Page 20 of The Kings
“Eliza, left!” he barks, and I spin just in time to dodge a vicious strike. Our enemies are relentless, but they don’t know who they’re dealing with.
Clearly.
But then my confidence gets the better of me and as I see an opening to get to David, standing on the sidelines, watching this with a smug grin, I dive for him, not even seeing the guy moving as quickly as me. He sends his fist flying into my face; I grunt, staggering back, licking blood from my lip.
“You cock. You’re gonna pay for that,” I growl, lunging towards him. He is huge. Bigger than Tarquin and a giant compared to me. He isn’t a student. He is older, wiser, more hardened—a professional.
Grenville isn’t playing fair, and that just shows him for the cowardly asshole that he is.
The giant takes another swing at me, this time knocking me flying into Tarquin, who grabs me and steadies me with one arm while the other sends a fist flying towards someone’s face.
“What now?” he asks with a sexy smirk that fires up my engines. He’s taken a few hits. His tee is torn, and his lip is split like mine.
“In your dreams,” I snarl and disentangle myself as I grip Flick and duck past the giant to get to David. My litheness is a weapon, and David’s face goes pale as he sees me coming for him.
“Fuck you, David. You’re a cowardly piece of shit; you know that? Come at me yourself.”
“Still got that mouth, Eliza,” he sneers, getting his shit together and knowing he has no choice but to face me. He moves forward as Tarquin crosses to have my back against the giant.
David and I collide, his strength against my speed, and it’s a deadlock for a moment. The pain explodes in my side as I take a hit, but it only angers me more, like a wasp being poked at. I twist away, and with a swift, precise motion, Flick finds her target—not a killing blow, but one that sends a clear message as she slices into David’s flesh.
He stumbles back, his hand clamping over the wound, blood darkening his shirt. His eyes lock onto mine, filled with hatred.
“Is that all you’ve got?” My voice is a low, dangerous thing. The room reeks of sweat, blood, and steel, but I can’t afford to let disgust slow me down. Not when victory is within reach, not when survival hangs on the edge of my blade.
“Time to go,” I hiss to Tarquin, who is currently in a precarious situation with the giant, who has him in a chokehold.
“A… little… help… here…” he croaks.
Chuckling as I grip Flick and turn my hand to drive the blade directly into the giant’s side, I pull her out as he grunts and loosens his hold on Tarquin enough that he can get free.
“Asshole,” he grunts and takes a swing with his hard fist, smashing the giant’s nose flat against his face. “No one tries to kill me and gets away with it.”
“Come on,” I urge, trying not to laugh at the giant’s shocked face.
Ducking and slashing, we make our way back to the tower door and take the steep, circular steps as quickly as we dare for fear of falling and breaking our necks.
We bolt from the chaos of the North Castle tower, the night swallowing us when we burst through the door at the bottom.
My chest burns as we sprint, each breath sharp against my ribs. I can feel the sticky warmth of blood on my side from ashallow nick, but it’s a badge of honour and a reminder of the close call.
“Here,” I pant, spotting an overgrown courtyard tucked behind a row of hedges—perfect for a quick breather. We don’t hesitate, ducking into the seclusion it offers.
Peering out through the bushes, we don’t see or hear anyone following us, so we slump down on the ground, fucked but not out.
“Let me see,” Tarquin says, his tone more command than concern. He’s at my side in an instant, his fingers deft as they assess the wound on my side.
“Tis but a scratch,” I murmur, but let him look because his hands are sending my battle lust into a heightened arousal that makes my clit twitch.
“Seen worse,” he murmurs.
“Exactly.”
As Tarquin and I regroup in the shadows, my pulse hammers with the aftermath of bloodshed. Our breathing is heavy, matched only by the rapid beat of our hearts. The fight still echoes in my muscles, and I stretch.
“Eliza,” Tarquin whispers, his voice like gravel, and there’s a wildness in his eyes that sends rockets of lust shooting through me.
We’re close, so fucking close, the heat from his body searing through the space between us. The night clings to us, the darkness a cloak over our actions.
