Page 58 of Faeheart
“Which means we need to be ready for them,” Atlas said, his tactical mind already working through defensive positions. “We have a couple of days, if not mere hours, to prepare for this battle.”
“So, where do we start?” Elias asked.
“The training room,” Atlas nodded. “All of us. As much as we can.”
“Well,” I sighed, gesturing back into the house. “Lead the way, big guy.”
Chapter 22
Elias
“God damn I’m sore…” Wild grumbled as we practically crawled into the bedroom that night.
Atlas had put us through the wringer all afternoon with his training routine. I’d never done sports in school, but now I knew that I was definitelynotcut out for it. I thought we’d just be practicing magic, but Atlas had us doing calisthenics, jogging, and a bunch of other stuff I’d never heard of. Either way, I felt like every limb I had was about to turn into jelly and fall off.
“I told you Atlas was serious about physical conditioning,” I replied, stretching my arms above my head and wincing at the pull in my shoulders. Through our soul bond, I could feel Wild’s exhaustion mirroring my own, along with a dull ache that seemed to radiate from every muscle in his body.
“Physical conditioning for what?” Wild groaned, flopping face-first onto the bed without bothering to undress. “We’re witches and fae, not Olympic athletes. Our magic does the heavy lifting.”
“Not when you’re magically depleted,” I said, repeating what Atlas had drilled into us during training. “If we exhaust our magical reserves in battle, we need to be able to fight physically. Or at least run away effectively.”
Wild turned his head to glare at me from his position sprawled across the coverlet. “I hate it when you’re logical.”
Despite my own exhaustion, I couldn’t help but smile at his petulant expression. Even covered in sweat and radiating soreness through our bond, he was still beautiful. The way the lamplight caught the copper highlights in his hair, the graceful line of his neck where it disappeared into his training shirt...
“Stop looking at me like that,” Wild mumbled, though I felt a flutter of arousal through our connection despite his fatigue. “I can barely move, let alone do anything about the thoughts you’re broadcasting.”
Heat flooded my cheeks as I realized my appreciation was bleeding through our soul bond. “Sorry. I can’t seem to control what gets through.”
“Don’t apologize,” Wild said, rolling onto his back with a soft groan. “I like knowing what you’re thinking. Even if my body feels like it’s been trampled by a herd of centaurs.”
I moved to sit on the edge of the bed, my hand finding his ankle and beginning to massage the tense muscles there. Wild’s eyes fluttered closed, a sound of pleasure escaping his lips that went straight to my groin despite my own exhaustion.
“Better?” I asked, working my thumbs along his calf.
“Mmm,” he hummed, his magic unconsciously reaching for mine through our bond. “Much better. Though I think I’m going to need a lot more of that.”
Through our connection, I could feel exactly where his muscles were knotted, where the tension was worst. My magic responded instinctively, weaving gentle healing energy through my touch to ease his discomfort.
“Atlas wasn’t kidding about tomorrow being worse,” I said, continuing my massage as Wild melted beneath my hands. “He wants to start weapons training in the morning.”
“Weapons?” Wild’s eyes snapped open. “What kind of weapons?”
“Basic combat magic channeling, some defensive sword work, and something about a battleax.” I moved my attention to his other leg, feeling his muscles relax under my ministrations. “He said a lot of stuff.”
“Sword and battleax training?” Wild scoffed. “Can’t we just get a gun or something? We’re not living in medieval times.”
“Guns don’t work well with magic,” I explained, my fingers working their way up to his thigh. “The gunpowder reacts unpredictably to magical energy. That’s why most paranormal combat still uses traditional weapons.”
Wild let out another groan, this one more dramatic than pained. “Of course it does. Why make things easy when we can swing around giant metal sticks instead?”
I couldn’t help but laugh at his indignation. “I think it’s more about focus. The weapons channel our magic, amplify it.”
“I know,” Wild sighed, reaching for my hand and pulling me up beside him on the bed. “I just hate that we have to prepare for this at all. A month ago, my biggest concern was whether I’d pass Blackwood’s class without actually reading the textbook.”
Through our bond, I felt the undercurrent of his fear beneath the complaint. Not just fear for himself, but for all of us. For what we might have to do when the Purity Front arrived. The chaotic and carefree Wild I’d met that first day of class was long gone. This Wild was trying his damnedest to keep us all alive, and I could feel the stress eating him from the inside out.
“Come here,” I murmured, pulling him against my chest despite our sweaty clothes and aching muscles. “We’re going to be okay.”
