stranger.
“Only fools are fearless.” - Riev
He barely flinches when I jerk my knee to his gut, but a swift kick knocks my leg aside, pinning his thigh to mine.
“Watch yourself.” A snarl rips from him. “Why would you let your guard down?”
