Page 45 of Kissed By the Gods
“Archon Lyathin, the girl has brought an unsanctioned weapon into the arena,” he calls louder.
I grit my teeth. I swear to Thayana, I could rip his innards out just for the way he saysgirl.
“Hold.” Lyathin strides down the steps, his expression impassive. He places his hand on my weapon and closes his eyes. When they reopen, confusion ripples through them.
“It is her bonded scythe,” he announces. “You were able to recast it quickly.”
I turn to Maxim with a condescending smile. “Of course, I understand if you’re intimidated and would like to choose a weapon.” My smile widens. “No one would think less of you. It is only fair, after all, that we’re equal.”
He reacts exactly how I expect him to—his pride snaps back into place and his lips curl in a sneer. “I could defeat you with my hands tied behind my back, girl. I need no weapon.”
He clenches and unclenches his empty hands as Archon Lyathin leaves the arena to retake his seat.
A hush falls and the spectators become deathly still. Finally, the gong sounds to start the fight.
Maxim immediately lunges for me, going for my scythe, but I easily dance out of his way and his forward momentum sends him several feet past where I was last standing.
Damn he’s fast, the speed of the Altor undiminished despite his hulking size.
But I was right. I’m faster.
We spend the next couple of minutes like that, with Maxim lunging for me, and me evading his efforts. He gets close a couple of times, but even after a couple minutes, he’s winded.There’s so much more of him to move around, and I’m light as a feather.
His style is aggressive, like Nyrica’s. I imagine he could knock me out with one well-placed blow.
The next time he lunges, I drop to the ground and use my scythe to sweep his legs out from under him. He falls to the ground hard enough that a plume of dust rises from the arena floor.
The mood in the arena shifts, men sitting up higher in their seats, watching closely.
But he’s not down long at all, certainly not long enough for me to press the advantage. He screams, jumping back to his feet, and I scurry back. This time when he lunges for me, he fakes to the right, and I miscalculate. He doesn’t get my weapon, but he lands a blow that slams against my chest like an anvil. It throws my whole body backward. Before I can recover, his massive body crashes onto mine. That alone is enough to steal my breath, but his hands also immediately encircle my neck and he starts to squeeze. My scythe is trapped between us, useless.
Holy hells. The blood in my head roars, and I think my neck might snap as easily as a chicken’s.
Maxim smiles cruelly at me. “You don’t belong here with the men. With Altor. We’re heroes. We protect even the gods. And you? You’re an atrocity. You belong in one of Lako’s hells, like the abomination you are. Ryot is wrong. The archons are wrong.”
He leans closer to me and licks my neck, shifting so that his body is aligned over mine. His arousal presses through my trousers and my body reacts on its own, frantically digging into the dirt at my back to try to get away, to get his body off mine.Choking the life out of me is turning him on, and I want to vomit.
The pain from the goddess was less traumatic. Surely, he can’t rape me in the arena.
He raises his head from my neck slightly to look to my left and his smile grows. He loosens his grip enough for me to drag in one shallow breath before his hands clench again and he yanks my head to the side to look to the left with him. If I could breathe now, I would get nothing but a mouth full of sand. Maxim lays his face on top of mine.
“Look at him,” Maxim whispers.
My vision is blurring, but I squint and focus my eyes. Ryot’s curled his fingers over the wall that separates the stands from the arena floor, and he’s braced like he’s about to catapult over the side. Thalric’s hand grips one shoulder, Nyrica’s the other. They’re holding him back.
“After I’ve killed you, the guilt will eat him up. Ryot’s always had a misplaced sense of honor. He’s never understood the weak are meant to serve us. It’s why you exist.”
Maxim turns my head so that I’m forced to look at him again, and he eases his grip. I get another quick gasp of air, before he resumes the pressure against my windpipe.
“Ah, is there anything sweeter than the taste of fear on your tongue?” Maxim breathes against my face. He hums, like he’s enjoying a tasty feast. His tongue flicks out again.
Gods. What a horrible way to die.
I reach a hand toward Ryot, my fingers digging in the dirt as I stretch my fingers out, seeking … something. I want a connection to someone else before I die. I don’t want to be alone in the dirt with my fear and a monster. Something warm brushes over me, soft as breath and just as fleeting. It almost shimmers. Comfort, faint but real, wraps around me. Maxim’s sick presence retreats from my mind and I can gather my own thoughts again.
“Fucking Ryot,” Maxim growls in my ear.
Maxim again releases his hold on my throat so I can drag in another meager breath. He’s drawing this out, soaking up my fear and Ryot’s fury. He’s enjoying this. He’s getting off on strangling a woman in the dirt.
